stop me until I’ve reconnected with you. It’s smart and safe.”
Downstairs in the marina store Jaclyn, Mo’s store manager, told Wilson that their lobster boat was in the dock shop getting an overhaul. The only charter boat available was a sixty-foot sailing yacht, which would be too much for Emily to handle by herself. Wilson tried to stay calm as he asked if she knew of any other boats for rent. She gave him the names of two retired lobstermen who lived at the end of the cove but warned, “No guarantees this time of year.”
“Thanks, maybe I’ll give them a try,” Wilson said casually. No use drawing any undue attention, he thought.
“Wanna boat fur hire?” asked a large red-faced man as Wilson and Emily walked out of the store. “Couldn’t help overhearin’.”
“Yes,” Wilson said cautiously.
“Where you wanna go?”
“The lighthouses at Cape Elizabeth.”
“Name’s Paddie,” he said sticking out his hand, “I can take you.”
Shaking his hand, Wilson began slowly, “We sort of wanted to get out on our own. You know, just me and my wife.”
“Got experience?”
“She grew up on Martha’s Vineyard boating and sailing since she was five. I worked here as a lobsterman’s apprentice, and my family has an eighty footer and a twenty footer on Nantucket,” Wilson said, probably a little too anxiously.
The man squinted at Wilson and Emily, his eyes nearly lost in his weather-beaten face. “Costs more for goin’ alone.”
“How much?”
Once again, Paddie looked them up and down.
They both tried to appear as calm and casual as they could.
“$300 for half day.”
“Can we go right away?”
“Just gassed her up.”
“Great. My wife is going to meet me in the next cove. I have to pick up a few things.”
“I need some collateral.”
“Uh. Okay. What did you have in mind?”
“Car keys, driver’s license, somethin’ of value.”
Wilson pulled out his driver’s license and his father’s Mercedes keys. He gave them to Paddie with $360 in cash. “Tip’s included,” he said.
Paddie examined Wilson’s driver’s license and gave it back. “I’ll keep the keys. Meet you on the boat. She’s the yellow and green one at the end of the pier.”
Wilson and Emily kissed each other good-bye, with more than a little apprehension, before Wilson left for the Range Rover and Emily walked to the end of the pier.
As Emily was listening to Paddie’s instructions, Wilson was already speeding off the island in the bullet- marked Range Rover. Avoiding attention from the State Police was going to be a challenge.
Ten minutes later, Emily cruised north out of Mackerel Cove toward Boothbay Harbor, knowing she’d make it to the harbor well before Wilson. But she wasn’t happy that Wilson was taking all the risk, especially in a bullet- marked SUV in broad daylight. Little did she know what was in store for both of them.
59
Emily — Boothbay Harbor, ME
There was no sight of Wilson as Emily approached Boothbay Harbor, but it had been less than twenty minutes since she left Bailey Island. She dropped anchor off the eastern peninsula and began surveying the main pier six hundred yards away through a pair of binoculars she’d found on board.
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty minutes. Still no sign of Wilson. She pulled up anchor and started the engine. She had to do something. After docking at one of the longer piers away from the center of town, she put on a stocking cap, boots, and a full-length yellow slicker from the boat’s storage compartment. Thankfully, a light rain was falling from an overcast sky, allowing her to use the slicker’s large hood without drawing unwanted attention. She walked briskly up the pier into the community of Boothbay Harbor. For another ten minutes she scanned the quaint New England streets near the harbor, looking at every face she saw. Panic was starting to set in.
Finally, she spotted him standing with a group of twenty or so people in the store front offices of Montsweag’s Whale Watching and Sightseeing Excursions. Emily barely recognized him in the baseball cap and red plastic raincoat. She waited for him to see her, but he didn’t. Just as she began feeling conspicuous, he saw her. Their eyes locked for an instant. There was no mistaking Wilson’s nod of recognition.
Emily walked around the corner and down a narrow alleyway between two buildings toward the water, thinking there must be fishing boats for rent nearby. So much for their plan to avoid wasting time with boat rentals. Sure enough, there they were-three canopied catamarans and half a dozen twelve-foot outboards, all with the Montsweag’s name in blue and yellow letters. It was never too early in the season for fishing, thank God.
Emily hurried back up the alleyway and entered Montsweag’s through a side door. Wilson saw her. She turned to one of the clerks behind the counter and asked about the group of people. The woman informed her that they were about to embark on a whale-watching excursion and then asked if she cared to join them.
“Actually, I’m more interested in your twelve-footers,” Emily said, realizing that the best way to get out of there was to rent another boat and give Wilson the opportunity to leave the excursion group at the last minute. He obviously wouldn’t be acting the way he was, she thought, if he wasn’t afraid of being seen.
“The small fishing boats?” the attendant asked.
“Yeah. How much is the rental?”
“$75 an hour with bait and tackle, $200 a half day, $350 all day. $500 refundable deposit.”
“I’d like to rent one for all day.”
“Fill this out, please,” she said, handing Emily a clipboard with a renter’s agreement. “How will you be paying?”
“Cash,” Emily said, grateful for the $3,000 in one hundred dollar bills that Hap had placed in each of the escape bags. She hoped they weren’t marked.
“Fine, but I’ll need an imprint of your credit card for the deposit.”
Emily quickly filled out the necessary paperwork and read the accompanying instructions. She paid the clerk, who took an imprint of her American Express card for the refundable $500 deposit. Thankfully, Wilson had brought her purse from Venice. She watched closely to make sure the clerk didn’t process the credit card. They certainly didn’t need a transaction to show up on somebody’s computer screen. Noticing Emily’s watchful eye, the clerk reassured her that her card had not been charged and that she could tear up the imprint when she returned with the boat undamaged. “Take this to Sam on the pier,” she said handing Emily the key and a copy of the agreement, “He’ll help you.”
“Thank you,” Emily said, before timing her exit to coincide with the group of whale watchers leaving the office. Emily blended into the crowd, offering thanks for another small blessing. On the pier, she found Sam who led her to one of the twelve-footers. Sam pointed out a few things, and Emily got into the boat. At the last minute Wilson withdrew from the group and joined her in the small fishing boat. At first, Sam looked surprised at Wilson’s sudden arrival and was about to say something, until Emily smiled and gave him a thumbs up. Within seconds Emily and Wilson were crossing the bay through a cluster of anchored sailboats and schooners.
Wilson lay on the bottom of the boat telling Emily how two cars began following him outside Bath. “A dark blue Ford Taurus and a red Jeep Cherokee kept trading positions every mile or so. When I stopped at a gas station in Woolwich to put more air in the tires, the Cherokee stopped at a pottery barn across the road, and the Taurus kept going. After that, both vehicles kept their distance, but they continued following me. I stopped again in Wiscasset at an ATM, just to see what they’d do. Both cars passed me, but I saw them again when I turned onto
