'I don't see her,' Kesnick yelled.
'Give her a tug.'
'Nothing.'
They waited.
Maggie's heart pounded against her rib cage, the rhythm the same as the thump-thump of the rotors. Sweat rolled down her back and yet she felt chilled. She watched Wilson's profile. Jaw clamped tight. His visor prevented her from seeing his eyes, but his hands were steady, fists clenched on the control. Beside him, Ellis was an exact contrast--head bobbing and twisting around, trying to see below.
'This is the Coast Guard,' Ellis yelled into the radio. 'Restless Sole, can you hear me?'
'Five minutes,' Wilson said. 'Where the hell is she?'
'Restless Sole, can you hear me?' Ellis shouted but only got static in response.
That's when it hit Maggie. Restless Sole. Wasn't that the name of Joe Black's boat?
'No one's answering,' Ellis said.
'Kesnick?'
'I don't see her.'
'We have got to get the hell out of here. Pull her up, Kesnick. PULL HER UP NOW.'
Kesnick obeyed. The cable whined and spun. Maggie waited to see Liz come over the doorway. Instead, she saw Kesnick grab the cable and spin around to his pilots. He didn't say a word as he held up the cable. It had been cut.
CHAPTER 65
Liz couldn't do a thing as the cable whipped away from her and flew out of the cabin. Her lifeline was gone.
But she wouldn't have left now anyway. Not without her dad.
She asked if she could bandage his hand. He held it up and against his chest, the front of his jumpsuit already drenched in blood.
'I'm okay, darling,' Walter insisted.
She recognized the woman from the beach. She had never seen the man who casually introduced himself as Joe Black, never letting the revolver slip from her temple.
'We'll just all stay put for a while and the helicopter will go away.' Joe didn't sound fazed.
'They won't leave their rescue swimmer,' Walter said.
Liz couldn't tell her dad that wasn't the way it always worked. It had happened once after Katrina. The helicopter had been dangerously low on fuel and packed with injured survivors. Liz had told them to go ahead while she waited on an apartment rooftop with a dozen others, angry and impatient for their turn. It was nightfall before her aircrew was able to return.
'I'll end up with three healthy specimens,' Joe continued to rant. 'I don't have enough ice but I suppose I could tether a couple of you to the back of the boat. Put life jackets on.'
'Specimens.' The woman spit it out like she was disgusted and certainly not afraid. 'You're gonna nickel-and- dime my body parts? Is that what you have in mind, young man?' She was holding her ankle but it didn't stop her. 'I'll have you know that my husband was murdered for millions of dollars. Millions.'
Joe Black ignored the woman. He stood, braced inside the stairwell, blocking their way but also able to keep an eye on all of them. He'd tethered himself to the railing and was able to ride out the boat's pitching back and forth. When Liz almost fell, the revolver swung down with her.
The boat rocked more violently, climbing and falling with the cresting waves. The noise was deafening. There was a crash somewhere up above them. Something had come down hard on the deck. Their eyes lifted to the ceiling. That's when they heard the helicopter rotors moving away. Within seconds the sound grew faint. They were leaving.
Liz's eyes met her dad's across the cabin. She knew her crew couldn't stay. A cutter would take forever to find them in these conditions. It probably wasn't even safe to try. This wouldn't be like her Katrina rooftop experience. This time her aircrew wouldn't return.
Joe Black was grinning.
'So who wants to go first?' he asked.
If Liz rushed him, he'd shoot her before she could get the gun away from him. What had she told Maggie O'Dell? It wasn't about being brave; it was about surviving. Fighting against crushing waves or dangling from a cable didn't scare her. Even when survivors challenged her, she'd count on her training, redirect her adrenaline. Maybe she could talk this guy off his ledge.
Joe Black pointed the gun at Liz as though he could hear her thoughts.
'A cutter's on its way,' she lied. 'The helicopter probably had it in sight. That's why they left.'
She saw him consider it. Something crashed above again, and his eyes shot up but only briefly. Another wave slammed the boat. There was a high-pitched screech of something skidding across the deck.
'The boat's being ripped apart,' the old woman yelled.
'Shut the hell up,' Black screamed at her, repositioning himself in the stairway and taking aim.
'NO.' She heard her dad yell, followed by the blast of a gunshot.
Liz closed her eyes against the pain, but there was no pain. When her eyes flew open she saw Joe Black fall forward, grabbing at his leg with one hand, the gun still in his other.
There was a shout from the top of the stairs. 'FBI. Drop it. Now.'
He hesitated.
Another shot chewed up the carpet next to him.
He threw the gun aside.
Liz stood paralyzed as Maggie climbed down the steps, her gun still pointed at Black.
'Liz, grab his weapon.'
She obeyed.
'Is he the only one?' Her eyes darted around the cabin and quickly returned to Black. When she glanced up for an answer, all Liz could manage was a nod.
'Everybody okay?' Maggie finally asked.
Liz heard the helicopter returning. All eyes lifted to the ceiling, again.
'How did you--'
But Maggie interrupted her. 'We have to do this quickly.' Then to Liz she said, 'Wilson's in a pissy mood.'
THURSDAY, AUGUST 27
CHAPTER 66
PENSACOLA, FLORIDA
Liz woke up as the last stream of sunset lit the room. She had slept hard. Her mouth was dry, her eyelids still heavy. It took a few seconds to remember where she was. Second floor. Her dad's house. Her old room had been made into a guest bedroom but there were still remnants of her childhood--a porcelain doll on the dresser, the embroidered pillow shams--and reminders of her mother.
She could hear chain saws down below despite the hum of the window air conditioner. Her dad had set up the unit especially for her, dropping a bright-orange electrical cord out her window, stringing it down the side of the house and along the backyard to the garage where he had it plugged into one of his generators. A definite luxury, since the window air conditioner took almost as many watts as one of his refrigerators.
'You deserve to sleep,' he had told her when she came home for the first time around noon. It was already in her bedroom window. She hadn't asked how he'd managed to put it there with only one hand, his left one wrapped
