Thicker Than Blood - The Complete Andrew Z. Thomas Trilogy

'What are you doing here?'

'That is a very long story. I really need to use a phone, it’s—'

'Can’t get a connection here. I’ve been trying all night.'

'Is that your boat?'

'Yes, why?'

Vi glanced at the dark yacht offshore.

'Sir, I need you to take me to Ocracoke.'

'Huh?'

'If this were a road, I’d be appropriating your Lexus. Sorry, it’s an emergency.'

Again from inside the tent: 'Sam, what’s going on out there?'

'Just a goddamn minute, Gloria! Jeez!' Sam ran his fingers through his hair. 'Ma’am, we just got here. We’re just getting to bed. My wife’s been seasick the last twelve hours from these rough waters. I’m talking green, yacking her guts out every five minutes.'

'I understand that, but—'

'We’re cruising up from Jacksonville to Norfolk. We can drop you off first thing in the morning.'

'I need to be there an hour ago.'

'You have a badge?'

'My badge number is six-zero-nine-two. I don’t have the luxury—'

'You don’t have a badge? How do I know you’re a cop?'

Vi took a step back, sat down in the sand, and put her head between her knees. She could’ve fallen asleep in seconds.

'Sir, you don’t understand the day I’ve had.'

'And you don’t understand what you’re asking. You want me to take you to Ocracoke in the dead of night? Across that shallow inlet? Look, we only came in this close to get Gloria ashore.'

'Your wife can stay, I don’t care, but you are going to take me to Ocracoke right now. I’m not asking.'

'Did something happen on this island?'

'I’m not going into it. You just—'

'Well, you’re going to have to tell me something, sweetheart.'

Vi stood up.

'All right, fine. Andrew Thomas—heard-a-him?—the serial killer?—is on this island as we speak. I need backup. I need—'

'Oh jeez.'

Sam looked down at the bucket. He stepped toward the dunes and chucked the vomit into the sand.

When he came back he said, 'You better be who you say you are. I spent a third of my pension on that yacht, and if my mate grounds her on the shoals of Ocracoke Inlet, the state of North Carolina is going to reimburse me. I guarangoddamntee you that.' He turned and poked his head into the tent. 'Get dressed, Gloria. We’re going back to the boat.'

'You are shitting me.'

48

WE sat huddled together in the corner. The lodge was absolutely black.

'He put something in the jug of water, didn’t he?' Beth said.

'I think so. Oh, man, if I don’t get up, I’m gonna pass out right now.'

I struggled to my feet, Violet’s .45 clenched in my hand.

A whirlwind spun behind my eyes.

'I can’t stay awake much longer,' Beth whispered.

I staggered over to the broken window, peered out into the woods.

The live oaks glowed in the new moonlight, their twisted limbs lathered in electric blue. The marsh grass that surrounded the lodge stood so still it appeared frozen.

Through the fuzziness, I thought of Violet again, wondered where he’d left her, hoped the thing had been done quickly.

I felt so woozy now.

Beth was whispering my name and it sounded like, 'Anananandydydydy.'

As I turned my head the darkness blurred.

She was slumped over, motionless in the corner.

'Anananandydydydy.'

Then it occurred to me that Beth was unconscious.

The voice belonged to a man and it was coming from somewhere outside.

I looked back through the window.

A shadow appeared at the thicket’s edge, its pale face glowing like a moon in the dark.

Luther.

It emerged from the woods and started toward the lodge.

I aimed the .45 through the window, then realized my hands were empty.

The gun lay at my feet.

When I bent down for it, my legs liquefied.

I stumbled backward.

Crashed into the table.

Plates shattering.

I was down on my back.

Footfalls thumping up the steps.

My consciousness twirling and falling out from under me.

The door unlocked, flung open.

And I was gone.

49

AS Vi stepped aboard the 61’ Queenship Sportscruiser, Rebecca, she instantly understood why Gloria was green. The seas rollicked, the yacht tottering so fiercely she had to grab hold of the railing the moment her feet touched the teak deck.

The dinghy was halfway back to the beach by the time Vi had steadied herself. She watched Sam’s wife run it aground and drag the Boston Whaler beyond the reach of the tide. Gloria hadn’t spoken a word to her during the short boat ride to the yacht. She’d just glared. Her husband had begged her to stay on the yacht in light of the fact that a serial murderer was also on the island. But Gloria said in parting: 'There’s no way. Fact, I hope he finds me, cuts me up into a thousand pieces. Be better than this fucking nausea.'

Now he led Vi through the curved glass curtain wall that opened from the aft deck into the salon, where she sat down at the end of an L-shaped sofa.

Cherry wood everywhere. Italian leather. A flat-screen TV. Wet bar. Expansive windows, port and starboard.

Vi imagined that on a sunny day in the middle of the sea, the view was nothing but miles and miles of sky and green water.