Plum Island

'Every one of them is feeling great.'

I thought I detected a touch of sarcasm in her voice. I stood and felt very wobbly.

Beth asked me, 'Are you okay?'

'I'm fine.' I reached down, and she took my hand and pulled herself to her feet. 'Well,' I said, mixing cliches, 'we're out of the frying pan, but not out of the woods.'

She said to me in a serious tone, 'I think Tom and Judy Gordon would be proud of your seamanship.'

I didn't reply. There was another unspoken sentence hanging there, and it was something like, 'Emma would be pleased and flattered to see what you've done for her.'

Beth said, 'I think we should head back in the direction of the Gut and find the main lab.'

I didn't reply.

She continued, 'We can't miss the lights. We'll get the Plum Island security force to help us. I'll put in a telephone call or radio call to my office.'

Again, I didn't reply.

She looked at me. 'John?'

I said, 'I did not come this far to run to Paul Stevens for help.'

'John, we're not in great shape, and we have about five bullets between us and no shoes. Time to call the cops.'

'You can go to the main building if you want. I'm going to find Tobin.' I turned and began walking east along the bluff, toward where we'd seen Tobin's boat anchored about a half mile farther down the beach.

She didn't call after me, but a minute later, she was walking beside me. We continued on in silence. We kept our life vests on, partly for warmth, partly, I guess, because you just never know when you're going to wind up back in the drink.

The trees came right up to the eroded bluff and the underbrush was thick. Without shoes, we stepped gingerly and were not making good time.

The wind was calm in the eye of the storm, and the air was very still. I could actually hear birds chirping. I knew that the air pressure was extremely low here in the eye, and though I'm not usually barometer sensitive, I did feel sort of… edgy, I guess, maybe a bit cranky, too. In fact, maybe pissed off and murderous was what I felt.

Beth spoke to me in a sort of hushed tone and asked, 'Do you have a plan?'

'Of course.'

'What's the plan, John?'

'The plan is to stay loose.'

'Great plan.'

'Right.' There was some moonlight coming through the smoky clouds, and we could see about ten feet in front of us. Despite that, walking along the edge of the bluff was a little treacherous because of the erosion, so we cut inland and found the gravel road that Paul Stevens' tour bus had taken to the east end of the island. The narrow road was clogged with uprooted trees and fallen limbs, so we didn't have to worry about a motor patrol surprising us.

We rested on a fallen tree trunk. I could see our breaths fogging in the damp air. I took off my life vest and slicker, then my shoulder holster and polo shirt. I managed to rip the polo shirt in half, and I wrapped both pieces around Beth's feet. I said, 'I'm taking off my undershorts. Don't peek.'

'I won't peek. Mind if I stare?'

I got my tight, wet jeans off, then my shorts, which I ripped in two.

Beth said, 'Boxers? I took you for a jockey guy.'

Ms. Penrose seemed in a playful mood for some reason. Post-trauma survivor euphoria, I guess. I tied the pieces of cloth around my feet.

Beth said, 'I'd donate my panties, but they were so wet when I changed on the boat, I didn't bother to put them back on. Do you want my shirt?'

'No, thanks. This is okay.' I pulled my jeans back on, then the shoulder holster against my bare skin, then the slicker, then the life vest. I was so cold now, I was starting to shiver.

We checked Beth's bullet wound, which was seeping some blood, but otherwise seemed all right.

We continued on along the dirt road. The sky was darkening again, and I knew the eye was traveling north and we'd soon be in the back end of the storm, which would be as violent as the leading edge had been. I whispered to Beth, 'This is about where Tobin anchored. Careful and quiet from here on.'

She nodded, and we both moved north, off the trail and through the woods back down to the edge of the bluff. And sure enough, about fifty yards off-shore was the Chris-Craft, and I could see it straining in the swells against two anchor lines that Tobin had set fore and aft. In the dim light, we could see the Whaler on the beach below, so we knew Tobin had come ashore. In fact, there was a line from the Whaler that ran up the bluff and was tied to a tree right near where we were crouched.

We remained motionless, listening and peering into the darkness. I was fairly certain Tobin had struck off for the interior of the island, and I whispered to Beth, 'He's off to find the treasure.'

She nodded and said, 'We can't track him. So we'll wait here for him to return.' She added, 'Then I'll arrest him.'

'Miss Goody-Two-Shoes.'

'What the hell does that mean?'

'It means, Ms. Penrose, that one does not arrest a person who has tried to kill you three times.'

'You are not going to kill him in cold blood.'

'Wanna bet?'

'John, I risked my life to help you on that boat. Now you owe me one.' She added, 'I'm still assigned to this case, I'm a cop, and we'll do it my way.'

I didn't see any reason to argue what was already decided in my mind.

Beth suggested we untie the line and let the waves take the Whaler out, thereby cutting off Tobin's line of retreat. I pointed out that if Tobin approached from the beach below, he'd see that the Whaler was gone and he'd be spooked. I said to Beth, 'Wait here and cover me.'

I grabbed the line and lowered myself the fifteen feet down to the Whaler onto the rocky beach. In the stern, I found the plastic crate that I'd seen when the Whaler was in Tobin's boathouse. There was an assortment of odds and ends in the crate, though I noticed the air horn was gone. Fredric Tobin had probably figured out that I'd figured him out and he was ditching little pieces of the puzzle. No matter-he wasn't going to face a twelve-person jury.

Anyway, I found a pair of pliers, and I pulled out the shear pin that held the propeller to the drive shaft. I found some spare pins in the crate and pocketed them. I also found a small fish scaling and fleshing knife in the crate, which I took. I looked for a flashlight, but there wasn't one on board the small boat.

I pulled myself up the bluff using the line, my underwear-wrapped feet digging into the sandy bluff. At the top, Beth reached out and helped me up.

I said, 'I took the shear pin out of the prop.'

She nodded. 'Good. Did you save it in case we need it later?'

'Yes. I swallowed it. How stupid do I look?'

'You don't look stupid. You do stupid things.'

'That's part of my strategy.' I gave her the pins, and kept the knife.

Beth, to my surprise, said, 'Look, I'm sorry for some of my nasty remarks. I'm a little tired and tense.'

'Don't worry about it.'

'I'm cold. Can we… huddle?'

'Cuddle?'

'Huddle. You're supposed to huddle to conserve body heat.'

'Right. I read that someplace. Okay…'

So, a little awkwardly, we huddled, or cuddled, with me sitting at the base of a big toppled tree trunk, and Beth sitting across my lap, her arms wrapped around me, and her face buried in my chest. It was a little warmer that way, though in truth it wasn't' sensual or anything, given the