Sleeping Alone (23 page)

“John, I—” She stopped. “It’s Bailey!”

“Jesus,” he muttered. “I thought she was home with Pop.”

Alex didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. They both knew that with Eddie anything was possible these days.

“Bailey!” His voice rang out through the drizzle and fog. “C’mere, girl!”

They heard two barks, then the sound of her paws hitting the wet, sandy earth as she ran toward them.

“Hey, girl!” John buried his face in the fur of her neck. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Bailey licked his hand, then turned to Alex, who kissed the top of the dog’s head. Suddenly Bailey pulled away from both of them and ran full speed toward the marina.

“Oh, God,” Alex whispered. Her hands covered her stomach in a gesture that had become as natural as breathing. “Eddie.”

“Stay here,” John ordered, then took off after Bailey.
Bad moon rising.
He couldn’t get the words to the old song out of his mind.
There’s a bad moon on the rise.
His old man usually didn’t start sleepwalking until three or four in the morning.

Bailey didn’t slow down when she reached the dock. John heard her nails clicking against the wooden planks as she ran.

“Bailey!” His voice cut through the fog. He was less than thirty feet behind the dog, but he could barely see her. There were no barriers at the end of the dock, just a drop-off. If she kept running like this, she was going to tumble straight into the water.

At least there was no sign of his old man. Nick Di Mentri’s boat was in slip three, where it had been for the last twenty years. Vince’s garvey bobbed up and down in slip eight. Everything seemed the way it should be. Bailey skidded to a stop on the slick surface, then threw back her head and let out a bloodcurdling howl that stopped John cold.

Slip fifteen, the last one before the end of the dock, was empty.

The
Kestrel
was supposed to be in there. Eddie had claimed that spot the day he bought the boat, and he’d never relinquished it to anyone. The
Kestrel
should have been there right now.

“Eddie!” The fog curved John’s voice right back at him. “Where are you, Pop?”

The only other sound was Bailey’s keening cry.

* * *

If John actually believed Alex was going to stay put, he didn’t know her half as well as he thought.

She loved Eddie almost as much as he did, and if the man was in trouble, she wanted to help. He’d opened his house to her, a total stranger, and made her feel as if she was part of a real family. It was something she would never forget. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for him.

“Eddie!” John’s cry pierced the fog. “Where are you, Pop?”

The ground was slick with rain and badly rutted from the long hard winter. The fog curled around her ankles and calves, making it impossible to see where she was walking. Twice she’d barely managed to save herself from a nasty fall.

She cupped her hands around her mouth. “John! Where are you?”

“Go back home, Alex. Eddie took out the
Kestrel.
I’m going after him.”

“No!” She broke into a run. “It’s too dangerous. Let me call the police.”

The lip of the dock knocked her off balance, and she fell to one knee. A sharp pain knifed its way up toward her hip, but her fear outweighed her pain.

“Please stop, John!” She scrambled to her feet and ran down the dock in the direction of his voice. “Let the police handle it.”

He stepped out of the fog toward her and grabbed her by the forearms. “I have to do this,” he said, gripping her tightly. “I can’t lose him the way I lost Libby and the kids....”

“But it’s not the same thing,” she protested. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

He untied Vince Troisi’s boat from its mooring and jumped in. “Take Bailey back to the house and call for help. I’m going to find Eddie.”

He vanished into the fog before she could say another word.

Dan Corelli was finishing up his report when the call came in.

“Shit,” said Dan, a frown pleating his forehead. “There’s trouble at the marina.”

That piqued the rookie’s interest. “Vandalism again?”

“Not this time.” Dan looked from Dee to Brian. “Looks like your old man decided to take the
Kestrel
out in this mess.”

“Oh, God!” Dee said. “Is he all right?”

“Don’t know,” said Corelli. “John called for help. “

Brian’s neutral expression twisted into a scowl. “Surprised he didn’t start swimming out to the boat to save the day.”

“Brian.” Dee’s tone was sharp. “This is your father we’re talking about.”

“I know who we’re talking about,” he said, not at all chastened or embarrassed. “I’d say I’m the only one who sees the situation for what it is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dee demanded, aware of Dan Corelli’s interest. The conversation would be all around town by morning, but she didn’t care.

“The old man’s lost it,” Brian said bluntly. “We’re not talking normal behavior here.” He listed some of Eddie’s more recent midnight rambles, a few of which Dee hadn’t been aware of.

“Who told you about his sleepwalking?” she asked.

“Sleepwalking?” He laughed out loud. “Is that what they’re calling it?”

“That’s what Dr. Benino called it.”

“Benino’s an old-timer who doesn’t know his butt from a hole in the ground. Maybe it’s time to put Eddie in a home. I offered Johnny the money, but he didn’t seem to see things my way. Too bad. I don’t offer twice.”

She raised her hand to slap his face, but some shred of reason stopped her at the last second.

“Smart move,” he said, his voice steely.

“Smarter than you’ll ever know,” she shot back.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Corelli said, a half-smile on his face, “but we’re gonna have to save this for another day. We’re on our way to the marina.” He looked at Brian. Even though his expression never changed, his dislike was clearly visible. “Don’t suppose you want to come with us?”

The telephone rang before Brian could answer. Dee crossed the room to answer it.

“This is Mr. Carling, Mark’s science teacher. Sorry to bother you so late, Ms. Murray, but Mark left his wallet in my car. I didn’t want him to worry.”

“Mr. Carling?” A nervous twitch erupted beneath her left eye. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the Pine Barrens with your class?”

Mr. Carling was silent for a good ten seconds. “I’m afraid the field trip was called off, Ms. Murray. I drove Mark home myself.”

“Oh, God.” She sank into the chair by the phone.

“Are you telling me he’s not there?” Mr. Carling sounded horrified.

“When did you drop him off?”

“About an hour and a half, two hours ago.”

Which was right around the time someone trashed Brian’s Porsche.

* * *

Mark didn’t know how long he’d been in the water, but it seemed like forever. He’d given up trying to swim for shore. Every time he struck out in what he thought was the right direction, he seemed to drift farther out into the ocean. He could feel all sorts of currents pulling at him, and he worried that the riptide was going to get him. It was pitch black out there and cold as hell. He tried his best not to think about what might be lurking beneath the surface of the water. He had to concentrate on staying alive... on keeping Eddie alive.

Eddie must have hit his head when he fell into the water. Mark had found him floating face down, right near the stern of the
Kestrel.
The first thing Mark did was feel for a pulse, even though it was real hard to tread water and hang on to Eddie’s wrist. He felt like crying with relief when he finally located a heartbeat.

Eddie couldn’t die. Eddie was the most important person in Mark’s life, except for his mom. It was Eddie who’d taught him how a man was supposed to act. Eddie who’d taught him to respect the power of the sea and everything that lived in it.

And he did respect the sea. He knew that the sea won almost every battle, and that you had to use your head if you wanted to survive. You couldn’t waste your energy screaming or thrashing around. You had to conserve your strength for when it mattered.

He had Eddie in a lifeguard’s hold. He tried treading water for a while, but his muscles quickly began to tremble with exhaustion from the effort. He rolled three-quarters of the way onto his back with Eddie cradled against his chest and prayed he’d be able to keep the two of them afloat until daybreak, when he might have a chance to strike out for shore.

Maybe if he left Eddie behind he’d be able to make it to shore right now. If he didn’t have to cart one hundred and sixty pounds of dead weight, he’d have a chance to get out of this mess. He thought of his mother and how much she’d done for him all these years, and he felt like crying. If he died, a part of her would die, too, same as a part of John had died after his kids were killed in that car crash.

John had aged right in front of them, his face crumbling in on itself at the funeral when those little white caskets were carried up to the altar and placed on either side of Libby’s big mahogany casket. He’d never realized a human face could look like that, as if all of the pain in the entire world was right there in his eyes.

He didn’t want that to happen to his mother. If he died, she’d be left alone. Maybe she’d even turn to that bastard Brian Gallagher if Mark wasn’t there to stop her. It wasn’t so hard to imagine it happening. Hell, he’d seen them together tonight through the living-room window.

All he had to do was leave Eddie to fend for himself. They were out beyond the breakers. Eddie could probably float on his back for a good half hour or so. That would be plenty of time for Mark to get to shore and find help before anything awful had a chance to happen.

That wasn’t being selfish, was it? He was only sixteen years old. He hadn’t even slept with a girl yet or bought his first car. He was too young to die. Eddie had lived his life. He wouldn’t want Mark to sacrifice himself so an old man could have a few more years.

But what kind of mans would he be if he saved his own ass and let his own grandfather die?

* * *

John rowed his way blindly through the dark, fog-shrouded waters. The flat-bottomed garvey moved noiselessly. The only sound was his heart double-thumping inside his chest. He could feel his pulse beating crazily at the base of his throat, in his ears, at the top of his skull.

They’d tried to tell him something terrible was going to happen to Eddie, but he wouldn’t listen. He’d clung to Dr. Benino’s sleepwalking diagnosis as if it were a lifeline, clung to it for so long that it had managed to turn into a hangman’s noose.

The fog clung to his skin like a damp spider’s web. He knew he couldn’t be more than a few hundred feet away from the end of the dock, but already the structure had disappeared into the darkness. He stopped rowing and closed his eyes, trying to regain his bearings. There was no moon, no stars to help him. No landmarks on shore. Nothing but his powerful, bone-deep need to save his father’s life.

He wondered how long Eddie had been gone. If he’d left right after John went to the Save Sea Gate meeting, he could be long past Cape May, on his way down to the Chesapeake. John wouldn’t stand a snowball’s chance in the garvey.

He’d told Alex to go back to the house and call for help. He should have told her to call the coast guard. The cops wouldn’t be able to help him out here. Why the hell hadn’t he thought of that before he jumped into the boat? All he’d been thinking of was Alex and whatever it was she wanted to talk to him about. She’d looked so serious... so sad—

He pushed the image from his mind. He had to stay focused for Eddie’s sake. He had to try to think like Eddie, figure out where he would go. When John’s mother was alive, Eddie used to like to take her up to a little cove near Old Barney, the lighthouse on Barnegat Island. It was their spot, one of those Shore secrets that the old-timers knew about and refused to share.

The last few days Eddie had been doing a lot of reminiscing about Rosie and the early days of their marriage. The cove near Old Barney was as good a place as any for John to start his search. Now, if he could only figure out which goddamn way was north, he might stand a chance. Based on the direction of the current, he made a calculated guess, and had rowed a good thirty feet when he heard a sound.

He stopped rowing and listened.

Nothing.

He picked up the oars and began rowing again.

“Help!” The voice was shadowy, indistinct. It could belong to anybody. “We need help!”

John lowered the oars once again and cupped his hands around his mouth. “This is John Gallagher. Where are you?”

He couldn’t make out the words, but the sound was coming from his left. A sense of foreboding snaked its way up his spine. He grabbed the oars one more time and prayed he wouldn’t be too late.

* * *

Alex locked Bailey in her house, then ran as fast as she could to the marina. She tried to ignore the tearing pain in her hip, but it put a hitch in her step that slowed her down even more than her growing belly.

“Thank God,” she whispered as the flashing lights of a squad car cut through the fog.

The car screeched to a stop a few feet away from the door to the marina office. Dan Corelli and a rookie leaped from the front, and to her shock Dee and Brian Gallagher climbed out of the backseat.

Her shock must have been obvious, because Dee immediately came to her side.

“I think Mark’s out there with Eddie,” Dee said without preamble.

Alex grabbed her friend’s hand. “I thought he was on a field trip.”

Dee’s lower tip began to tremble. “He was,” she said, somehow managing to keep her voice steady, “but it got called off. I think he saw Brian’s car in our driveway and got the wrong idea.” She stopped abruptly and looked down.

Alex’s gaze strayed toward Brian Gallagher, who was keeping step with the cops as they strode to the end of the dock.

“It’s not what you think,” Dee said. “I wanted to talk to Brian about Mark. My son deserves to know that Eddie is his grandfather, that John’s his uncle—all I wanted was to give Brian the opportunity to be part of my son’s life. You can probably figure out what he thought of that idea.”

She told Alex about the tears she’d shed and Brian’s slick attempt at comforting her. “The bastard tried to put the moves on me ten seconds after he told me he didn’t want anything to do with my son. I was so shocked I stood there for a moment until we heard a noise in the rhododendrons by the side window. I think it was Mark, Alex. I think he saw me in Brian’s arms and lost it.” A grin pierced the sadness on Dee’s face. “Somebody smashed the crap out of Brian’s Porsche.”

“You’re kidding,” Alex said.

Dee shook her head. “Somebody pitched a rock through the windshield and did a number on the paint job.”

Despite herself, Alex began to laugh. “Did he sign his name to his handiwork?”

“My kid’s smarter than that,” Dee said. “You’ve got to admit he knows how to pick his battles.” Mark would be grounded big time for what he did, but there was a part of Dee that obviously wanted to send up three cheers for teenage rebellion.

They joined the cops and Brian at the end of the dock.

“John’s out there right now,” Alex said, ignoring Brian totally. “He took one of those little flat-bottomed boats.”

“He won’t be able to do squat with a garvey,” the rookie cop said. “Better contact the coast guard for help.”

“You do that,” Dan Corelli said, “and see if we can get anyone from the Beach Patrol out here.”

It all seemed so primitive, Alex thought. Two men and a boy were out there somewhere in the dark, unforgiving sea, and none of the modern conveniences they took for granted could help them.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Dec asked Corelli. “Tell me the truth.”

“It’s bad,” Corelli said. “We’ve got a real nasty riptide going about three hundred yards offshore. They had problems up as far north as Brigantine and down by Absecon. That wouldn’t have been a problem in the old days. Back then Eddie could pilot the
Kestrel
through a gale.”

Alex leaped on his words. “You mean the
Kestrel
is strong enough to survive a riptide?”

“The
Kestrel
will outlive us all,” Corelli said. “It’s John I’m worried about. Superman couldn’t row his way out of the tide we’ve got going tonight.”

A hand seemed to grip Alex’s midsection, and she doubled over from the waist.

“You better go back home,” Corelli said, not unkindly. “It’s gonna be a long night.”

“No.” She forced herself to straighten up. “I’m staying here.”

He looked at her. “That baby of yours isn’t due yet, is it?”

“No,” she said. “Not for a good while.”

“You don’t look so good.”

“I hurt my hip before,” she said, brushing away his concern. “I’m fine.”

Next to her Dee lit a cigarette. Her hands were shaking, and the glowing ash moved up and down like a signal. How must it feel to know, Alex wondered, that your son, the child of your body, was in danger and there was nothing you could do to help? She wished she had some words of comfort to offer, but her mind was filled with nothing but terror.