Harsens Island (18 page)

The explosions lasted for thirty seconds. The reverberation of the explosions dissipated, an unnerving silence followed, and then the silence was replaced by the distant whoops and yelps of ambulances and fire trucks.

Sam heard the crackle-voice of Rowland’s radio, his voice asking questions and issuing commands, intense and focused responses rapidly coming back to him. 

The dinosaur screech faded as the circling lantern found its groove. 

She heard a helicopter chopping in the distance.

The living room and hallway was lit solely by the flashing, pulsing lights of the cruiser.

Sam shifted her attention from the dead man at her feet to where she’d last seen Hunter. Holding her weapon at chest height, she went toward the open window by the couch and chair.

“It’s over Lynn,” she said. “You’re finished.”

With no response, Sam let her weapon down and stepped forward to confirm Hunter wasn’t behind either, that she had climbed out the open window after Serhad’s assault.

Rowland whistled two familiar notes. He was standing over the dead man.

“Who are you talking to?” he said, and with his right foot kicked Serhad’s gun into the room.

“I was looking for Lynn Hunter.”

Rowland said, “What?”

“Benoit doesn’t have Lynn Hunter. He has her daughter – Ann. Hunter killed her daughter to prevent her husband from taking custody. Ann came over with Hunter. It wasn’t the husband like you guessed, and it wasn’t Snake like I guessed.”

Rowland stepped into the living room, and looking around the shattered room said, “Sam, you are a constant wonder...” 

“Thanks. It’s part of my girlish charm. Listen, right now Snake’s in the trunk of the Camaro, Hunter’s AWOL, and the girl called Moon went through the window. Did you see her? Where she went?”

“Jesus, no idea – but she had a dozen cuts or more on her arms and face when she bounced out of the window. She might be out there bleeding to death. I thought Snake was dead?”

Sam produced an ugly smile.

“They’re a fun bunch, aren’t they? Who we thought was alive is dead, and who we thought was dead is alive.”

Rowland’s forehead wrinkled as he reached out and gently touched her right temple, moving her hair back a fraction, examining her skin.

“You’re bleeding. What happened?”

He showed a smear of blood on the tips of his fingers.

“Moon slipped a couple by me. My pride’s in worse shape…”

“…You might have a concussion…”

“…Whatever happens, don’t let her get close. She gets close and she’s going to hurt you. She nearly broke my neck. Listen, the main attraction’s about to start. Snake said there’s a helicopter coming for Moon.”

Rowland searched her eyes, the expression on his face hovering between disbelief and acceptance.

“Where’d you pick that up?” he asked softly, gesturing to her Kalashnikov.

“From one of Redsky’s soldiers. He’s tied up in the backyard.” She gestured to the front landing. “What about them?”

“Hannibal’s gone. Redsky’s unconscious but alive.”

“Do you call for backup or an ambulance?”

“That explosion was twenty minutes of fireworks exploding at one time, so that’s our first priority. Ed doesn’t think there were any direct injuries – the barge was remote control operated and anchored far enough away from the crowd and other boats. He dispatched an ambulance to us but they can’t come onto the property until I give them the green light.”

The lighthouse lantern fell dark and the machinery that spun it whirred to a stop with two loud electric snaps.

“It’s Moon. She killed the power. Her ride’s here.”

The helicopter circled, lighting up the grounds with its searchlight, creating an ominous thump that rattled the windows.

“Come on. She’s in back,” Sam said, gesturing with her gun. “The soldier should be to the right of the kitchen, close to the steps. If you don’t see him then he’s escaped. Both eyes, sheriff.”

Rowland followed her to the kitchen.

Moon was in the center of the helicopter spotlight, arms outstretched, face up. She was revolving clockwise: right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot.

“What’s she doing?” Rowland asked.

“The pilot’s checking her for weapons and explosives. It’s protocol when you don’t have ground vetting.”

Rowland went to the kitchen bay window and cranked his head up to look at the machine. He whistled his two-note refrain.

“It’s a big son-of-a-bitch.”

Sam stepped into the frame of the open kitchen door and looking up saw the helicopter in its entirety.

“What the hell?” she whispered.

She’d expected a two-seat chopper, something small and agile. Instead, they had dispatched a large machine, a Bell helicopter, a commercial carrier. It was easily forty-feet in length, painted matte black, and had two, dull-red stripes that extended from its nose to its tail.

As the monster hovered, it was plain by its movements that its pilot was judging the dangerously limited space of the backyard, the trees along the river, and the shifting winds from the river.

Then the machine dropped, its chop-thump vibrating the windows of the house, uprooting a bank of white flowers that were then tossed and scattered throughout the yard and against the house.

Sam cringed as the bright light illuminated Moon’s face and arms, exposing dozens of bloody lacerations from her spill through the living room window. It was as if she had been repeatedly slashed with a box cutter. The wind of the chopping blades forced the blood to spread over her skin in long, red trails.

Moon stepped backwards, struggling to stay upright in the churning air, her hands and forearms raised to shield her eyes from the spotlight, which was fixed solely on her.

When the chopper touched down, Moon sprinted to the open cabin door opposite Sam; then she was climbing into the machine, her hands clutching at the seats and flooring, lifting herself up and in.

The helicopter doors slid shut.

The machine rose.

In that moment Snake appeared, running, coming from their right, from the east side of the house, yelling. His wrists were still tied together.

“Moon! Moon!”

The chopper was three feet off the grass when he leapt at it, grabbing its left landing skid, throwing a sudden and unexpected counter-balance against the machine. It continued to rise but the little man hung on, his legs dangling and swaying, his weight and pendulum motion forcing the chopper down and left.

The pilot tried to counter the movement, and doing this caused the blades to scrape the lighthouse’s red cupola.

The machine veered sharply right, catching the branches of a tree, tilted madly, spun counter-clockwise, and tossed the little man into another tree like a casually discarded doll, breaking his back and neck simultaneously.

“Go!”
Sam yelled, pushing Rowland forward.

They charged through the house, hurdled over the dead servant, and came to a stop in front of the cruiser and its flashing, pulsing lights.

The helicopter engine screeched as its damaged blades battled the physics of gravity, inertia, and fate. It tilted down and away from the lighthouse, exposing its undercarriage, spinning to the river, and then it crashed, striking trees, the shoreline and water, creating an explosion and fireball that forced them to the ground.

Some thirty-odd seconds passed. The pops and bangs of the helicopter disintegrating were the only sounds.

Rowland rose to his knees and then put one knee up, one foot flat.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I just need a minute.”

A second, smaller explosion came from the chopper.

“You know what?” Rowland said.

“What?”

“People are fucked up.”

She pushed off the driveway, remained on her knees, and shook her head, laughing.

“You know what I mean?” he said, laughing with her.

“Yeah,” Sam said, “yeah I do.”

Sam sensed the man before he spoke, sensed him as he emerged from the shadows of the arbor, drawing closer to her and Rowland.

“There’s something you don’t see every day.”

Houle set his briefcase down.

“I was in the sixty-eight Tet offensive when a chopper crashed no more than fifty yards from me. A section of a blade, like a machete, missed my head by a whisker and came to rest in the chest of the soldier behind me. Split him open like a ripe melon.”

Sam scanned him from head to toe.

“Thanks for the history lesson, pops,” she said. “Where’ve you been hiding?”

Houle fixed his gaze on the sheriff.

“Sheriff Rowland, I’ve assessed the front perimeter and have made arrangements to medevac Chief Redsky to Walpole…”

“…The hell you say…”

“…Several vested representatives will be joining us shortly, so please don’t interfere with the grounds or its victims until they’ve seen what we have to deal with. I already know Mr. Hannibal is beyond saving, so he may stay, along with anyone else that perished. Tell me, was Snake on board?”

Sam’s eyes rested on Houle.

“No, but he’s dead,” she answered. “He’s out there somewhere, in the trees or maybe the water’s edge. He tried to board as it took off, and that caused the crash – he threw the machine off-center.”

Houle’s lips pressed together and he nodded in understanding.

“That’s a shame. He was an odd man but a good man. At least until he got involved with the girl. She was in in the helicopter, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re certain?”

“One-hundred percent,” Sam said.

“Excellent.”

“That’s good news?” Rowland said.

“Not at all. Many people invested in her mother, or, let’s say, the promise of her mother, so I assure you her death will be met with more anger than joy. But now with the girl’s demise no one else will suffer. Sheriff, you have no conception of the damage and chaos her family created. Her mother thought she was going to create miraculous things but instead she became greedy and paranoid and destroyed everything she touched, including her husband and children. It is a tragic waste of life from which no good has come.”

Sam spoke coldly.

“Snake said they were dropping her in the lake.”

Houle’s response was immediate.

“He was in love with her. He would’ve said anything to keep her here. He refused to accept she didn’t share his feelings. No, this was not the predicted ending.”

“Snake worked for you?” Sam said.

“He was an independent contractor, not affiliated with any agency or party. He liked to assume dissimilar roles or characters, and so he traveled a great deal, wearing different hats, fancying himself as an actor of sorts. He lived an odd, solitary life.”

“Sam?” Rowland said. “What is all this?”

Houle said nothing. He looked at Sam.

“This, all of this,” Sam said to Rowland, gesturing, “is the life my father and mother lived.”

Rowland studied her for a few seconds.

“Who are you?” Rowland asked. “Who are you, really?”

Houle addressed Rowland.

“Sheriff, are you asking my client who she
is
, or who she
was
? I suspect you’re referring to who she
was,
or perhaps what she
did.
It’s obvious she’s capable in a number of areas, and has, as some might say, a unique skill set…”

Sam interjected.

“…You don’t need to defend or explain me...”

Houle ignored her.

“…But she
is
moral, compassionate, intelligent, and fearless. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Rowland glanced at Houle and then to Sam.

“Yeah, those are good words, I guess.”

“Then you’ve answered your question. You
know
who she is.”

Rowland nodded.

“Alright. I understand.”

“Good. Now. Lynn Hunter is in the back of Mr. Hannibal’s former Mercedes. She’s waiting for you to arrest her for her daughter’s murder.”

“No shit,” Rowland said.

“Consider it a gift. I will be here or close by, but anyone that contacts you from my camp will mention my first name only. ‘Fred sent me’ – something along those lines. We’ll be utilizing the island’s airstrip for tonight only.”

“And what camp are you with?” Rowland asked.

Houle smiled. His eyes sparkled.

“The winning camp, naturally.”

He picked up his briefcase.

“Samantha, you and I need to confer privately. We’ll let the sheriff get to work. Do you have a car?”

“Yeah, down the road a piece.”

“Let’s talk there. We need to separate you from this. Sheriff, you were a one-man army tonight. Everything happened the way it happened with the exception that Samantha and I were never here. My associates will help you arrange a suitable cover for any loose ends. Samantha, if you would, before we go, I’d like you to disarm.”