Island of Secrets (14 page)

Slowly Nancy climbed up on the outer deck, stepping over the lifelines. Winchester stood close behind her.

“Is Hannah all right?” she asked.

“She will be, if no one tries to follow me. If someone does, you'll never see your friend again.”

Nancy tried to swallow, but couldn't. Then Winchester swung the gun. It caught her on the side of the head, and she went plummeting into the cold, choppy sea.

S
TUNNED
, N
ANCY PLUNGED
down into the blue water. A single thought whirled in her mind—she had to have air.

Instinctively, she began to claw at the water. The icy chill helped bring her to her senses, and her frantic thrashing turned into smooth strokes. She rose higher and the brightness grew, then she burst through to the surface.

She sucked in a great draft of sweet air and let herself go limp so that she was floating on her back. Gradually her heaving chest and racing heart began to slow to a normal rate. Her head ached and her thoughts were hazy, but somehow she knew that it was important to keep still.

It took tremendous willpower to stay relaxed in a dead man's float as images of what had happened on the yacht flooded back into her mind.

Cautiously, she looked around. As she floated on top of a high swell, she saw the stern of the yacht in the distance. She knew Winchester wouldn't be able to spot her any longer. She hoped he thought she was dead. She glanced toward the shore, then resolutely started to swim.

Settling into a steady, rhythmic pace, she gradually drew closer to shore. The exercise washed away the last traces of fuzziness from her mind, and she began making plans.

Eventually she saw a rocky beach just ahead, and standing there, ready to launch a boat, were Jim Hathaway and a couple of Coast Guardsmen.

Nancy waved and increased her speed. Jim splashed out into the water to help her wade ashore.

“Why didn't you wait for me?” he scolded gently. “I came as soon as I could.”

Nancy didn't answer. That was the past—what mattered now was the future. Hannah's future.

“The girl and boy told me you were on the yacht, so I knew something was up. I contacted the Coast Guard and met up with them right away,” he explained.

“It's Walt Winchester,” she said. “He has Hannah.” Quickly she told him about the bribery, the blackmail, and the dead beetle on Winchester's boot.

“I'll radio for backups,” Jim said. “Don't worry, we'll get him.”

“Jim,” Nancy said. “We have to be careful. Winchester mustn't know we're after him. I think we can sneak up on him if we fool him into thinking we're fishing.”

“My father owns a lobster boat,” Jim said. “It's moored over in Old Harbor.”

“That's perfect,” Nancy said. “It won't look like we're chasing Winchester if we're busy hauling lobster traps when he sees us.”

She turned to the Coast Guardsmen standing beside Jim. “Can you get a fix on the yacht with radar and let us know where to intercept it?”

“Sure,” the short one with red hair said. “But we'll have to communicate on a special channel. Winchester is sure to have his shortwave radio tuned in to monitor the usual stations.”

“Can you arrange it?” Nancy asked.

“No problem, ma'am.”

“Then let's go!” she said to Jim.

• • •

Twenty minutes later their lobster boat pulled out of Old Harbor and headed south with Jim at the wheel. Both he and Nancy wore hooded foul-weather jackets to conceal their identities.

Nancy kept thinking about Hannah, hoping she was all right. She told herself Winchester wouldn't hurt her as long as Hannah was useful to him as a hostage. She tried to make herself believe it.

The Coast Guard had advised them that the yacht was headed south on a steady course.
Fortunately, their lobster boat was much faster than the
Emily Sue.
They'd be in position to intercept it with plenty of time to establish their cover. When Winchester came close enough to spot them, they'd be working the lobster traps. He'd have no reason to be suspicious.

About half a mile south of Black Rock Point, Jim pulled the boat up to a green-and-white lobster buoy, put the engine in neutral, and showed Nancy how to hook the buoy and pull it aboard. Soon the metal trap, which Jim called a pot, emerged from the sea, dripping and full of wriggling creatures. They put on heavy gloves.

“Toss the junk,” Jim said, “but leave the keepers in the pot. Men have been killed for stealing someone else's lobsters.”

Nancy watched as he removed several spiny crabs and a large whelk from the trap and tossed them into the ocean. They pulled and emptied several traps while they waited for the yacht.

After rebaiting the fourth trap, Nancy watched it disappear under the waves, then anxiously scanned the horizon for the yacht.

“There it is, Jim! That's the
Emily Sue!”
It was headed toward them, all sails spread.

“What a beauty!” Jim whistled in admiration.

Nancy tugged another trap on board as the yacht closed in on them from the north. Since the wind was out of the west, the huge white sails were stretched out beyond the left side of the yacht.

Jim steered the lobster boat until they were east of
Emily Sue's
course. That would put them at an angle where they would be hidden behind the large sails as they approached. With any luck, Winchester wouldn't spot them until the last second.

When they judged they were in the right position, Jim throttled back the engine to neutral and Nancy sorted the contents of the trap while they allowed the yacht to close the gap between them. She knew Winchester would assume he'd pass them about fifty yards away if they stayed in place—as he was likely to expect them to do.

The timing had to be perfect. As soon as Nancy was sure the yacht's sails blocked them from Winchester's line of vision, she ran to the forward deck and picked up a line tied to the bow.

She quickly double-checked the noose she had knotted at the end of the line. Satisfied, she signaled Jim at the wheel.

Jim gunned the engine and the lobster boat leapt forward. As soon as the bow was clear of the
Emily Sue's
sails, Nancy spotted Winchester standing at the wheel. He seemed surprised by their close approach, but didn't recognize her in the slicker.

Seconds later the lobster boat swept past
Emily Sue's
stern. Nancy tossed the line and the noose landed, slipping over the radar post at the rear of the yacht.

Then she braced herself for the jolt. When the
line tightened, the forward momentum of the lobster boat yanked the stern of the yacht in its direction. The sails flapped wildly as the wind was dumped out of them and the boom swung over the cockpit.

Winchester was thrown off balance by the sudden jerk. He staggered, then saw the boom swinging toward him. He tried to duck and tripped. The boom just missed his head as he fell to the deck.

Jim gunned the engine and swung the lobster boat around until it was aimed at
Emily Sue's
stern.

Seconds later the bow of the lobster boat crossed behind the yacht. Nancy jumped from its deck into the yacht's cockpit.

Winchester was on his knees, partly tangled in the lines dangling from the mainsail. “You're supposed to be dead!” he screamed when he recognized Nancy.

“Not quite,” she said grimly.

“I'll get you yet.” Winchester lunged at her.

Nancy neatly stepped aside and gave him a quick karate chop on the neck. Winchester dropped to the deck, motionless. Before he could recover, Nancy grabbed a loose rope and tied his hands behind his back, then bound up his ankles.

Confident that Jim would now radio for the backup boats that had been keeping out of sight, she ran down into the main cabin.

“Hannah! Where are you?” Nancy shouted.

Silence. Winchester wouldn't have already—no, it was unthinkable.

“Hannah! Hannah!” Nancy raced down the hall, flinging open cabin doors.

She heard a faint thump, then another. Finally a weak wail. Following the sounds, she found Hannah in a tiny cabin, tied and gagged.

In a flash she ripped out the gag, then set to work undoing the knots that bound her.

Hannah swallowed several times to wet her dry mouth. Finally she was able to say, “I knew you'd come, Nan dear. But what took you so long?”

• • •

The next morning Nancy and her friends gathered in the sunshine on the dock, waiting for the ferry that was bringing George and Bess to the island. Sarah and Hannah stood together, while Nancy talked to Barb, D.J., and Jim.

“How is Scott doing?” Nancy asked.

“Okay, I guess, but it wasn't easy for him to see his father under arrest,” Barb said.

“When we brought Winchester into the station,” Jim said, “Scott was there. I got the feeling that even though he was upset, he was a bit relieved, too. The last months must have been a nightmare for him.”

“Thank goodness he has Angie,” Barb said, “and her family. When she called her mom and dad and told them about everything, they insisted that she bring Scott home.”

“Here they come now,” Jim said.

Scott and Angie, carrying their luggage, walked toward the group on the pier. Scott had dark circles under his eyes and his face was drawn, but Angie squeezed his hand and he managed a weak smile.

“What a send-off committee,” Angie said.

Barb grinned. “It's also a welcoming committee, you know. People go, people come. That's the way it is, all summer long on Block.”

“We'll be back in a couple of weeks,” Angie said.

“Whenever,” Barb replied. “Just have a good time and relax.”

“Divott.” Scott turned to D.J. “I don't know what's going to happen with the house—”

D.J. shrugged. “I'll keep building until someone tells me to stop.”

“Thanks.” Scott turned to Nancy. “I guess I should thank you, too, even though—”

“Don't worry, I understand.” Nancy thought about the crimes Winchester had committed after killing Tom. He might have received a light sentence if he had stopped there. He could have proved self-defense. But attempted murder and kidnapping in addition painted a bleak future for the congressman.

“Here comes the ferry!” Hannah announced.

Nancy watched the big boat pull into the harbor. George and Bess were in the bow, waving madly. Their familiar faces made Nancy feel suddenly happy.

Scott and Angie said goodbye and joined the line waiting to board. The ferry docked, and passengers began pouring off, chattering gaily.

George and Bess rushed over to Nancy and Hannah, full of enthusiasm and hugs. Nancy introduced them to her island friends.

“How's your vacation been going?” George asked, slinging her duffel bag over her shoulder.

“Were you bored?” Bess said, giggling. “I'll bet you missed the excitement of solving crimes.”

Hannah winked at Nancy.

“No,” Nancy said, grinning. “I didn't miss it. In fact, Block Island is the perfect place to get away from it all. . . .”

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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