The Devil's Triangle (14 page)

Her father ate quickly and in silence. Niamh watched him, jealous of his appetite. He appeared to be viewing the pizza rather like a refuelling exercise. His face remained expressionless and flat as he demolished one slice after another.

‘So after the Sheriff’s Office, what then?’ Niamh asked.

‘I’ll give my friend Mike a ring. He works with the Florida Wildlife people up in Marathon,’ he replied, meeting her eyes for the first time since he had sat down. ‘They have several boats – more than the Sheriff’s Office, I think. They did a lot of searching for . . . for your mum when she disappeared.’

Niamh had to look away. She couldn’t bear to look at him. The pain in her father’s eyes tore at her, yet strangely, she did not feel the pain for herself. Was she cold-hearted? It felt as if she was just going through the motions, rather than really believing that the search around the Keys would lead them to Sam and Callum. An empty space yawned inside her like the black mouth of a mineshaft, yet Sam’s presence was still there, like a distant echo. She felt no tears welling at the thought of him not coming back because, deep down, she knew that he was alive, just out of reach. But why could she not look her father in the eye? He needed her now, more than ever. Everything was mixed up.

‘When are you going to ring Callum’s parents?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted, shaking his head. ‘I keep thinking about that. I mean, what am I to tell them?’

‘The truth?’

‘Yes, but how?’ He paused, a slice of pizza drooping from between his fingers. ‘Oh, God! Can you imagine it?’ His voice changed as he began to playact. ‘Hello, Mrs Barnes – Matthew Cutler here. Sorry to disturb you in the middle of the night, but I just wanted to let you know that your son has gone missing in my boat. It’ll be dark here soon. There’s a storm raging outside and the waters around here have a nasty reputation for being treacherous, but don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll be just fine. The coastguards are out searching for him. They’re very good at their job.’

He tore a vicious bite out of his pizza slice. Niamh thought quietly for a moment.

‘I know there’s no easy way of telling them,’ she agreed. ‘But put yourself in their position: would you rather find out sooner or later that something bad had happened to one of us?’

The little colour that had remained in Matthew’s face drained away, leaving his skin the colour of pale margarine.

‘You are your mother’s daughter, Niamh,’ he said softly. ‘That’s exactly the sort of thing she would have said.’

‘Except Mum would have said it with an American accent,’ she replied, trying to lighten the moment. ‘I’d try, but I don’t do accents.’

‘Please, don’t! You get more like her every day as it is.’

‘And is that such a bad thing?’ Niamh asked tentatively.

‘No,’ her father said. ‘It’s actually rather wonderful, but when I look at you now, I keep seeing her. I can’t help it. It makes the pain of having lost her seem sharper than ever. Your mother was a very special lady, Niamh, and you are growing up to be just like her. I know I should be counting my lucky stars, but

Niamh got to her feet and stepped round the table. Turning, she sat down on his lap and hugged him. It felt good to hold him close. Good, but just a little awkward. How long had it been since she had last sat like this? Not since starting secondary school. Sitting on her father’s lap made her feel like a little girl again. Since she had left primary school, she had shed so much of the innocent, affectionate behaviour she had shown her father when she was younger. It hadn’t seemed appropriate any more. But now, feeling the affectionate squeeze of his arms around her, she began to appreciate what she had given up.

The time of her little-girl innocence had ended, yet her time as an adult had not yet arrived. She was neither one nor the other, but stuck in between. Suddenly, it felt a horrible place to be.

‘You will always be my little girl,’ he said, seemingly reading her mind. Another bright flicker of light outside cast eerie shadows round the room. The thunder boomed, carrying a crackling edge to it that bore witness to the violence of the burning bolts of lightning. ‘Come on. Up you get. I need to be doing something towards finding your brother. I can’t stand thinking about him and Callum being out in this.’

‘Ring Callum’s parents first,’ Niamh said. ‘They need to know, Dad. You can’t keep it from them.’

‘All right,’ he agreed reluctantly. ‘I’ll ring them. What time is it?’

‘Back home it’ll be about 9.30 p.m.’

He picked up his wallet from where Niamh had put it on the corner of the table and pulled out a scrap of paper from behind a credit card. He stared at the number and then at the phone. Niamh could only imagine how he was feeling as he reached for the handset. Anyone looking at him at that moment could have been forgiven for thinking he was preparing himself to pick up a poisonous snake or stick his hand inside a hornets’ nest.

The rapid
bee bee bee bop boo bee bee bop
of the numbers keying through were just audible to Niamh. She watched her father wait nervously for the line to connect.

‘Hello? Mr Barnes? Sorry to ring at this hour. It’s Matthew Cutler here . . . yes, that’s right . . . yes, I’m afraid there has been an incident . . . well, that’s just it – I don’t know. There’s no easy way to say this, David, but . . . well . . . Callum and Sam have gone missing . . . They took my boat out without permission and haven’t returned . . . About seven hours now . . . Yes, the coastguard and all the relevant authorities . . . We went out looking . . . Oh! All right. You have my number here? Goodbye.’ He put the phone down slowly.

‘What did he say, Dad?’

Matthew Cutler’s brow furrowed in a deep frown. ‘It was really strange,’ he said. ‘Have I missed something, somewhere? Callum’s father turned frosty the instant I told him the boys had gone missing. He only asked a couple of questions and then cut off the conversation. What was that all about? His son is missing for goodness’ sake!’

‘Beats me,’ said Niamh, giving a shrug. ‘He seemed friendly enough when he dropped Callum off at our house. Perhaps he’s just had one of those nightmare days when nothing goes right. Still you’ve phoned him now. Duty done.’

‘Yes,’ he sighed. He picked up the phone, steeled his expression and dialled another number. ‘Hello? Sheriff’s Office, please . . .’

David Barnes stared at the telephone for several long moments after replacing the handset. He took a deep breath and his eyes flicked across to the nearby coffee table where Callum’s postcard was still resting on top of the rest of the day’s post. His only child had always been one for playing practical jokes and when he had first read the card, David had laughed, assuming this was another. But the moment Matthew Cutler had told him Callum was missing, he could not help thinking that this time his son might have been at least half serious. It would be just like him to make a joke out of something like that. That was the problem with Callum – even when he was serious, he insisted on being the comedian. He leaned across and picked up the card again. The picture was an aerial photo of the Lower Keys. He flipped it over and read his son’s scrawled message again:

‘Who was that on the phone, darling?’ Natalie Barnes asked as she entered the room, a cup of coffee in each hand.

David was not sure how to answer. He knew his wife. She was likely to become hysterical when she realised something had happened to Callum, but he could not keep it from her.

‘Come and sit down, love,’ he began. ‘I think you’re going to need something stronger than coffee.’

CHAPTER TWELVE

‘You’re not doing the old
Wizard of Oz
line again are you, Brad? I’ll bet you’ve not even asked their names yet, have you? Come on. Help me get them inside. They’re soaked through and they look frozen!’

‘OK, Leah,’ Brad mumbled. ‘Sorry,’ he added, giving Sam an apologetic shrug and stepping out from the sheltered porch into the rain.

Sam grabbed Brad’s extended hand and struggled to his feet.

‘I’m Sam Cutler,’ he said. ‘And my friend is Callum Barnes. Thanks for helping us. I was convinced we were about to be eaten.’

‘With good reason, Sam,’ Leah replied, her voice deadly serious. ‘Let’s get you and Callum inside and we’ll explain what we can.’

Sam found he could barely stand, but with a determined effort, he staggered across to the doorway. He waited while Leah and Brad lifted Callum between them. They looked rather unbalanced, as Leah was so petite and slim next to Brad’s fuller, taller frame, that despite being in no fit state to help, Sam felt guilty for allowing her to do the lifting. Leah had a kind face, framed with long brown hair, heavily streaked with grey and tied back in a ponytail that reached halfway down her back. When she smiled at him, her features lit up. To Sam it was like being welcomed by a long-lost friend. She flicked her hair out of the way as she draped one of Callum’s arms round her shoulders. The couple half-carried and half-dragged him inside. He showed no sign of consciousness. Sam followed, closing the door behind him and hooking the simple wooden latch in place. The sudden quiet as the sound of the wind was abruptly muffled made Sam’s head swim.

Callum was placed gently on a sofa that had been roughly fashioned from wood and adorned with what looked like waterproof boat cushions for padding. Leah leaned over him, checking his throat for a pulse and hovering her cheek across his nose and mouth to see if she could feel him breathing. When she straightened up, she turned to Sam and smiled.

‘I think he’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘We just need to get him out of these wet clothes and wrap him up nice and warm. Brad and I can do that. Please, sit down. Here. Come and sit near the fire. You’ll feel a lot better too once you’ve warmed up.’

There were several other chairs in the room, all clearly hand-made from wood. Some had cushions. Others were just bare wood. The one Leah indicated looked to be the most comfortable. Sam did not need any more encouragement. He crossed the room to the chair and gently collapsed into it. The warmth of the fire and sudden overwhelming feelings of relief and security combined to create a powerful soporific effect. Sam’s mind was swimming with questions, but no sooner had he leaned back than he began to feel very sleepy. He had a vague awareness of someone removing his shoes and T-shirt. In a semi-dream he felt a blanket draped over his body and legs and then sleep claimed him totally.

Sam awoke in a panic, heart pounding and a scream hovering in the back of his throat. The nightmare had been more intense than any he could remember. The after-image of a horrible creature with terrifying teeth and overwhelming strength haunted the corners of his vision as he sat bolt upright. He took a deep breath and tried to relax. It had been years since he had last had a nightmare that felt so vivid.

‘Must have dozed off in front of the box,’ he mumbled.

The room was dark, but warm.
What on earth had he been watching to trigger that response
? he wondered. It was only as he sat up and looked to where he expected to see the TV that he realised he was not in the Key-side house. The day’s events came flooding back. The nightmare had not been a reaction to something he had been watching. He had been reliving reality.

Sam groaned.

The only light in the room came from the glowing embers of the fire. They were still giving off quite a lot of heat, but only the faintest amount of light. The distant sound of wind in the treetops and of heavy rain pounding the outside of the house told him that the wild weather was not over yet. If anything, it sounded worse than ever.

He shifted his weight and the blanket slipped from his shoulders. He was still wearing his shorts, but at least they felt dry now. How long had he been sitting here? What time was it? He remembered Brad and Leah bringing them in. Where were they now? And Callum? He had been nearby. Was he still there? Sam couldn’t see well enough in the dark to tell.

‘Cal?’ he whispered. ‘Callum?’

‘Sam? Is that you?’ came a sleepy reply.

‘Cal!’ he exclaimed, keeping his voice low. ‘Thank God you’re OK! You had me so worried.’

‘Where are we?’

‘I’ve got no idea, but I think we’re safe for now,’ he said. ‘Try to get some more sleep and we’ll worry about getting answers in the morning, OK?’

‘Sure . . . and Sam . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘Thanks for keeping us alive.’

‘I wouldn’t be too quick to thank me,’ Sam said. ‘You don’t know how much trouble we’re in yet.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Call it intuition,’ he said. ‘Try to get some more sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.’

Sam leaned back and closed his eyes again. It was easy to say, ‘We’ll worry about it in the morning,’ but sleep felt a million miles away. His mind was fully alert now and he could not imagine getting back to sleep again. He played back the events of the day again and again, trying to make sense of what had happened. The sound of Callum’s breathing settled quickly to the slow, steady pattern of sleep. How long he sat awake, Sam would not have liked to guess. He did not feel as if he had dropped off at all, but when he opened his eyes on hearing someone moving across the room behind him, he was surprised to see daylight filtering through cracks in the wooden shutters.