The Devil's Triangle (23 page)

Once the boat had been hidden, her new friends had taken her spear fishing. She had proved useless at it, but had enjoyed the experience, laughing along with the others at her awkward attempts. Tony had eventually taken pity and helped her, standing close behind her with his hand over hers on the spear for what had seemed like forever before guiding her to her first successful catch. She shivered at the memory. His body close behind her and his hand squeezing on hers had felt both amazing and intensely embarrassing at the same time. Tessa had not looked happy about the focus of Tony’s attention, but she did not intervene.

It had been late afternoon when they had finally left her. They had promised to return today, but had not set a time. Niamh looked at her watch: 09:02. Bliss. It was the longest she had slept in since arriving in Florida. What was the time back home now? Two in the afternoon? Instant feelings of guilt assaulted her. She was not going to find the boys by lazing around. Flashes of her recent dreams caused her to flush. Tony had featured strongly. This was not good. She could not afford to let herself become distracted. She needed to get moving again; start searching the coastline . . .

‘Niamh?’

Niamh sat up. It was Tony’s voice. A fresh flood of embarrassment washed through her as she considered her recent thoughts about him. She felt the boat tip slightly as someone boarded.

‘Tony? You’re here early?’ she called out. ‘Is everything all right? Are the others here?’

She sat up and looked across the boat at her reflection in the mirror.
God, I look like some kind of wild woman!
she thought, attacking her hair with her fingers and trying to tame it.
I can’t let him see me looking like this. I’ll die of shame!

‘No, nothin’s right,’ he answered, his voice anxious. ‘Listen! Niamh, you’ve gotta get outta here. Now!’

The urgency in his voice had Niamh bounding out of bed like a spooked deer. She had slept in her shorts and T-shirt, so she had no worries about modesty as she whipped the double doors open to see his bronzed legs, topped with a fresh pair of trendy Bermudas and a snug plain white T-shirt.

Cute!
she thought, trying not to be too obvious about looking him up and down as she clambered up out of the low-level cabin onto the deck.

‘What’s the panic? Are the cops coming?’

‘If they’re not, then they will be soon,’ Tony said, looking around as if he expected to see a SWAT team arriving at any second. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his dark Ray-Bans. ‘I’m pretty certain Tessa’s ratted on you,’ he explained. ‘An’ if she hasn’t, then she will soon.’

‘Really?’ Niamh asked, a sick feeling rising in the pit of her stomach. ‘Why? She seemed friendly enough yesterday.’

It was a lie. Tessa had been cold from the moment they had met, but she did not want to appear hostile towards a friend of Tony’s.

Tony handed her a plastic bag. Niamh was grateful for the diversion. Opening the bag she found a fresh, neatly folded T-shirt, a pair of sunglasses, some factor 30 suntan lotion and a newspaper: the
Key West Citizen.

‘Look at page nine,’ he instructed. ‘Tess called and handed me this earlier this morning. I know her. She loves being centre stage. If she hasn’t called the cops yet, then it’s only a matter of time.’

Niamh pulled out the newspaper and checked the date. It was today’s. Flicking through, she quickly found the page. There it was – the story she had told them in a single throwaway line the day before. So Tony knew the truth, yet he was here and helping her. Why? Her heart began to beat harder. Could it be because he liked her? Suddenly, it was difficult to concentrate on the article, but she forced herself to focus. A picture of her dad with her and the boys by the pool was alongside a separate one of Callum. The headline was: ‘Mystery or Murder?’ They must have got the pictures from her dad’s phone, she realised. Both had been taken by the pool earlier in the week.

‘I assumed you were joking yesterday when you told us what you were doing here. We all did. It’s true though, isn’t it?’ Tony stated more than asked.

‘Well, they’ve got most of the facts right,’ Niamh admitted, skimming through the article to the end. ‘It says here that Dad’s being held on suspicion of murder. Dad didn’t do anything to the boys. I
know
he didn’t. In fact, I can’t understand why the police have arrested him. Surely the similarity between Mum’s disappearance nine years ago and the boys going missing can’t be considered evidence. That’s rubbish!’

‘So why did you run? Why steal the boat?’

‘Because the police would have taken me in and sent me home to England,’ she explained. He was testing her, she realised. ‘The coastguard never found any sign of Mum when she disappeared nine years ago and I’m pretty certain that they’re not going to find the boys either. With the police holding Dad, I consider myself the only real chance Sam and Callum have.’

‘Do you have some idea where they are then?’ Tony asked.

‘Honestly?’ Niamh said. ‘No. But you may have noticed in the article that Sam and I are twins.’

He nodded.

‘I know it sounds crazy, but I
know
he’s still alive. I can feel him,’ she said, tapping her chest. ‘In here, I can feel him. I have this . . . invisible bond with my brother. Sometimes, when he’s in trouble, I can sense his feelings, but something’s changed. It’s like he’s nearby and yet a very long way away too. I keep thinking it might have something to do with the Devil’s Triangle . . .’

Niamh trailed off and she looked away, staring into the distance.

‘The Devil’s Triangle? What’s that?’ asked Tony, looking confused.

‘The Devil’s Triangle is an old name for the Bermuda Triangle. Dad became something of an expert on the Triangle after Mum disappeared. Sorry, I’ve just got used to calling it by the old name.’

‘Oh. That triangle. Right.’

The silence between them stretched into awkwardness until Tony finally spoke again.

‘Look, Niamh, I believe you,’ he said finally. ‘And I wanna help. I sort of know what you mean about a bond. Carrie and me have always been pretty close. We’re not twins, but I swear I can sometimes tell what she’s thinkin’. Listen, we’ve got to go ‘cos this boat is too hot. You’re gonna have to leave it.’

‘But if you help me won’t that make you an accessory?’ Niamh asked. ‘I don’t want to drag you into this.’

‘That depends,’ he said. ‘To be an accessory I’d need to know you’re a criminal.’ He grinned as he held out his hands. ‘I don’t know squat.’

She raised one eyebrow quizzically.

‘Besides,’ Tony added. ‘The cops’ll have to catch me first. Come on.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘To my kayak,’ he replied. ‘Then I’ll take you home to Carrie. Between us, we’ll come up with somethin’ to throw the cops off your trail. Change your shirt and put on the glasses. It’s bright out on the water. I’ll wait up on the bank.’

‘Thanks,’ she said.

It felt such an inadequate response, but Niamh couldn’t think of anything better to say.
He must think I’m a total dork
, she thought, mentally kicking herself.
Please, God, don’t let me make a fool of myself. He’s gorgeous.

She climbed back down into the cabin, peeled off her shirt and stuffed it underneath the bunk out of sight. The fresh one felt great against her skin. It had to be one of Carrie’s, she realised, looking down at the swirling motif on the front.

She slapped a healthy dollop of suntan lotion on each arm and more around her neck and over her face. Having rubbed it in as best she could, she reached into the fridge, grabbed the half empty carton of orange juice and downed the last of it in one long draft. The cool sweetness refreshed her mouth and went some way to filling her rumbling belly.

‘OK,’ she breathed. ‘Now stop acting like some dippy, mooning year seven and concentrate! Focus, Niamh, focus!’

Climbing out onto the deck again, she put on the sunglasses and leapt up onto the bank.

‘Better,’ Tony said, giving her an appraising look. ‘But you still look too much like you. Have you got anything to tie your hair back with?’

‘Not really,’ Niamh said, ‘But give me a minute and I’ll improvise.’

There was nothing of any use on the deck, so she descended back into the cabin and rummaged around. Nothing seemed to leap out and say ‘hair-band’ at her and she was about to give up when she had a thought. Reaching under the bunk, she recovered her discarded T-shirt. She had been about to abandon it anyway, so without a second thought, she began to tug and rip at the fabric until she had a usable strip of material. It was a bit frayed along the edges, but it would do the job.

Gathering her hair back into a single high ponytail, she tied a bow round it with the strip of material. Once back outside, Tony flashed her another smile and a shiver went right through her.

‘Perfect!’ he announced. ‘Right, let’s go.’

He led the way quickly to where he had tied his two-seat kayak to a mangrove tree that was overhanging the much shallower water just around the corner from the inlet. He drew out the paddles from the seat holes and laid them sideways across the canoe.

‘Have you been in one of these before?’ he asked.

‘Never,’ Niamh said, eyeing the narrow craft nervously.

‘No problem. Climb in the front. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it steady for you.’

Niamh had seen people climbing into canoes before. They had made it look so easy, slipping their legs inside the body as if they were sliding into a sleeping bag. The reality of trying to do it for the first time was anything but easy.

‘Ow!’ she exclaimed, as she found her knees pinned to her chest and her grazed shin pressed up against the fibreglass rim of the cockpit.

‘No, don’t try to sit down and then straighten your legs,’ Tony explained, gently helping her back up. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she assured him, desperately blinking back tears. She didn’t want him to think she was a pathetic crybaby. ‘It just stings a bit.’

‘OK then. Try again, but this time try sitting on the top of the canoe behind the cockpit first and sliding your feet as far forward inside as you can before you ease your bottom forward and lower it into the seat.’

Flushing with embarrassment at her first-time failure, Niamh tried again. This time she succeeded. The bucket seat was comfortable enough under her bottom, but it felt very strange to be sitting so upright with her legs out straight in front of her. The rim of the cockpit was hard against the middle of her back and the idea of sitting inside for any length of time filled her with dread.

‘OK, you’re in,’ Tony announced, as if it was a major achievement. ‘Here you go. This is your paddle.’

‘
My
paddle? But I don’t know how to row.’

‘You don’t row in a kayak!’ he laughed. ‘Don’t worry. It’s easy. Just rest the paddle across in front of you for now and sit as still as you can while I get in. I’ll show you what to do once we get going.’

The kayak wobbled slightly as Tony climbed in and Niamh was very glad that he couldn’t see her face, which she felt sure was turning a bright shade of crimson as she felt his feet slide around her and come to rest against her outer thighs. It felt so intimate. Then they were moving. Out of the corner of her eye, Niamh could see Tony’s paddle dipping into the water, first one side and then the other. The blades made virtually no splash as they slipped in and out of the water, but Niamh was amazed at the way the boat accelerated as he powered them away from the shore. Sitting this close to the surface made it seem as though they were fizzing through the water.

‘Wow! This is amazing!’ she said. ‘I had no idea these things went so fast.’

Tony laughed. ‘You should try surfing in one,’ he said. ‘That’s a total rush!’

‘I’ll pass on that for now, thanks.’

‘No surf today anyway,’ he told her, sounding mildly disappointed. ‘So I guess we’ll just have to settle for teaching you the basics. OK, lift up your paddle in both hands. Try to make sure your hands are about shoulder-width apart

Over the next few minutes, Tony talked Niamh through the basics of paddling. First he had her making the motions above the water, progressing her quickly through to dipping the blades without trying to apply power and then on to actually putting some effort into moving them forward. To Niamh’s delight, she picked up the rhythm quickly and before long the kayak was hissing through the water even faster.

They rounded the end of Monkey Island quite quickly and set out across the water towards the next island.

‘How long is it going to take to paddle to your house?’

‘Well, it took me about forty minutes to get to you this mornin’,’ he replied. ‘But I was pushin’ it. My arms are pretty tired. I’d guess about forty-five, maybe fifty minutes. An’ it looks like it was a good job I did.’

‘Why? What do you mean?’

‘We’ve got company on the way: behind and to our left. Looks like an FWC boat.’

‘FWC?’

‘Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission: they’re the real cops of these waters,’ Tony explained. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if the Sheriff’s Office hasn’t got ’em out lookin’ for you. When they come alongside, just wave ’n’ smile. Let me do all the talkin’, OK? A couple of seconds of your accent and we’ll be at the bottom of the ninth, two strikes down, having hit a pop-up to midfield.’

‘Whatever that means!’ Niamh said, a nervous flutter unsettling her stomach. ‘Are you talking American football language or something?’

‘Baseball,’ he replied. ‘Football’s OK, but here in the Keys, baseball is the only sport that matters. What I meant was, we’d need a miracle.’

‘I understand. Don’t worry, if they take me in, I’ll tell them I fooled you into helping me.’

Niamh could hear the drone of the motor closing on them now. A glance over her left shoulder revealed a grey dinghy skimming across the water towards them at high speed. The driver was wearing a creamy-coloured, short-sleeved shirt, dark glasses and a baseball cap with a tan-coloured peak. There was nowhere to hide. All she could do was place her trust in Tony and pray he was a good liar.

CHAPTER TWENTY