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‘He’s at the yacht club with Monica Fallon,’ Steve frowned. ‘What could happen there?’

‘I don’t know, but Monica could be in danger too.’ Sara looked beseechingly up at Marc.

‘I never question a woman’s intuition,’ he smiled. ‘Come on, I’ll drive you out there.'

‘I’ll just tag along behind,’ said Steve, following them outside and climbing into his car.

‘Thank you,’ Sara murmured as she seated herself next to Marc. She felt decidedly foolish. But then again, she had been behaving foolishly for the past week.

‘Do you have these types of premonitions about people often?’ he questioned, an amused tilt to his mouth. ‘Because if you do, you could start writing one, of those psychic columns predicting disasters.’

‘This isn't a joking matter,’ she frowned. Then as an acute wave of anxiety swept over her, she added, ‘And could you please drive a little faster?’

‘Getting arrested won’t get us there faster,’ he pointed out, his expression taking on serious overtones as he realised she was in earnest.

By the time they reached their destination, her head was clear of its earlier fog and her whole concentration was focused on her instinctive knowledge of impending danger.

As she and Marc walked into the clubhouse, Steve joined them. The clerk at the front desk gave all three a curious glance before his attention came to rest on Sara’s eye. She did not even flush, as her anxiety built to monstrous proportions.

‘Have you seen my sister?’ Marc demanded.

‘She and Mr Garwood went down to the yacht a few minutes ago,’ he replied, unable to drag his gaze away from Sara’s face.

Immediately she was on her way out the door and down to the pier with the men close behind. Her pace had turned into a sprint, forcing them into a jog.

‘Hey, Bobbie, retie those lines,’ Marc called out to a young boy ahead of them who was busily unwrapping the heavy lines mooring one of the boats.

‘But your sister wants to take
Wandering Lady
out,’ Bobbie looked towards the approaching trio in some confusion.

‘Tie her back up,’ Marc ordered. ‘I want to check her out. There may be something wrong.’

‘What’s going on? Marc, what are you doing here with Miss Manderly?’ Monica demanded from the deck above them.

‘Permission to come aboard, skipper,’ Marc called up, already ascending the ladder to join his sister, with Sara and Steve close behind him.

‘What is this all about?’ Monica frowned as the three completed boarding while Bobbie retied the lines. ‘I thought we agreed at breakfast that I could have the yacht today.’

‘We did, and I apologise for the intrusion,’ Marc smiled sheepishly. ‘But apparently, in addition to painting, Sara’s into premonitions, and she seems to think that you and Brad are in some kind of danger. So I thought I should check out the engine before you get out into the ocean and have no way of getting back.’

‘Really!’ Monica muttered as her brother disappeared below deck. ‘I don’t believe any of this.’

Sara’s face reddened in embarrassment, but still the sensation of danger was too strong to allow her to desert her conviction that something was very wrong.

‘Speaking of Brad, where is he?’ Steve asked, his eyes travelling over the empty deck and bridge.

‘I think the first question to be answered is who you are,’ Monica frowned.

‘I’m Steve Manderly, Sara’s brother,’ Steve introduced himself. ‘And I work for Brad Garwood. The desk clerk said he was here with you, but I don’t see him and it’s important that I locate him. Do you know where he is?'

'The man was exhausted,’ Monica explained, obviously annoyed by this invasion of her privacy. ‘I persuaded him to take the day off and go fishing with me. He’s in one of the cabins napping right now. I was going to wake him in an hour or so.’

‘You know,’ said Sara, forcing a calmness into her voice she did not feel, ‘I’ve never been on such a large vessel before. You don’t mind if I look around, do you?’

Before Monica could protest, she was past the woman and on her way below deck to the cabins. The first one was empty, but in the second she found Brad stretched out on the double bed. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Sara paused, her rational side waging a battle with her intuition. Intuition won. No matter how foolish she looked, she couldn’t let him go out on this boat today. Walking stiffly over to the bed, she shook his arm gently. When his eyes didn’t open, she shook him again, this time harder. Panic began to build when there was still no response. ‘Please, wake up,’ she stammered.

‘Sara, what’s wrong?’ Steve demanded, entering the cabin and joining her by the bed.

‘I can’t wake him,’ she choked out, touching Brad’s face caressingly. ‘Do you think he’s had a heart attack?’

‘No,’ Steve frowned, placing his hand over the pulse in Brad’s neck. ‘His heartbeat is slow but strong and his breathing is regular.’ Raising an eyelid, he looked at the pupil and his jaw hardened. ‘I’d say he was drugged.’

‘I’ve checked the engine and there’s nothing wrong with it,' Marc's voice sounded from the passageway before Sara could react to Steve's diagnosis. A moment later he entered the cabin and coming to a halt beside her, demanded, ‘What's going on?’

‘We can't wake him,’ she said, fighting back the tears. ‘You'd better call an ambulance.’

‘That won't be necessary ,’ Monica announced calmly from the doorway where she had been silently observing the others. ‘He'll wake up in a couple of hours or maybe a little longer. I had to compensate for his size and might have made the dose a little heavier than I'd planned. But he’s in no danger right now. I don't plan to have him die from an overdose of drugs.'

‘You . . Sara turned to face the woman, only to have her next words catch in her throat as she saw the gun in Monica's hand.

‘Yes, Miss Manderly, me.’ Monica’s expression was ice. ‘And it would appear that you and your brother are much too nosy for your own good.’

‘Monica, what’s got into you?' Marc demanded, staring at his sister in disbelief.

‘Sorry, baby brother. I didn’t want to get you mixed up in this,’ she said remorsefully. ‘But I have to take care of Brad today. Hanna will never forgive me if I let those papers be signed. Can you imagine a Yankee owning Cyprus Point? Of course, I would have preferred to marry him first and get the property out of Daddy’s hands, but Brad, apparently, isn’t the marrying kind.'

‘You aren’t making any sense,’ Marc tried to reason with her.

‘I’m making very good sense and you know it.' Her voice was chillingly calm. ‘When old Mrs Collins died just before signing the papers it was obvious Hanna was serious about never letting the property out of our hands. Of course, Martin Sayford was a different problem.’ Her mouth formed a petulant pout. ‘I waited for Hanna to do something about him. But when the week before the papers were to be signed arrived and she still hadn’t acted, I realised that she was counting on me.’

‘Counting on you?’ Marc muttered.

‘Yes, counting on me. It wasn’t so difficult either.’ A wild gleam sparked in Monica’s eyes. ‘The man was a drunken bore. He agreed to meet me in the mountains for what he thought was going to be a very enjoyable weekend—as if I would have let someone like him touch me! He told his wife he was going fishing with friends. I had him rent a cabin with the stipulation that it had to be secluded. I told him I didn’t want his wife finding out and causing a scene. Then I got him drunk and challenged him to a race. He was so sloshed he could barely get into his car, much less negotiate those mountain roads.’

‘Give me the gun,’ Marc directed.

‘I can’t do that,’ she refused. ‘I’ll need it to convince these people they have to abandon ship after we’re out in the ocean.’

‘You can’t be serious,’ he admonished.

‘I think she’s dead serious,’ Steve observed darkly.

‘You, Mr Manderly, are a very perceptive man,’ she smiled approvingly. Then directing her attention back to her brother, she said, ‘Since I don’t think I can trust you to co-operate, you’ll have to stay locked up in here with the others until we’re out of the harbour. But you’re a Halloway and I know you’ll stand by me when the time comes.’

‘We are not leaving this harbour.’ Marc moved slowly towards his sister. ‘You’re going to see a doctor. You need help.’

‘Careful, Fallon,’ Steve cautioned in hushed tones.

‘She won’t harm me, will you, Monica?’ Marc continued his progress across the tiny cabin,

‘I don’t want to,’ she admitted, a faint waver of indecision in her eyes. ‘But I can’t fail Hanna. You know how angry she can be. You even tried to warn Brad the day after the accident, but he wouldn’t listen.’

‘I was only putting on a show to impress Sara,’ Marc frowned. He was now directly in front of his sister and holding out his hand, ordered, ‘Give me the gun.’

Monica made a negative gesture with her head.

‘Hanna is dead. She can’t be angry with anyone,’ he tried to reason with her.

‘You’d better not say things like that. Hanna will hear you,’ she warned. ‘Now step back, I want to close this door and lock it.’

‘You can’t honestly want to kill three innocent people because of an old woman’s ravings,’ Marc scowled, standing his ground.

‘I have to, don’t you see?’ A plaintive quality entered Monica’s voice as she once again wavered. ‘Hanna will never forgive me if I don’t save Cyprus Point from outsiders.’

‘Hanna is dead! She can neither forgive nor not forgive,’ Marc stated forcefully. ‘Besides, killing Brad and the others won’t help you keep that damned plantation. After you left this morning, Dad told me that if anything happened to stop the sale this time, he was going to turn it over to one of the historical foundations and let them do with it as they wished.’

‘No, he can’t!’ Monica shrieked.

‘He can and he will,’ Marc assured her.

Frustration mingled with despair played over the woman’s features. ‘Hanna’s going to be so angry,’ she' muttered, her control slipping. Then looking into her brother’s face, she asked pleadingly, ‘Will you protect me from her?’

‘I promise, I’ll protect you,’ he said.

The gun dropped to the floor as she dissolved into tears in his arms.

While Marc soothed the sobbing woman, Steve quickly retrieved the gun and slipped out of the cabin. Sara knew he had gone to call the police and an ambulance. Sinking on to the edge of the bed, she picked up one of Brad’s hands and sat holding it tightly, trying to stop her trembling.

‘My manners!’ Monica suddenly pushed away from her brother and dried her eyes. ‘We have guests and I haven’t even offered them a drink. Miss Manderly, could I get you something? Some iced tea, perhaps?’

‘That’s not necessary,’ Marc assured her in humouring tones. ‘You’ve been under a lot of strain. Why don’t we go to the next cabin and you can lie down.’

‘Absolutely not! Guests can’t be neglected,’ Monica admonished him. ‘That’s a sign of bad breeding. Now, Miss Manderly, what can I get for you? A brandy, perhaps?’

‘No, nothing. But thank you,’ Sara forced her voice into a polite mode, not wanting to throw the other woman into yet another mood change.

The sounds of several pairs of feet could now be heard above them and Monica’s attention shifted to the new arrivals. ‘It seems as if we have several guests topside,’ she said. ‘I’d better see to them.’

Marc led her away while Sara continued to sit clutching Brad’s hand.

The paramedics arrived only moments later and she was forced into a corner while they examined him. ‘He’ll be fine,’ the older of the two men assured her as they transferred his still unconscious form on to a stretcher. ‘His heartbeat is strong and his blood pressure is good. Don’t you worry.’

She nodded, unable to speak from the strain of holding back her tears. Once the men were gone, she allowed herself a few minutes alone, then drying her eyes, went up on deck to join the others.

Her ‘premonition of disaster’ story earned her a few guarded glances, but Monica’s behaviour garnered the majority of attention. Between bouts of offering everyone drinks and being solicitous towards Sara’s eye, she calmly explained to the police about the necessity of keeping her family home. She told of manipulating Martin Sayford and arranging accidents for Brad as if these were rational everyday activities like pulling weeds from a garden.

Taking Sara aside, Marc apologised for his sister’s behaviour.

‘It isn’t your fault she’s sick,’ said Sara, adding, ‘We all owe you our lives.’

‘I have to believe that in the end she wouldn’t have gone through with murdering all of you,’ he shook his head sadly. ‘I only hope the doctors can help her bury Hanna once and for all.’

‘I hope so, too.’ Sara soothed.

‘Does Brad know what a lucky guy he is?’ he questioned, reaching out to take her hand.

‘I think we should rejoin the others,’ she suggested tightly, freeing her hand and moving back towards Steve.

‘The man’s a fool,’ he muttered, following her.

After some quiet discussion between Marc, Steve and the police, it was agreed that the police would escort Monica to a private sanatorium where she would be held under guard until the District Attorney could decide what charges to bring against her. Marc remained with her, holding her hand and telling her that everything would be fine. She accepted the solution calmly, placing her faith in her brother’s words.

Standing in the parking lot, watching the police drive away with Marc and Monica, Steve offered to drop Sara off at his house, but she insisted on going to the hospital with him. She had to see Brad one last time to be certain he was really all right.

‘Have you been having these premonitions long, Sis?’ Steve asked as he guided the car out on to the main road.

‘Only where the family are concerned,’ she replied quietly.

‘Like Mom,’ he said. It was more of a statement than a question.

She nodded but remained silent. Knowing her well enough to understand that she was not ready to talk about this yet, he said no more.

Arriving at the hospital, the doctor told them that Brad was going to be fine. ‘He had a pretty large dose, but he’s fighting the drug. He’s been drifting in and out of consciousness and it’s going to take some time before he can work all the barbiturate out of his system.’