“You’re doing all this because of Frank? You’re trying to get back at him. For what, abandoning you?”
“Close, but no cigar.”
“I didn’t know about you,” said Frank, the rasp of his voice so dry it sounded as if he hadn’t drunk anything in hours.
“Look, I love a bit of family therapy as much as the next person, but there is a time and a place.”
“Frank is your father. You must have some compassion for him.”
“He’s alive, isn’t he?”
“It was you that killed Annie, wasn’t it?” asked Laurie, glancing at Frank, who kept his head down as he continued through the water.
“If only they’d had you on the force back then, hey, Detective Campbell? Oh wait, they did. Pretty little thing, weren’t you? I can see why my brother was interested. Not that you’re not attractive now . . .”
“Enough,” Frank snapped, surprising Laurie with the clarity of his voice.
“Oops, sorry, Dad.”
“This is all one joke for you, isn’t it?” said Frank. “You killed my Annie, and now these other monstrous things you have done. Why?”
“That one is simple, isn’t it, Dad? He took you away from me, so I took something from him,” said Mosley, the humor fading.
“What do you mean?” asked Laurie.
“What I mean, Detective Campbell, is that your husband, my brother, stole my father. Stole my life, while my mother was left to rot in a wheelchair. This rankled. Then it occurred to me I could take the one thing from him he most cherished. His mother.” He sighed. “And it worked like a charm, I can tell you.”
“But this, you . . . none of it has anything to do with David,” said Laurie. “He’s only just now found out that you exist.”
“I am most savage and unnatural, aren’t I?” said Mosley, not missing a step.
“Wasn’t it enough that I paid for your crime?” said Frank, the passion in his voice fading.
“Thanks for that, Dad. It gave me all the tingly feelings to see you locked up, it’s true. But you didn’t even know I existed.”
Frank didn’t respond, his focus ahead as they moved toward a sheltered dock area where a number of boats had survived the hurricane.
“I must admit, I didn’t expect my girl to make it,” said Mosley, stopping by a small craft chained in multiple places to the dock. “One hopes, but . . . you know. I haven’t always had the best luck.” He giggled. “Anyhoo. Let’s get you both on board, and then we can see what state she’s in. If you don’t mind taking those off,” he added, nodding down to Laurie’s water-proofed walking boots.
“You’re not serious? You want me to put on my deck shoes or something?” said Laurie, wiggling her tied arms behind her.
Mosley frowned. “Watch your step,” he said, lifting Frank over the side of the boat before gripping Laurie’s upper arm and pulling her to the edge of the dock.
“It’s not too late,” she said as she allowed him to help her on. “Leave me and Frank here, and . . .”
“And what? You’ll let me sail off into the sunset? I wasn’t born yesterday, and I don’t care if I don’t live until tomorrow. Tough odds to work against, I know.”
Mosley’s death wish was apparent. He’d been trying his luck ever since he’d abducted Frank in Galveston. If he had a plan, it was probably vague at best, she figured. And had it not been for the hurricane, he wouldn’t have gotten this far. What was clear was that his gripe was more with David than Frank. That he had been driven to these actions by a brother who hadn’t known of his existence until a few hours ago didn’t easily compute. Laurie forced herself to examine it, knowing that what slim chance she and her father-in-law might have of surviving these next few hours—or minutes—probably depended upon figuring out what drove him. He obviously felt deprived of a loving family, so he’d taken David’s. Tit for tat; clear enough, heinous as it was. She couldn’t see anything she could do with this insight, though. David’s mom was long dead, and his wife seemed pretty sure to join her unless she worked some kind of miracle here.
What else did she know about Mosley? He’d obviously cared for his mother—albeit a little too much—and had made a reasonable success of his life as an attorney. Maybe she was clutching at straws, but she hadn’t given up hope that he could be reasoned with.
Mosley made her step down into the boat’s cabin first. The only light inside came from the faint rays of sunshine filtering in from outside. The interior was dank and reeked of body odor. In the shadows, Laurie saw discarded cans of food and juice cartons before alighting on a shape cowering in the corner.
“Our little stowaway,” said Mosley, easing Frank down the stairs, his flashlight running over the shape that belonged to Tilly Moorfield.
Chapter Forty-Nine
“I’d ask you to put lifejackets on, but you won’t need them,” said Mosley, placing the flashlight in the middle of the cabin as he retreated up onto the deck of the boat, locking the doors behind him.
“Tilly, are you OK?” said Laurie, struggling against the zip ties that by now had ripped through the skin on her wrists.
“I think so,” said Tilly, her voice the same dry rasp as Frank’s.
“We need some water,” said Laurie, shuffling over to the girl as the boat’s engine rumbled to life.
Illuminated only by the flashlight, Tilly appeared physically unharmed. “What are you doing here?” Laurie asked her, kneeling before her so she could see the girl better.
“I’ve been stupid. I wanted to see him, I couldn’t let him get away with it,” she said, nodding toward Frank, who had collapsed on the bench seat opposite. “I thought he was going to escape when the hurricane struck. I stayed outside his place all night, trying to get the courage to speak to him, and then that bastard caught me outside and did this to me.”
“I thought you and your father were leaving together,” said Laurie. “I haven’t heard anything from him, saying you’d gone missing.”
Tilly began crying. “He made me show him where I live,” she said, in between sobs.
Laurie’s heart fell, knowing where this was going.
“He left me in the van,” said Tilly, “but I think he killed my dad.”
If that was true, then any hope of reasoning with Mosley was surely over. In his twisted mind, he could feel justified in killing Annie, Grace, and Maurice, however nonsensical those reasons were. But how could he possibly justify killing Tilly’s father?
“We don’t know that, Tilly,” said Laurie, shuffling down into a sitting position next to her as the boat began moving. “Let me see your hands,” she added, peering down at the red, raw strips on Tilly’s wrists as the girl leaned forward.
The boat tossed from side to side as it made its way out to open water. Laurie fought against images forming in her mind of being sealed in a tomb, as the water slapped against the hull of the boat. The motion was rhythmic and soothing in its way and Frank appeared to be drifting to sleep. “We need to get these off,” said Laurie, using all the strength in her legs to push herself up, a cramp seizing one hamstring, then flashing into her calf muscle.