She was thinking there had to be something sharp enough to break the zip ties, when the cabin was thrown into darkness. Tilly screamed, waking Frank, who asked where they were.
“We’re in the hull of the boat, Frank, and the flashlight just went out. Nothing to be worried about.”
Leaning up against the small metallic sink, Laurie devoted herself to working the zip tie against the counter, though each movement sent shivers of pain through her. Even if she did manage to get free, the doors were sealed and she was growing increasingly worried that Mosley planned to abandon them in this floating grave, which wouldn’t last long against the elements.
“What’s that?” said Tilly, as above them the familiar, deep, tight rhythm of churning blades reached them.
“Coast Guard chopper,” said Laurie, picturing Patrick and his colleagues hovering above the boat, checking with Mosley that he was safe.
Tilly started screaming and Laurie waited for the sound to ease before telling her she was wasting her breath. They couldn’t possibly be heard, and there was nothing to arouse suspicion about Mosley’s boat. It wouldn’t be the only one out on the gulf on this day after the storm, and even if it was registered to him, she doubted he’d left any identifiable marks on its hull. She hadn’t seen a name on the hull, and the color and style of the boat were similar to hundreds of small pleasure craft she’d seen out on the gulf before. Maybe Mosley would arouse the suspicion of the Coast Guard enough for them to send out a boat to check on him, but there was so much going on just now that it felt unlikely.
The sound of the helicopter faded and Tilly began crying as Mosley throttled back on the boat’s engine. Laurie worked frantically on her ties, but she couldn’t get any purchase on the work surface. Her actions only made the pain that much more acute.
She sat down next to Frank as the door was opened, a blinding shaft of light filling the interior of the cabin as, outside, seagulls squawked and danced in the air.
“I’m afraid your friends are gone,” said Mosley, skipping down the steps to the cabin, jumping the last with an elaborate flourish. “But they might be back any time, so we need to get this over with. On your feet. Here, let me help you, old man.”
“That’s your father,” said Laurie, as if somehow in all the chaos of the last weeks Mosley had forgotten.
“I would say in name only, but he didn’t even give me that, did he?” said Mosley, lifting Frank once more with considerable ease and guiding him to the deck.
“Follow what I do,” said Laurie under her breath as Tilly got to her feet. She didn’t know if she said it for her own benefit, or the girl’s. She didn’t yet have any plan, but she had to remain hopeful that one chance, however small, would present itself.
After the darkness of the cabin, the glare of the sun was blinding as they reached the deck. Squinting against it, Laurie joined Frank, who was standing precariously near the rear gunwale. Mosley was at the other end, his phone pointed at Frank as if he was lining up a photoshoot.
“At least let us have some water,” said Laurie, as Tilly struggled through the opening and joined them, her eyes half closed against the sun.
Mosley took three swift strides to reach them, grabbed Frank with lightning speed and cut his bindings. The old man cried out in pain as he lifted his hands in front of him and checked out the red, raw damage to his wrists.
Mosley stepped back. “Won’t want to get any saltwater on that,” he said, laughing to himself as he took his phone back out and pointed it at them. “There’s water in that container by your feet,” he added, pointing to a white box next to Laurie.
“Can you reach that, Frank?” said Laurie.
Frank nodded, groaning as he bent down and retrieved a bottle from the box. He unscrewed the cap and offered it to Laurie. “You first, then Tilly,” said Laurie, her throat crying out for the liquid.
“Isn’t this nice?” said Mosley, as Frank drank heavily before bringing the bottle to Tilly’s, then Laurie’s, lips. “When you’ve finished playing happy families,” he added, grabbing the now empty bottle from Frank.
This was the opportunity she had been waiting for. Her hands were tied behind her but she had the element of surprise on her side. Bending into a crouch, she ran headfirst into Mosley’s midsection, the muscles of her legs groaning with effort as she drove him, staggering backward, toward the edge of the boat.
Mosley had been knocked off balance but managed to grab hold of the gunwale. Both Tilly and Frank joined in the effort, pushing at Laurie’s back, but it all proved to be to no avail. Mosley was unnaturally strong, and fought back, springing himself up and forcing the makeshift rugby scrum back until the three of them were in a heap on the floor, panting and defeated, at his feet.
Chapter Fifty
The helicopter was nowhere in sight, the boat alone in the water. They appeared to still be in Galveston Bay, the devastated peninsula visible in the distance.
“Now, that wasn’t nice,” said Mosley, who’d gone back to recording them on his phone’s camera.
“Why are you doing this?” said Laurie, still gasping for breath after the failed attempt to push him overboard.
“We’ve been through that, Detective, haven’t we?” Mosley sounded disappointed in her, as if the line of questioning was tiresome to him. He began speaking into his phone. “Do you hear that, David? Up until the last minute, she wanted to know why. But you know why, don’t you, David? You stole my life and it’s taken me a hell of a long time, let me tell you, but I am about to finally steal yours. The wheel has come full circle. I’ve taken your mother, and now your father and wife. After that, we will call it even. You can get on with your life and, if I survive this, I will get on with mine.”
Their only hope now was a return of the helicopter or a rescue boat. For that to have any chance of succeeding, Laurie had to keep him talking. “I understand that, Neil. You’re right, you’ve been over it. But what about the others—Grace and Maurice?”
“You don’t know the half about Uncle Maurice,” said Mosley, with a sneer. “I’ve been representing him for all these years, remember. The man is a pervert. It’s been only me and the blind eye of that make-believe sect he’s latched on to that’s kept him out of prison.”
“So he deserved to die?” said Laurie.
“Hell, yes, he did.”
“And Grace?”
Something approaching serenity crossed Mosley’s face at the mention of Grace. “My, she was a beauty. You like to run, Laurie, don’t you? I’ve watched you. It’s not your fault, but you’re graceless. You get the job done, but that is what it is to you, isn’t it—a job? You stampede your way through to the end. It’s the same when you walk. Must be those thick legs of yours. No lightness, no finesse.”
Laurie had no idea what he was talking about, but willed him to continue. “OK. But what does any of that have to do with killing Grace?”
“I’m getting there. You’re in a hurry?” He tittered, then sighed. “Young Grace. Grace was like a gazelle. In the way she ran, and the way she walked. Funny thing is, your wife was like that too,” said Mosley, pointing the phone’s camera toward Frank, who was shaking next to Laurie. “A beautiful woman. She used to mesmerize me when I would watch her. Grace was the closest I had ever seen to her, and that was why.”