Chapter 7 - THE WATER'S EDGE
The blinding searchlight washed the cabin in stark white, casting long, sharp shadows across the scattered stacks of cash.
“Federal Officers! Step out of the cabin with your hands empty!” a voice boomed from the megaphone on the cutter.
Cal froze. He looked at the duffel bag, then at me. The panic in his eyes morphed into the desperate, cornered look of an animal.
“Dana, wait,” he stammered, raising his hands palms-up. “We can fix this. I can give you the money back. All of it. We can walk away.”
“Walk away?” I let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. “You poisoned your own father. You tried to steal his home and dump him in a facility so you could run to Costa Rica.”
“He was already dying!” Cal shouted, the mask fully slipping. “He’s been a ghost for nine months! I just sped up the clock! I was drowning in debt, Dana. The dealership went under, the bookies were threatening me. I did it for us!”
“Don’t you dare use that word,” I spat. “You did it for yourself. And you left Bridget at a motel the second she wasn't useful anymore.”
Mentioning Bridget broke something in him. He realized I knew everything.
Suddenly, Cal lunged. Not at me, but at the console. He slammed his hand against the ignition button. The boat’s engines roared to life, violently churning the dark water in the slip.
“Stop!” I yelled, stumbling as the deck pitched beneath my feet.
Cal grabbed a flare gun from the emergency box on the wall and pointed it directly at my chest.
“Get off the boat, Dana,” he screamed over the engine. “Get off right now, or I swear to God I’ll shoot.”
I stared down the wide, orange plastic barrel. A flare wouldn't just burn me; at this range, it would kill me.
“You’re not going to do it, Cal,” I said, forcing my voice to remain steady, even as my knees trembled. “Because you’re a coward. You only attack old men and hide behind women.”
“I said GET OFF!”
Outside, the Coast Guard officers were shouting warnings, but they couldn't fire with me in the crossfire.
Cal reached for the throttle. If he pushed it, the boat would tear out of the slip, taking me with him.
I looked at the console. Resting right next to his hand was Mary’s sapphire necklace. He had taken it back from Bridget before abandoning her.
As Cal’s hand wrapped around the throttle, I didn't step back. I swung the heavy metal mooring cleat in my hand with all my might—not at Cal, but at the boat's glass navigational display panel.
The glass shattered in a spectacular explosion of sparks and dark smoke.
The boat’s electrical system shorted out instantly. The engines choked, sputtered, and died.
In the sudden silence, Cal stared at the smoking console.
Before he could react, two Coast Guard officers leaped onto the deck. One tackled Cal to the floor, knocking the flare gun from his hand, while the other pulled me safely back onto the dock.
Sarah ran to me, wrapping me in a tight hug. We watched as they handcuffed Cal, pulling him roughly to his feet.
“It’s over,” Sarah cried. “You did it, Dana.”
I looked at my husband as they dragged him away. He didn't look back at me.
An hour later, I sat in the back of a police cruiser at the marina, giving my formal statement. I handed over the pill bottle, the forged deed, and Bridget’s texts. The detective assured me Bridget was already being picked up at the motel.
When the sun finally began to rise, painting the November sky in pale streaks of pink and gold, Sarah drove us back to the house.
I walked through the front door, exhausted to my bones.
Leah was asleep on the sofa. And in the center of the living room, sitting upright in his wheelchair facing the window, was Arthur.
He turned his head as I walked in.
I knelt beside him, placing the recovered sapphire necklace gently into his good hand.
“He’s gone, Arthur,” I said softly. “He can’t hurt you anymore. Neither of them can.”
Arthur looked at the necklace. Then, with agonizing slowness, he lifted his hand and pressed it to his chest.
May you like
His tablet dinged.
“MY GIRLS.”
