Page 230 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

Shayna scowled and jerked Becca to her feet. She shoved her toward the door, and Becca stumbled and fell.

“It’s going to be hard to walk all tied up. Can you tie my hands in front instead of in back?”

“Nice try. Get moving.” Shayna jerked her to her feet and shoved her again.

Becca walked slowly through the rubble. Once outside, she intended to run for the house and yell for all she was worth.

As if she read her mind, Shayna jerked her back. “Wait a minute. She whipped a scarf out of her pocket and stuffed it in Becca’s mouth.

Becca tried to spit it out, but it was wedged too tightly. Despair tightened her chest, but she pushed it away. She could still run. Walking out into the forest, she glanced around for the best route.

The trees crowded in so thickly, it would be almost impossible to outrun Shayna. And the other woman kept a tight hand on Becca’s arm.

Shayna marched her through the trees toward the little inlet that circled around the back of Windigo Manor’s property. If Becca was going to break free, she needed to do it now.

She pretended to stumble then wrenched her arm from Shayna’s grasp. Free of the restraining grip, she dashed back the way they’d come, zigzagging through the trees.

She heard Shayna shout then rush after her. Desperation gave wings to her feet, and the breath came harsh in her lungs. She thought she was gaining ground then she was tackled from behind.

Shayna’s weight bore her to the ground, and the shock of hitting the unforgiving earth stole the breath from her lungs.

“Get up.” The rage in Shayna’s voice rendered her tone almost unrecognizable. “If you run again, I’ll shoot you.”

Becca recognized the deadly intent in the other woman’s voice. Shayna dragged her to her feet and shoved her back toward the Cay. As they approached the beach, she heard the sound of a motor coming. Nick was at the helm of a small motorboat. He waved and guided the boat in close to shore.

Shayna yanked on Becca’s arm again, and they both splashed into the water to the boat. The shock of Superior’s icy water made Becca gasp.

“Cold, isn’t it?” Shayna asked grimly. “The hypothermia will kill you in ten minutes.”

Nick dragged her over the side of the boat, and she fell onto the bottom of the boat. He helped Shayna board the boat as well then revved up the motor and pointed the boat’s bow toward the open water.

“Take her far out,” Shayna hollered over the boat’s motor.

Nick nodded. The cold spray struck Becca in the face. There was nowhere for her to go. If she jumped overboard, Superior’s icy grip would just claim her sooner.

As she lay on the bottom of the boat, her necklace caught on an oar. She jerked her head to free it, but it broke instead and lay coiled on the bottom of the boat.

Fifteen minutes later Nick throttled back the motor. “This is as good a spot as any.”

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a knife. The cold blade touched Becca’s wrists then the bonds holding her fell away. Nick pulled her to her feet. “Sorry it has to end this way, Becca. I liked you.”

“Get it over with,” Shayna snapped.

For a minute Becca thought maybe Nick couldn’t do it, then he shoved her. Caught offguard, she flailed to keep her balance, but it was no use, and she plunged overboard. The cold waterclosed over her head and nearly numbed her. She fought the water’s icy grip, then her head broke the surface. She gasped in a breath.

“So long, Becca. It’s been nice knowing you.” Nick revved up the motor once again, and the boat zoomed away.

Becca wanted to shout after them, but she knew it was a waste of her lung power. She tread water a moment, praying for guidance. She wasn’t done yet.

She glanced around at the horizon. Nothing but water. Then she spied a tiny glimpse of land to the north. Gull Island. She’d forgotten about the tiny speck of land. Unpopulated, it was hardly more than twenty feet in circumference. During rainy periods, it was totally submerged, but the summer had been dry. It might be her salvation.

She knew it was a long shot. The cold would kill her long before she ever reached it, but she had to try. Striking out strongly, she began to swim toward it. At first her movements were strong and sure, but the water’s cold grip began to slow her down, make her sluggish. Her thoughts began to jumble as hypothermia dulled her senses.

Kick, stroke, kick.

She repeated the mantra to herself. It seemed she swam forever. The water kept breaking over her head as the cold tried to claim her. She struggled on, a faint prayer still echoing in her head. Her mouth and nose went under again, and she came up sputtering. Then her knees hit sand, and she realized the island was right in front her. A sandbar ran around the perimeter about a quarter of a mile from the actual shore.

The swim had to have taken at least half an hour. God had to have done this. She could never have made it in her own strength.

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