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Chapter 5

Charlie ran to the window and pulled back the dark drape. Rain battered the glass, the wind causing it to shake in its sill so forcefully, she thought the entire casement would blow away. She unlocked the latch and tried pulling it up, but it was stuck, the wood swollen with water and salt after years of disuse. She looked around the room for something to pry it open with but found nothing. His wardrobe stood off to the side. She opened it and found it practically empty. A few shirts hung from hangers along with the black suit he wore the other night. The drawers on the inside were the same. She opened a drawer on the bottom. It was filled with rolled canvases and drawing paper, their colors dark and yellowed with age, indicating the passage of time. She unrolled the first one, then another, her hands shaking. Jesus Christ. They were masterpieces from some of the most notable symbolist artists, Gustave Courbet, Egon Schiele and Odilon Redon to name a few. What was this man doing with them in a small croft in Scotland? Next to the paintings and sketches, was a box containing charcoal pencils and a sharpening tool. She grabbed the metal tool and took it to the window, sliding the flat edge under the bottom and prying it up. The rain splashed in, creating a puddle on the floor. Her boots and coat were in the other room. It didn't matter; she needed to leave now. She climbed through the window and landed on the other side, the long grass surprisingly soft under her feet. She was free.

The wind and rain were torrential, and she was soaked almost immediately. Lightning flashed in the distance, followed by the low rumble of thunder, illuminating the dark and menacing clouds overhead. She made her way to the cliffs and followed a path up the coastline. The waves crashed against the rocks, the salt from the sea water mixing with the rain, coating her skin. The light from the house faded quickly in the distance. And with it, any feeling of existence. She was truly lost and alone now. She needed to hurry. He would find her gone soon enough. The wind screamed in her ears, buffeting her body as she fought against its howling gusts. The moorland underneath her feet turned to bog, and it squished between her toes as large puddles began to form. At one point her foot disappeared up to her ankle in the mucky sludge and she tripped, landing hard on her knees. Her head and shoulders hung over the steep rocky side, the ocean churning far below her. She pushed herself up, releasing her foot, and started to run. For every step forward, she felt the storm push her two steps back. It continued, until the cliff path she was on started to descend. Her feet were frozen and the heavy wool sweater she wore was sodden, but she couldn't stop. The path eventually evened out onto sand, the wind whipping it in her face in stinging shards. Up ahead, she could make out the light from a croft and she could hear the halyards slapping the mast of a ship as it swayed with the storm currents.

The house was set back in a small inlet and a sea wall had been erected at the entrance to create a small harbor. The sailboat sat in the calmer waters, tied to a wooden dock. She ran to it. It had seen better days and the teak wood trim was gray from time and the elements. She stepped onto the deck and into the hull. The wooden slated door that made up the companionway, thank God, wasn't locked. She slid back the hood far enough to remove two of the slates and squeezed through the opening, feeling for the ladder with her foot, which took her into the cabin. It was a relief to be out of the wind and rain. The skin on her face felt burned and stung from the salt that crusted it. She replaced the slates and closed the hood, sealing herself in. It was pitch black and she let her eyes become accustomed to the space around her. She did it. She was on the boat. It was too dangerous to sail tonight, but as soon as the storm passed and the sun began to rise, she would leave. As the adrenaline left her body and her heart rate evened out, she started to shiver. She needed to get out of her wet clothes or she would freeze to death. The cabin was small; she could make out a galley to her starboard side and a navigation table to her port side. She ran her hand over the navigation table and into a side cubby, finding a flashlight. She switched it on quickly to look around. There were blankets in the v-berth. She pulled the wet sweater over her head and peeled off her jeans, wrapping herself in one. In a small closet, she found a set of foul weather gear and an old fisherman's sweater. She put the sweater on along with the bibbed trousers and jacket, thankful for the warmth they offered. Then she turned off the light, so no one would see it shining through the windows, and crawled into the makeshift bed in the bow, covering herself in the blankets. The wind continued to howl and shake the boat as the waves crashed along the sea wall. She must have dozed for a bit but was awakened from shouts carrying on the wind.

"Charlotte." She heard her name called. She sat up and listened.

"Charlotte." She heard it again. He had found her. The shouting was getting closer. She knew boats, and most of them had storage spaces underneath the seats. She took the jacket and trousers off and hung them back up in the closet then made her way to the athwartships berths. They were small and located on either side of the cockpit. She lifted the cushion and lid on the port side and found it empty except for a few life vests. She crawled in and curled in a ball, letting the lid and cushion close down on top of her. She heard the voices and felt the sway of the boat as it was boarded.

"Ye cannae think she would be daft enough to get on the boat," she heard the old man say.

"I would hope not, but this was the way she was headed, and she wasn't at your house," Sinclair yelled over the squall. "Do you mind if we check? I feel bad enough we had the row. I regret what I said to her. I hate to think of her out here."

"Aye, it's nae trouble."

She listened, tears flowing down her cheeks, as the hood was slid back and the slates were taken out of the entranceway. The boat rocked back and forth from their weight as they came down the ladder. A light was turned on. "She's nae here," Jock said.

"Are you sure nothing's been moved."

She covered her mouth with her hand to quiet her breathing. Her wet clothes were on the bottom of the closet. If they found them, they would know she was hiding. Doors were opened and closed, and footsteps could be heard walking back and forth.

"Nae, lad, it's how I left it."

"I appreciate you checking. If you don't mind, I'll stop round in the morning to look again."

"Be my guest. I'll be leaving early to hunt for the shoals."

The slates were replaced, and the hood shut. Charlie took a deep breath and blew on her shaking hands. Now she just had to wait for the sun to come up. She decided it was safer to stay in her hiding place for the time being.

She awoke in the early morning hours to the feel of the boat shifting to the side. The hood was thrown back. "Ye can come oot noo, lassie," Jock said. "He's gone."

The lid flipped up on the storage unit and she stared into a wrinkled and weathered face with sparkling blue eyes.

She sat up. "Will you help me?" she cried. "Please help me. I was abducted."

"Aye, I will. Come oot and get something warm to drink. Ye'll be frozen."

She stood up and realized she was just in her underwear and his sweater. He went to the closet and pulled out the foul weather trousers and handed them to her, then he picked up her wet clothes and wrung them out in the small sink in the galley. She slipped the trousers on and pulled the straps over her shoulders, stepping out of the storage compartment. He handed her a cup of tea.

The sun was just beginning to crest on the horizon. The sky was painted pink and purple after the storm. The shrill sound of the gulls' cries sounded hollow in the distance as they awakened to the coming dawn.

"He's a mite bit worried about ye," Jock said, sitting down and sipping his own tea. He wasn't a big man but had the appearance of being strong. Forged from the sea, years in the making, as if he and the ocean were one. His head was bald and his cheery face clean shaven.

"He took me."

"Aye, he said as much. He ken you were in danger and ken you wouldnae come with him willingly." He stared into her eyes.

She wasn't sure how much to tell this man. For all she knew, they could be working together. He didn't seem too concerned.

"I need to get to Edinburgh." She needed to go to the police, but something in her told her to put as much distance between her and her abductor first.

"Aye, ye'll nae be from around here," he said, still studying her.

"No, I'm far from home." She took a sip of the tea, thankful for the warmth. "Where are we exactly?"

"Caithness. The northern most point of mainland Scotland."

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