Close to Home Part 17

Chapter 20.

Tessa came to as she was being dragged from the cab of the truck. Her left temple ached with a vicious throb, and when she fluttered her eyes open, even the gray light of dawn seared her retinas.

Dazed and disoriented, she stumbled at another rough tug on her wrist and blinked down at the coa.r.s.e-haired, masculine hand clamped around it. She twisted her arm and gasped when the hand tightened bruisingly hard. Shaking her head, Tessa squinted up just as an image-a memory? A hallucination?-flickered behind her eyes.

It couldn't be. She thought she'd seen ... but that didn't make sense.

Another stumble brought Tessa's weight down wrong on her ankle. The stabbing pain made her whimper but it also cleared her head.

She was outside. There were maritime pines all around, growing shorter and shorter like the ones at the water's edge, and she could hear the shush-shush of the ocean close by. A big barrel of a man with iron-gray hair straggling down to his shoulders was pulling her along behind him, his hand rough and callused around her sore wrist.

Panic rolled through her, only heightened by the wild memory emblazoned on her brain, because Tessa thought, she couldn't tell, it had been so many years and so many miles since she'd seen him, but she was almost certain that the man who'd pulled her off the street and driven her here was ...

"Dad!" she gasped when he turned his head, exposing the sharp, bladelike profile that had frightened her when she was little.

Abe Mulligan glared back at her, steely eyes dark under his bushy, graying brows. "Hurry up, Terri, quit dragging your feet. We need to go."

There was an edge in his gruff voice and a wildness in his eyes that scared adult Tessa as much as his scowl had scared her younger self. "Where are we going? What are you doing here?"

She kept putting up resistance, trying to pull free of him, but her father held her arm tightly and muscled her forward inexorably. "I'm here to get you. You need to come home, so Naomi will finally come home."

Naomi. Tessa's mother. Pulse thundering louder than the waves against the sh.o.r.eline, Tessa said, "Dad, please, stop and talk to me. What happened to Mom? Where did she go?"

But her father didn't stop. He just kept hauling her through the dew-damp cord gra.s.s, not even seeming to notice the th.o.r.n.y shrubs that scratched at his arms and whipped toward Tessa's face. "Naomi will come back to the community when you're back home. She only left because you did, it was all your fault. It was never the same after you left. I looked for you for a long time, to make her come home, but I didn't know where you went. And then Harry Cartwright brought me a newspaper from town with your picture in it, from winning some contest, and I knew what I had to do."

Tessa's breath left her as her head spun. Her father had been looking for her? And not for a happy family reunion, no matter what he said about her mother. Hysterical laughter bubbled up her throat at the irony of the fact that one of the proudest moments of her new life-winning that blue ribbon at the county fair for her scone recipe-had led to this painful, shambling run through the woods in the grip of a nightmare version of her father.

Her father had always been a hard man, rigid and uncompromising, but the man who stopped dead and loomed over her now was something else altogether. Years of loneliness, resentment, and hatred glittered in his accusing glare. She shrank back, old and instinctive fears kicking in.

"You're living wrong," her father said fiercely. "We taught you better. You know better. But here you are, living this decadent, wasteful, immoral modern life and probably loving every minute of it."

"Tell me more about Mom." Tessa couldn't allow herself to get drawn off topic. "When did she leave? Did she know I wrote to her? Did you tell her about my letters?"

"Bragging about your new life." He sneered, jerking her harshly into motion again so that she was forced to scramble after him. They came to the edge of the tall cord gra.s.s and started slip-sliding down the gravelly dirt that became sandier the closer they got to the water.

At the water's edge lay a small boat with an outboard motor. All at once, Tessa realized that her father wasn't just dragging her around with no goal-he was trying to get her to the boat. He was trying to take her off the island, and back to the commune with him so that her mother would come home again, and that was a crazy plan.

As in, it was the plan of a crazy person who wasn't thinking or behaving rationally. Which meant her father, who had always been unpredictable in terms of his moods, was scarier than he'd ever been before.

And Johnny was long gone by now. Tessa was on her own.

Struggling against the chill of that thought and the drag on her aching arm, Tessa tried again, but this time she tried playing along. "Please, Father. Let go, and I'll come with you. I'd love to see the house, and be there when Mom comes home."

He paused, suspicion in every line of his haggard face. It hurt Tessa's heart to look at him. Abe Mulligan wasn't a kind man, but he was her father. And he looked at least twenty years older than he should. Life on the commune was hard, but Tessa didn't think that was what had aged him.

"No," he decided gruffly, retightening his hold even when Tessa winced. "You're lying. They taught you to lie out here, away from the community. But I know you don't want to go back, or you would've come to see me sometime in the last eight years."

"I didn't think I'd be welcome," Tessa explained, desperation seeping into her tone as they reached the boat.

"Get in."

He threw her arm toward the boat, nearly jerking her off her feet. Tessa caught herself against the side of the small craft and gagged on the scent of rotting fish guts. "Where did you find this thing? Are you sure it's seaworthy?"

"It'll do," her father said tersely. "Get in. Now."

Looking up at him where he stood by the back of the boat, ready to shove it into the water and push away from the sh.o.r.e, Tessa experienced a moment of disbelief. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't be serious. She had to snap him out of it.

"Daddy, no. I know you don't approve but this is my life now, and I'm happy here. I'm not going with you, and I'm sorry, but it sounds to me as if Mom left a long time ago. If she's been gone that long, maybe something happened to her, or maybe there was more than one reason she left-but either way, I don't think she's coming back. Even if you drag me home."

A frightening anger built and built in her father's eyes as she spoke, the lines of his big, farmer's body going tense with rage. "Your mother is coming home, even if I have to hold you hostage there forever to make her come."

Chilled by the certainty in his voice, Tessa burrowed her hands into her jacket pockets and discovered he hadn't taken her cell phone while she was out cold. It took everything she had not to allow her sudden hope to register on her face as her fingers moved over the familiar b.u.t.tons. She could dial 911 without looking, she was pretty sure, so long as her father didn't notice what she was doing.

Keep him talking. "Why would you do that to me? What did I ever do that was so awful, except be determined to survive my childhood?"

"You deserve to be punished for destroying our family!" He pointed at her, accusatory finger trembling with rage. "Now get in the d.a.m.n boat, before I knock you out and throw you in like a sack of cornmeal."

That couldn't happen. She needed to be awake and aware to a.s.sist with her own rescue. Stepping gingerly over the side of the boat, Tessa picked her way among the stained tarps and dirty, tangled ropes and netting to huddle on the bench seat stretched across the middle of the boat. "Fine, you win. I'll go with you. Just don't hurt me."

She stealthily removed her hand from her pocket, praying that the line was open and Ivy Dawson, the dispatcher, could hear them through the layers of fabric.

"Can you at least tell me where you're taking me?" she said a little loudly.

"I told you," her father grunted, shoving the beached boat into deeper water with a splash. "Home. To the community."

"Are we going to take this boat the whole way?"

"Living in the world has made you stupid, girl." Abe climbed into the boat, kicking aside a red plastic fuel container and planting himself by the outboard motor. "Or maybe you worked too hard to forget where you came from. The community is inland. We're using this boat to get back to the mainland; from there we'll drive."

He sounded proud of his plans, and for the first time, Tessa thought about what a stretch all of this must be for him. When she was a kid, he'd refused to drive even the few miles into the nearest small town. He'd tilled the earth with a hand plow, choosing backbreaking labor over the convenience of modern farming techniques and modern farming equipment. He hated to leave home, and he hated being forced to use modern technology even more.

Yet somehow, he'd gotten himself all the way here from the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, to kidnap his own daughter. If nothing else, that told her how determined he was to see this through.

"This boat is so small," Tessa said, thinking furiously about how to give more clues to the sheriff's department. "I hope we don't have far to go in it. But I'm sure you thought of that."

Abe scowled at her, but underneath, Tessa thought he seemed pleased. "I couldn't stash the boat at the docks-too many nosy people-but we're not that far up the coast from it."

Tessa's heart pounded in her ears, loud enough to nearly drown out the roar of the motor. "So we're on the western side of the island, heading toward Winter Harbor on the mainland," she yelled, struggling to be heard as their speed increased and the wind seemed to tear the words from her lips and scatter them.

She had no idea if any of that got through to the sheriff's department. Her father hadn't seemed to hear her-all his attention was focused on the distant Virginia sh.o.r.e and the continuation of his plans to win back his wife. Or to blackmail her into coming home, whichever worked. Grimacing, Tessa glanced over his shoulder toward Sanctuary Island.

They must be about a thousand feet out already, and the island was growing smaller and smaller behind them. Tessa felt jittery and her head still throbbed with a deep ache, but she had to choose her moment.

Could she afford to wait and hope for the sheriff to show up and save her? Or should she jump ship now and swim for it before they got any deeper into the open water of the Atlantic Ocean? If she jumped, what would stop her father from turning the boat around and coming to scoop her back up? And the water splashing up the sides of the boat to wet her hands was extremely cold-how long could she last in that temperature?

As she sat in an agony of indecision, she saw the glimmer of red and blue lights flashing through the trees at the sh.o.r.eline behind them. Her heart gave a great thump and Tessa gripped the sides of the boat with chilled fingers. It was the sheriff. It had to be. Her phone call must have gone through!

In that case, she had to try. Now. She'd have backup once she was close enough to signal for help and let them know where she was. And she was a decent swimmer. She could stay afloat long enough for someone to get to her, even if she couldn't make it all the way to sh.o.r.e.

Ignoring the insistent dizziness and the pounding headache, Tessa cast a wary look at her father. He seemed to have forgotten about her already, lost in his fantasy of reuniting with his wife. For a moment, Tessa let herself experience the full weight of crushing sadness that she would never be the son her father had always wanted-and he would never be the loving father she'd longed for.

Then she forced herself to wobble up to a half crouch, holding on to the side of the boat, and said a quick prayer. Then she took a deep breath and dove into the water.

Chapter 21.

Johnny scrambled down the hill above the sh.o.r.e, his boots skidding on the loose gravelly sand. He'd never seen any sight so welcome as the sheriff's department SUV parked at an angle behind the abandoned black truck just off Sh.o.r.eline Drive.

As he'd quartered the island, searching desperately for some sign of the truck that had tried to run Tessa and him off the road, the thought that haunted Johnny's mind was ... what if he was looking in the wrong place?

When he'd noticed Angie missing, all those years ago, he'd wasted precious minutes tearing the house apart from top to bottom, and it had cost him his sister. The most precious thing in his life ... until now.

So when he'd pulled in next to the sheriff's car and followed the tracks down toward the water, Johnny had been filled with relief. Not only had he managed to find the truck, but now he'd have backup with whatever went down.

He thought he was prepared, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw when he reached the muddy edge of the sh.o.r.e and stared out across the water.

There was a boat floating in the ocean, rocked by the movement of the water, and completely empty of human life. Tessa was gone.

His heart stopped. It was his worst nightmare come to life. He staggered a few paces into the water, barely registering the frigid temperature, but a hand on his shoulder pulled him back.

"Coast Guard is coming." A tall, serious-faced woman in a tan uniform with a gold star clipped to the belt pointed past him to the large boat steaming toward the smaller craft. "She called from her phone, let us know exactly where to send them."

"My wife," Johnny gasped, the words tasting like ashes and brine. "Tessa. I think she was in that boat. Did you see what happened to her?"

"She jumped in, and the man jumped in after her. No, sir- Wait!"

But Johnny couldn't wait. He'd caught a glimpse, only a flash, of movement on the far side of the empty boat. Tessa was out there. And she wasn't alone. She needed his help.

Tearing off his jacket and shoes, Johnny waded into the water and started slicing his way toward the boat with fast, clean strokes. His shoulder muscles warmed up, loosening and propelling him through water so cold, it felt like knives against his skin. Tessa was in this water, trying to stay afloat, trying to stay warm. He pushed himself harder until he was close enough to pause, treading water, to scan the water around him.

The Coast Guard had beaten him to the boat, and they were loading a gray-haired man in sodden flannels onto their deck, but Tessa was nowhere in sight. Johnny's vision dimmed, history repeating itself in the most sickening, soul-killing way possible, but he kept looking.

And there! A flash of pale, chilled skin, a waving hand behind him, closer to sh.o.r.e. Johnny threw himself toward the person he'd spotted. When he got to where he thought she'd been, he searched the murky depths with frantic eyes but saw nothing.

Swirling his hands through the water, he dove once, twice, three times, forcing his burning eyes open ... and on the fourth dive, his fingers caught on rough fabric.

He clamped down and hauled upward with all his strength, using great, scissoring kicks to shoot them up toward the sun-dappled waves above. Breaking the surface of the water, he dragged in a breath and pulled the sodden, limp form of his wife into his arms.

Tessa's head sagged toward him, her lips a terrifying shade of blue. He kissed her, shocked at the chill of her skin.

"Come on, honey, come on," Johnny chanted as his fingers sought out her pulse. There-distinct and strong enough to make Johnny's legs momentarily go numb with relief.

He kicked them awake in time to keep him and Tessa from sinking.

"Johnny." Her lashes tickled his cheek. "You're here. What are you doing here?"

"I came to rescue you," he said, unable to stop himself from nuzzling her cheek. "But that turned out to be unnecessary, since you'd already rescued yourself. And called out the Coast Guard to capture your abductor."

"My father!" She stiffened in his arms, trying to raise her head to peer around and simultaneously nearly drowning them both.

Once Johnny got both their mouths above water once more, he said, "Your father? It was your dad who's been following us?"

She nodded miserably, tufts of wet hair sticking up all over her head and making her look like an angry owl. "He said ... Oh, Johnny, it was awful. I guess after I ran away, my mom left him? And it seemed like he blamed me for it, even though from my memories of growing up in that house, I can tell you that Mom was never happy. But still, he wanted her back. And I guess he thought that if I came home, she would, too."

"And he was willing to take you by force, if you wouldn't go with him willingly." The rage filling Johnny's chest was more buoyant than a life jacket.

She shivered against him, her legs tangling briefly with his before floating away. "I thought I was on my own, that you were gone and wouldn't be riding to the rescue this time."

"And you got yourself free and called for help." A pang shot through Johnny's belly but he forced himself to smile at her. "You're an amazing woman, Tessa Alexander. You don't need me to save you. Maybe you never did."

"I'm still glad you're here." She whispered it like a secret, like a confession torn from the depths of her soul, and Johnny wasn't too proud to clutch her close. He savored the cold rub of her nose under his ear, the hot wash of her breath against his neck.

She was alive. She was safe. And she was no longer his.

Where the h.e.l.l did they go from here?

Tessa shivered in his arms, her teeth chattering lightly, and Johnny snapped out of it. He knew exactly where Tessa was going from here-to the hospital, to get checked out.

"Sheriff," he called over Tessa's shoulder. "Can you call the paramedics?"

"Already done," the uniformed woman a.s.sured him. "They're dropping Miss Patty off at the docks to get water-taxied over to Winter Harbor General, then they're on their way here."

Tessa's fingers clutched at Johnny's shoulders. "Miss Patty! What happened?"

Johnny glared at the sheriff, who grimaced and mouthed "Sorry" before striding away to supervise her deputies as they cuffed Tessa's father and read him his rights.

"Miss Patty is going to be fine," Johnny said soothingly. "But she had a little run-in with your father while he was looking for you, and she got a b.u.mp on the head."

As if unconsciously, Tessa's hand lifted to the side of her own head, just behind her left ear. "Oh, no," she moaned, swaying against him. "This is all my fault."

Alarmed, Johnny brushed her fingers aside to explore the spot behind her ear. He found some swelling, but no blood, and said a quick silent prayer to hurry the paramedics in their direction.

"It's not your fault," he told Tessa firmly.

"How can you say that? If I had never come here, my father would never have followed me. He and Patty would never have even met, and he never would have done anything to her. Now she's hurt, maybe hurt really badly, and it's all because of me."

"First of all, Miss Patty is a tough old bird, and it's going to take more than this to slow her down. And secondly, take it from someone who's spent a lot of his life shouldering the blame for every d.a.m.n thing that happens in his vicinity-it's no way to live, honey."

"But if I'd just been home, with Patty," Tessa fretted.

"He might have hurt her anyway," Johnny pointed out. "I can't see Miss Patty sitting quietly by and letting him haul you off. Can you?"