Deadly Pursuit

16

Jack’s anxiety had passed, leaving him composed and controlled, by the time Steve stepped onto the patio.

“Ready to go?” Steve asked brightly.

“Sure. As soon as I climb into my suit. Your suit, I mean.”

“I left one in the bathroom, on the towel rack.”

“Be right with you.”

Jack pulled on a pair of red-white-and-blue trunks, concealing the knife, with the blade safely retracted, under the elastic waistband.

It was the same knife he had brought with him to the island on those summer days nearly two decades ago, and now it would slash Steve’s throat. The thought made his stomach clench.

He cooled his face with a damp towel again, then emerged from the bathroom and found the Gardners waiting wordlessly in the foyer. The tension between them was obvious. Kirstie must have been trying to warn her husband not to go, but he hadn’t listened. Part of Jack-a very small part-almost wished he had.

“Suit fit all right?” Steve asked.

“Perfect.”

“All set, then.” A clap of hands. “On the attack-Jack!”

Jack’s smile covered his wince as he echoed the clap. “Ready to go-Steve-o!”

It was a ritual from their high-school days, pleasantly goofy then, painful now. It brought back memories of better times. Unwanted memories.

He followed Steve and Kirstie out the door, then along the flagstone path to the dock. Together he and Steve climbed down the ladder and boarded the motorboat. Kirstie threw off the mooring line.

“Have a good time,” she called, her voice neutral, eyes guarded. She fixed her gaze on Steve and added, “Be careful.”

Steve returned the stare complacently. “Always am.” He settled into the stern and fumbled with the starter cord, smiling at Jack. “Great day, isn’t it? Just like summertime when we were seventeen.”

Jack looked at the blue sweep of sky, the turquoise water, the dancing spangles of sun. His answer, low and bitter, was swallowed by a ripping cough of sound as the outboard motor revved to life.

“Yeah, Steve-o. It’s a perfect day.”

He touched his waistband, felt the shape of the knife.

Throttling back, Steve guided the boat away from the dock, heading east, toward the reef.

Jack looked back once and saw Kirstie still standing at the end of the dock, her hair blown in the wind, her arm cutting the sky in a long, sweeping wave.