And if not…he had to take the chance anyway.
Slowly, crouching low, he started to move in that direction. He crept with all the silence he could manage and with the cover of a growing wind.
There she was, seeking shelter under the bar of the Tiki Hut. A good choice.
Still, he didn’t show himself. She would scream, run, perhaps make it to the lagoons, and with her animals certain she was in danger, they would protect her once again. They were powerful animals, and knew their power. They could be lethal, taking a man to the bottom of a pool, keeping him there.
He moved very, very slowly. Then froze.
There was a sound from the brush nearby.
A bullet exploded, the sound loud even against the howl of nature.
David made a dive, crashing down against Alex and clasping a hand over her mouth before she could scream.
She panicked, tried to fight him. “Shh, Alex, it’s me. You have to trust me,” he mouthed as her eyes, luminous and huge, met his. She remained as tense as a stretched rubber band, staring at him.
Then another shot sounded in the night. He felt her flinch, but he couldn’t release her mouth nor so much as shift his weight. If she drew attention to them now…
Forcing his weight hard against her, his hand still pressed against her mouth, David remained dead still. Listening. Waiting. It was so difficult to hear over the storm, to separate the natural moan, bend and rustle of the foliage from the sounds that were man-made.
He waited.
Then…yes. Someone was going off down one of the paths. He could hear the barely perceptible sound of receding footsteps.
He eased his hand off Alex’s mouth. She inhaled fiercely, staring at him with doubt and fury and fear.
“Please, Alex,” he begged. “Trust me.”
Her lashes fell. “Trust you?” she whispered. “What about John Seymore? Did you kill him?”
She sounded cold, almost as if she were asking a question that didn’t concern her.
“No.”
“So you’re not the killer? He’s not the killer?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?” she said, her voice rising.
He clamped a hand over her mouth again. “Shh.”
She stared up at him with eyes of pure fire. He eased his hand away again. “Damn you, Alex, I love you. I’d die before I’d cause you any harm. Don’t you know that about me?”
Her lashes fell again. “Actually, it’s hard to know anything about you,” she said.
That was when the lightning flashed. Struck. The boom of thunder was instantaneous, as the top of the Tiki Hut burst into flames.
For split seconds, they were both stunned.
Then David made it to his feet, seizing her hand, dragging her up. “We’ve got to move!” he urged. With out waiting for her assent, he dragged her quickly through the debris of branches and foliage that now littered the floor.
They headed down the trail toward the cottages as the rain began to pelt them.
“Where are we going?” Alex gasped, pulling back. “Our cottages are the first place anyone would look.”
He didn’t answer; the night had grown so dark again that he was barely able to make his way through the trails. All his concentration was on finding their way.
“David?”
“Shh.”
He longed to pause, to listen.
He dared not.
Moments later, they reached the cottage where he had delivered Ally Conroy the night before. The door was closed, but when he set his hand on the knob and turned, David found it unlocked.
Then he paused at last.
Seymore could have been lying. The guy was military, experienced. He could kill them all off, one by one. He would never be found. Before relief crews could make it to the island, he could head out, move Alicia Farr’s body once again, then disappear. He would know how to do that.
Gut instinct.
And no choice.
David opened the door.
Chapter 12
Alex blinked, colliding with David’s back as he entered the cottage, then stopped dead.
She peered past him.
The darkness was broken by the thin beam of a flashlight in the kitchen area of the cottage.
They heard the click of a trigger, and a face appeared in the pale light.
John Seymore.
For a moment his features were as macabre as the eeriest Halloween mask. And for a moment she and David were as frozen as ice.
John Seymore took his finger off the trigger, shoving the gun back into his belt. “Alex. You’re all right,” he breathed.
“Yes,” she said stiffly.
“Where’s Len?” David asked.
“I’ve got him on the floor in the kitchen. I cleaned the wound. He’s got a concussion, I’m sure. There’s nothing else I can do for him now,” John said.
“He’s alive?” Alex breathed.
“Barely. His only chance is for us to get him across to medical care the minute we can,” John said.