Stranahan ordered Chemo to get out of the boat. “Carefully.”
“No shit.”
“Remember what happened last time with the “cuda.”
“So that’s what it was.” Chemo remembered seeing pictures of barracudas in sports magazines. What he remembered most were the incredible teeth. “Jesus H. Christ,” he said.
Stranahan didn’t mention that the big barracuda was long gone—off to deeper water to wait out the cold. Probably laid up in Fowey Rocks.
Chemo moved with crab-like deliberation, one gangly limb at a time. Between the rocking of the boat and the lopsided weight of his prosthesis, he found it difficult to balance on the slippery gunwale. Maggie Gonzalez came up from behind and helped boost him to the dock. Chemo looked surprised.
“Thanks,” he said.
From under the house, Stranahan’s voice: “All right, Heather, get in the boat.”
“Wait a second,” said Rudy.
“Don’t worry, she’ll be all right.”
“Heather, don’t!” Rudy was thinking about that night in the fireplace, and that morning in the shower. And about Costa Rica.
“Hands off,” said Heather, stepping into the boat.
By now Christina Marks had figured out the plan. She said, “Mick, I want to stay.”
“Ah, you changed your mind.”
“What—”
“You want to get married after all?”
The words hung in the night like the mischievous cry of a gull. Then, from under the stilt house, laughter. “Everything’s just a story to you,” Stranahan said. “Even me.”
Christina said, “That’s not true.” No one seemed particularly moved by her sincerity.
“Don’t worry about it,” Stranahan said. “I’ll still love you, no matter what.”
Rudy cautiously got to his feet and stood next to Chemo. In the flickering lantern glow, Chemo looked more waxen than ever. He seemed hypnotized, his puffy blowfish eyes fixed on the surging murky waves.
Heather said, “Should I untie the boat now?”
“Not just yet,” Stranahan called back. “Check Maggie’s jacket, would you?”
Maggie Gonzalez was wearing a man’s navy pea jacket. When Heather reached for the pockets, Maggie pushed her away.
There was a metallic clunking noise under the house: Stranahan, emerging from his sniper hole. Quickly he clambered out of the aluminum skiff, over the top of the water tank, pulling himself one-handed to the deck of the house. His visitors got a good long look at the Remington.
“Maggie, be a good girl,” Stranahan said. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Christina took one side of the coat and Heather took the other. “Keys,” Christina announced, holding them up for Stranahan to see. One was a tiny silver luggage key, the other was from a room at the Holiday Inn.
Chemo blinked sullenly and patted at his pants. “Jesus H. Christ,” he said. “The bitch picked my pockets.”
He couldn’t believe it: Maggie had lifted the keys while helping him out of the boat! She planned to sneak back to the motel and steal all the money.
“I know how you feel,” Stranahan said to Chemo. He reached into the boat and plucked the keys from Christina’s hand. He put them in the front pocket of his jeans.
“What now?” Rudy whined, to anyone who might have a clue.
Chemo’s right hand crept to his left armpit and found the toggle switch for the battery pack. The Weed Whacker buzzed, stalled once, then came to life.
Stranahan said, “I’m impressed, I admit it.” He aimed the Remington at Chemo’s head and told him not to move.
Chemo paid no attention. He took two giraffe-like steps across the dock and, with a vengeful groan, dove into the stern of the boat after Maggie. They all went down in a noisy tangle—Chemo, Maggie, Heather and Christina—the boat listing precariously against the pilings.
Mick Stranahan and Rudy Graveline watched the melee from the lower deck of the stilt house. One woman’s scream, piercing and feline, rose above the uproar.
“Do something!” the doctor cried.
“All right,” said Stranahan.
Later, Stranahan gathered all the lanterns and brought them inside. Rudy Graveline lay in his undershorts on the bed; he was handcuffed spread-eagle to the bedposts. Chemo was unconscious on the bare floor, folded into a corner. With the shutters latched, the lanterns made the bedroom as bright as a television studio.