Part 23 (1/2)
”Jed?” Amy's attention had swung from Rosie's announcement to Jed. ”What's the matter?”
He turned back to her, aware that he looked and sounded considerably different than he had a moment before. He could see the concern in her eyes change to wariness. He got to his feet with a decisive movement. ”I think I can handle this slower stuff. Let's try another dance, honey.”
He saw the confusion in her face, but she didn't argue with him. Without a word she followed him back out onto the dance floor. Jed took her into his arms, his eyes on Guthrie as the man wove through the crowd.
”I want you to stay here with Hank and Rosie, understand? And I don't want you dancing with Renner while I'm gone.”
”Gone where?” she demanded.
”I'm going to follow Guthrie.”
”But why?”
”I'm not sure. Curiosity, I guess.”
”Curiosity? What kind of an answer is that, for heaven's sake?”
”The only one I've got at the moment. Follow my lead when I take you back to the table.”
”But Jed-” Amy's protest was short-lived. He was already leading her back to their table.
”Amy just remembered she needs something she left in the Jeep. I'm going to run down to the dock and get it for her. Be back in a few minutes. Keep an eye on her for me, will you?” He nodded at Hank.
”Heck, we'll watch her. Wouldn't be the first time we've baby-sat Amy.” Hank returned the nod in a relaxed fas.h.i.+on.
”I'll be right back. Amy, remember what I said about not dancing with Renner.”
”Ah, you never let me have any fun.”
Beneath the sa.s.sy words, Jed heard her underlying worry. She was sitting tensely, her fingers wrapped too tightly around the stem of her winegla.s.s. He couldn't do anything about either the tension or the worry, not at the moment. He lightly touched the bare curve of her shoulder and then left.
The lounge was dark and full of people who were determined to enjoy themselves. Weaving a path between the crowded tables, Jed managed to make his way to the door just as the band went into a cla.s.sic rock tune. The glittering vocalist struck a pose reminiscent of the early Elvis Presley and began belting out a familiar song. Amy would undoubtedly recognize it, Jed decided as he stepped out on deck.
There was no sign of Guthrie at first. Jed stood quietly in the shadows, letting his eyes adjust to the change in light. There was a pool at the far end of the deck and beyond that a quiet indoor seating area.
As Jed watched he saw a person who could have been Guthrie open the door to the other public room and disappear inside.
There was a second set of elevators at that end of the s.h.i.+p, Jed remembered. It would be easy for Guthrie to make his way down through the decks until he reached the one which had access to the dock.
From there he could leave the s.h.i.+p. If he was planning to leave the s.h.i.+p.
Jed moved swiftly to follow. Guthrie sure as h.e.l.l wasn't heading for the rest rooms. Jed thought of Renner dancing back in the lounge with the blonde Amy hadn't liked. Rosie's words kept flickering on and off in his mind like a faulty neon light. Renner reminded her of Michael Wyman.
There were two facts that had to be put into the equation. The first was that Wyman was dead. The second was that even if he were alive, he would be considerably older than Dan Renner. But the implications were fascinating.
Deciding to concentrate on the task at hand and worry about sorting through implications later, Jed stepped into the elevator and punched the b.u.t.ton for the exit deck. Guthrie had used the other elevator.
Jed figured he shouldn't be more than a few seconds behind him.
He was right. He stepped out of the elevator in time to see Guthrie saunter through the open hatch and take the gangway down to the dock. A group of tourists returning from the island got between Jed and Guthrie for a moment. When the crowd had cleared, Guthrie was almost to the end of the dock. From there he could walk the few blocks to his room at Hank and Rosie's. Jed found the shadows he needed and fell into step behind his quarry. Guthrie never once looked back.
Then again, why should he? Jed wondered as he remained a discreet distance behind the other man.
Maybe Guthrie simply didn't like dancing. Maybe he was bored with Ren-ner's company. Maybe he'd developed a headache. There were a lot of innocent explanations for Guthrie's decision to leave the s.h.i.+p.
There were also a few not-so-innocent reasons why Guthrie might want to leave. Jed speculated on where Guthrie had been that afternoon while he and Amy had been diving the bomber wreck. Perhaps Guthrie had spent the time letting himself into the Slater home without an invitation.
Guthrie took an unexpected turn to the right, one that led up the short hill from the waterfront toward a jumble of weathered buildings and narrow, tangled alleys. Jed had seen this section of the small town earlier in the day and knew it wasn't Orleana's residential section. Some of the tin-roofed structures had obviously been around since the military had run its refueling depot there. A few were still used as storage sheds, but many were vacant. The narrow streets had once been paved but no one had bothered to keep up the tradition. There were more potholes than pavement, and nothing resembling a sidewalk.
There was also nothing resembling a street light. Orleana wasn't big on such amenities.
Curiouser and curiouser. Figuring out what sort of business Guthrie might have in this part of town made for an interesting puzzle. This certainly wasn't the direct route back to Hank and Rosie's.
Guthrie turned another corner, slipping down a narrow path between two metal sheds. The faint moonlight spotlighted him for an instant and then he was lost in the darkness. Jed listened intently, hearing the small, distant crunch of gravel. Guthrie wasn't making any effort to conceal his movements.
Jed, on the other hand, was doing his best to conceal his own presence, but the effort it took was virtually second nature. He was aware of his own caution but he didn't have to work at it very hard; it came naturally. His soft-soled shoes made no noise on the uneven path. He paused before crossing in front of a screen door that was swinging wide on rusty hinges. Deep gloom hovered behind the old door. The distant sound of laughter from the waterfront floated up the hill on the soft, balmy air.
Jed felt the silent chill that stirred every hair on the back of his neck a split second before he felt the faint change in the air behind him. He swung around instantly, prepared to let the movement carry him all the way to the ground if necessary.
The man came out of the narrow alley between two buildings, the knife held low and ready for a gut-opening thrust.
Jed barely had time to realize his attacker was not Guthrie before he let the momentum of his own turn carry him down and to the right.
The knife ripped at him as he fell, slas.h.i.+ng his left arm. Jed knew he'd been cut, but the rush of adrenaline blotted out the pain before it even got started. The luxury of pain would come later, when there was time to concentrate on it. Jed grabbed for the man's leg as he lunged to the side.
The knife came around in an arc that was designed to end in Jed's neck. The a.s.sailant swore as he felt himself being tumbled off balance. Jed hit the ground and rolled, carrying the man with him.
There was a soft, m.u.f.fled cry of rage from the a.s.sailant and then Jed was on top of him, driving a hand full of stiffened fingers into the vulnerable places of his neck and upper lip. The man shrieked with agony and then there was silence.
Jed sat up slowly, trying to see his victim's face in the shadows. Then he felt the wetness of his arm and clamped a hand over the wound in his shoulder. Blood welled between his fingers. Jed glanced down at the wound and sighed.
Amy would undoubtedly fuss.
Chapter Thirteen.
Amy did more than fuss. She lost her temper. The moment the waiter approached the table to announce politely that she was being paged by someone ash.o.r.e, Amy knew there was trouble. When she discovered the message was from Dr. Stearn she rounded on Hank and Rosie.
”I knew I should never have let him go off by himself like that!”
”Who? Dr. Stearn?” Rosie watched as Amy frantically searched her purse to find money for the last round of drinks. Amy had insisted it was her turn to buy.
”Not Dr. Stearn.” Amy dropped the bills on the table. ”Jed.”
Hank was helping Rosie to her feet, preparing to follow Amy. ”But the message was from Stearn.”
”Which,” Amy pointed out with grim logic, ”can only mean he's got Jed in his office, and since the message wasn't from Jed, I have to a.s.sume Jed's gone and done something stupid again.”