Nevada Barr - A Superior Death

The customized Evinrude engine that propelled the small boat was housed in an engine box to the rear of the stern deck. Anna turned the butterfly nuts and lifted back the cover. Though it was of higher caliber and horsepower, the engine was much the same as the twin engines on the Bertram. Black spark plug wires popped up to meet her grasp. With a jerk, she pulled them loose and dropped them overboard.

The engine coughed once and died. In the ensuing silence Anna felt naked, exposed. At any moment Patience would come out on deck to see why the engine had failed.

Bent double to avoid the windows, Anna stepped across the narrow deck. Bracing one shoulder against the cabin wall on the port side where the opening door would help shield her, she waited with the aluminum spray nozzle held in what she sincerely hoped was a sufficiently fierce and businesslike grip to discourage close inspection.

Surrounded by an insulating blanket of fog, the sounds from the cabin were at the same time very clear and quite unreal, as if they were happening inside Anna’s skull. Muffled clicks: Patience trying the key. Muttered words as there was no answering surge from the engine. Dull thumps: Patience closing the choke, shutting down the throttle, turning off the ignition in preparation for coming to check the engine. More murmurings: probably instructions to Carrie Ann.

Anna tensed, then forced herself to relax, to clear her mind. A shadow across the window, then the cabin door opened with a bang. Looking neither right nor left, Patience made a beeline for the engine.

Anna reached out, caught the door, and quietly closed it. Moving her body to block it, she wedged one rubber heel against the wood.

“Stop where you are,” she said softly.

Throwing up her hands and collapsing to her knees like an old-time revivalist, Patience screamed: “My Lord!” She pressed her hands theatrically over her heart, but such was the shock registered on her face, Anna guessed the gesture was unplanned.

“Stay on your knees and turn around,” Anna said evenly. “Face the stern.” She held the spray nozzle in two hands, her arms extended from her body, elbows locked. “Do it.”

Patience turned all but her head. Chin on shoulder, she continued to stare back at Anna. The initial shock was wearing off. Anna could see thought and sense rushing back behind her eyes, unlocking the stony set of her facial muscles. “Face away,” Anna commanded. “Eyes on the engine box. Do it.”

Patience faced away.

“Lie down slowly on your stomach,” Anna ordered.

“Mom!”

The door hit Anna’s back and she wedged her heel more firmly against it to keep it closed.

“Mom!”

The distraction was giving Patience courage. Anna could see it in the restless twitch of her arms and legs. “Don’t even think about it, Patience. What with one thing and another, my nerves have been pretty much shot to hell today. Killing you is a real possibility.

“Carrie Ann,” Anna called without taking her eyes off where Patience Bittner sprawled. “Carrie Ann, this is Anna Pigeon. Stay away from the door. Stay quiet.”

“Mom!” Carrie hollered again and rattled the door.

“Sit down and shut up!” Anna barked. Silence from within except for a snuffling sound that could have been either shuffling feet or adenoidal aggrievement.

“Face down,” Anna reminded Patience.

There was nothing with which to secure her prisoner but the dive line stowed near Patience’s right hand. In close quarters Anna didn’t care to wade into the midst of the other woman to retrieve it.

“Reach out with your right hand, Patience. Do it slowly. Good. Take hold of the dive line and pull it slowly into the middle of your back.”

With a short growl that telegraphed her intentions, Patience’s fist closed round the coiled line. Twisting like a stepped-on snake, she rolled and flung the line at Anna’s face.

Instinct and training held Anna steady. Her finger squeezed the trigger. A trickle of foam dripped from the nozzle. Her own playacting had caught her up. The instant was enough. Patience pulled the fish gaff free of its clamps and sprang to her feet.

“Jump, Anna,” she said. “Jump. Maybe you’ll make it. I hope you’ll make it. Jump.” Slashing at Anna with a power born of desperation and adrenaline, she lunged.

There was nowhere to go but back into the black water, and Anna held her ground. The gaff was sharp. Anna felt it cutting through the dive suit, catching the flesh of her breasts, ripping. She saw it come free on the other side.

There was no time to wonder if she’d been badly hurt. Her hand shot after the shaft before Patience could make another swing. Fingers closing around the wood, Anna jerked hard but Patience kept her footing, kept her hold on the gaff. Blond hair fell wild around her face and her jaw was set like a bulldog’s.

“Mexican standoff,” Anna said reasonably, holding tight to her end of the long staff. “Eight or ten hours and it will be light. Somebody will come along. The ranger always gets to win. Why don’t we stop now? Save ourselves a miserable night?”

Patience was not lulled, convinced, or amused. “You won’t last till daylight, Anna. I will. You’re hurt. I hurt you. You’re sick. The bends. Maybe an embolism. I can see it in your face. Your lungs are filling up with blood. Blood is pouring from where the boat hook got you. You’ll be dead long before the sun comes up and I’ll still be here.”

“Okay,” Anna agreed. “Then I haven’t got all night.” Hand over hand she began working her way down the wooden handle. “How about this then: I’m taller, stronger, outweigh you by ten pounds and am really pissed off?”

Anna’s hand reached Patience’s. The other woman gripped the haft of the fish gaff more tightly but the battle for that was over. Laying one hand across Patience’s wrist, Anna began to peel her thumb off the wood in what must have seemed a childish gesture until the pain set in. By the time Patience realized what was happening agony had become paralysis. Pain has a way of taking the place of thought. Finally, like the animals humans pretend to be above, people will do anything to get away from it.

“Down,” Anna suggested, pushing Patience’s thumb back toward her wrist. “Lie down.”

Patience complied.

“Stay still. Soon it will be over. Stay still.” Anna looped the dive line around Patience’s slender wrists and pulled the plastic rope tight. The rope would bite deep, perhaps cut off the blood to her prisoner’s hands. To cripple the graceful little woman would be a shame.

“Not a crying shame,” Anna said aloud. The meaningless words scared her. Her mind was not in top working order, her vision was fogged. Knowing her condition was worsening, she tied Patience’s slim ankles together and anchored the woman to both the stern and midship cleats so she couldn’t wriggle around the deck.

“Carrie Ann!” Patience yelled. “Come out, honey.”

“Stay put,” Anna ordered.

No sound came from within the cabin.

“Smash the radio,” Patience screamed.

“Jesus!” Anna jerked at the door.

“I’ll get you your own phone,” Patience cried. Immediately there followed the sound of electronic equipment being pulverized. Patience laughed. “It’s an unnatural mother who does not know her own offspring.”

Dizziness took Anna then. She put her back against the cabin door and allowed herself to slide down till her butt met the deck. For an instant she thought her clarity of vision was returning but realized it was the fog, the real fog, the fog outside her brain. It was lifting.

“You’re dying,” Patience said. “Drowning in your own blood. You’re dizzy, aren’t you? Eyes playing tricks?”