Carolyn Keene - Hit and Run Holiday

The deck was deserted, but Nancy wasn’t taking any chances. Still on her stomach, she elbowed her way to the other side and peered over the rail toward the island. Several bonfires had already been started on the beach, and in the glow, Nancy could see a single speedboat heading for the shore. Two others were already tied up just off the beach. The one she was watching must be the last, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before the Rosita would take off with its human cargo. She had to get her hands on one of those launches, and that meant she had to get to the island—unseen.

Nancy heard a cough, and looking down, saw the florist pacing the deck below. She scrambled back to the far rail and waited to see if he was going to patrol the other side too. As she looked out over the water, it suddenly occurred to her that she could swim to the island. It wasn’t too far away, and once she got there, she could steal one of the speedboats and zip back to the Rosita . She wished she could tell the others to be ready and waiting for her, but she couldn’t take the chance of going back down to the hold. She told herself that if the Rosita took off before she got back to it, she’d head for Fort Lauderdale and get the police. But she didn’t think she’d have to do that. Nancy figured that Lila would need at least half an hour to make sure the island party was going strong before she returned to the Rosita .

You can do it, Nancy thought. You have to do it, so don’t waste any more time. She got to her knees and looked over the rail, checking to make sure the lower deck was clear. No one was in sight, so Nancy stood up and put her foot on the top rail, gripping it with her toes. She brought her other foot up, found her balance, and slowly straightened to her full height. The water was at least twenty feet below her. Don’t think about it, she told herself, just do it.

Nancy raised her arms above her head and pushed out and off the rail, diving headfirst into the dark waters of the Atlantic.

The ocean hit her like a cold slap in the face, and it seemed as if she sank forever before she was able to start pulling herself up. Finally, though, she broke the surface. Gasping, she tossed her hair out of her face and then pulled herself toward the Rosita ’s stern with strong, steady strokes.

When Nancy reached it, she stopped, treading water. The rail lights and the glow from the bonfires sent a faint path of light along the water, and in that path, about fifteen feet away, Nancy saw a dark triangular shape gliding smoothly through the waves. She wiped her eyes again and blinked, trying to tell herself that she was seeing things.

But she wasn’t. The black triangle was a shark’s fin, and as Nancy watched, frozen, she saw it swerve sharply and begin to slice through the water, heading straight for her.

Chapter Fifteen

Nancy felt panic wash over her, colder than the water lapping at her throat. She’d done her share of detective work, but she’d never had to deal with a shark before, and she didn’t want to start then.

The shark was swimming closer. Nancy clamped her lips together, forcing back the scream that was threatening to break loose. It would surely attract attention, either the shark’s or Lila’s, and Nancy wasn’t sure which would be worse.

For several minutes, Nancy treaded water, deciding to wait until the shark did whatever it was going to do. But she had no idea what it was going to do, and it probably didn’t either, so what was the point? Besides, waiting was just too scary. She had to move or that scream was going to escape her lips.

Not wanting to make any waves, Nancy used just her arms to pull herself smoothly toward the shore. After a moment, she realized she didn’t know where the shark was anymore—in front of her, behind her, or below her. Somehow, not knowing was more frightening than knowing, and for a while she kept looking around, trying to locate the telltale fin. But after a few minutes, she simply concentrated on getting ashore. The shark’s got the whole ocean to fish in, she kept telling herself. Why should it pick on you?

Avoiding the paths of light cast by the bonfires, Nancy swam in a wide arc, heading for a deserted part of the beach. She thought that once she got there, she could find a subtle way to join the crowd, pretending she’d always been part of it. If you get there, she reminded herself, and looked over her shoulder again. She didn’t see the shark, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t lurking somewhere, biding its time.

But Nancy couldn’t afford to bide her time. She realized she couldn’t keep up the slow pace. She was taking forever to reach the island, and she didn’t want to risk letting the Rosita get away. Sure, she could send the police after it eventually, but by then it might be too late for the four friends she’d left behind.

Forcing herself to forget every shark movie ever made, Nancy put her head down, started a strong, steady kick with her legs, and shot through the water like an Olympic swimmer going for the gold. She didn’t stop until she felt sand grazing her thighs, and even then she didn’t stand up. Instead, she crawled out of the water, her stomach brushing the sand, and then flopped down, hoping no one had seen her emerging from the ocean.

When she raised her head and looked toward the party, Nancy realized her fear of being seen was ridiculous. Absolutely nobody was looking her way. They were all too involved in dancing, eating, flirting, and splashing in the water. It would be simple to join them, and since the speedboats were beached close to the party, Nancy knew that was what she had to do.

Confident that no one was watching, Nancy stood up, brushed the sand from her body and picked the seaweed out of her hair. Then she began a slow saunter toward the bonfires, trying to look like she’d been for a solitary stroll along the beach and had decided to rejoin the party.

It was simple, just as she’d thought it would be. The party to nowhere was nothing more than a fancier version of the parties on the Fort Lauderdale beach. The food was a lot better than hot dogs and potato chips, but other than that, it was really just a bunch of people having too good a time to pay any attention to a single girl striding along the sand.

When Nancy reached the thick of the crowd, she put on a smile and started dancing with no one in particular. As she spun to her left, she spotted three of Lila’s boys. One was wrapping ears of corn to be roasted in the coals, one was stationed at a table, serving drinks, and the third one—handsome “Mr. Friendly,” the maintenance man—was leaning against one of the speedboats, his eyes roving over the crowd. There was no sign of Lila, and Nancy wondered suddenly if she was still on the Rosita .

Spinning again so that her back was to the maintenance man, Nancy realized that she had to do something, fast. If Lila was still on the Rosita , then the boat might be taking off sooner than Nancy had anticipated. Nancy knew she had to get her hands on one of those launches, but there was no way she could slip past the watchful eye of Mr. Friendly. Somehow, she had to make him leave his post.

Suddenly the group she was with began moving toward the water, and Nancy found herself swept along with them until she was knee-deep in the surf. Splashing each other and laughing as they tried to dance on the shifting sand beneath their feet, they kept moving into deeper water. They were getting farther from the shore and farther, Nancy noticed, from the light cast by the bonfires.

No one was trying to dance anymore; they were all diving under the waves, or swimming lazily. That was when Nancy got her idea. She needed a major distraction, something to get that maintenance man away from the speedboats, and she was going to create it herself.