“Now, sir.” Cilla’s voice climbed, and she stamped her foot. “The boat is sinking. The fishermen are in the water. It’s cold. Send out a boat straightaway.”
“You do not give me orders.” His tone cut. “I’ll investigate. If you’re telling the truth, we’ll send rescue vessels from Scapa.”
“Scapa! That’s too far. I—I’ll go myself. I’ll take one of the boats at Brough.”
“You’ll do no such thing. Reese—go to the lighthouse and make sure our selkie doesn’t do anything stupid.”
Cilla slammed down the receiver. Men were dying, and she was supposed to do nothing?
She raced down the spiral staircase. She’d done nothing when Hilde goaded little Gerda to her death. She’d done nothing when Arno and his thugs killed Dirk. What good could she have done? Maybe she couldn’t have helped. Maybe she would have died herself. But she would have died with a clear conscience.
What if those men in the water—what if their boat had been sunk because of one of Cilla’s messages?
She gulped down a sob and thumped down the last steps.
The front door opened—Gwen.
Cilla dashed to the Wren. “Come with me. Two of us can pilot a boat better than one.”
Gwen’s eyes stretched wide, and she set her hands on the doorjamb on either side. “Commander Yardley told me not to let you—”
“Save men’s lives?” Cilla shook her arm in that direction. “You won’t let me save men’s lives? This can’t wait.”
“I will not let you leave.”
And Cilla would not let Gwen stop her. She shouldered past the Wren and dashed into the courtyard toward the bicycles leaning against the whitewashed wall.
On the other side of the wall sat Yardley’s staff car.
“Commander!” Gwen yelled. “Commander! She’s escaping!”
Cilla released a strangled cry and tested the car’s door. It flew open. She slid inside and started the engine.
Commander Yardley burst out of the keeper’s house.
No time to spare. Cilla stomped on the accelerator. The car lurched forward, and Cilla sped down the road, gravel rattling on the undercarriage.
She swiped tears from her eyes. Yardley didn’t believe her.Gwen didn’t believe her. All this time, and they still didn’t trust her.
On the far side of the stone wall, Cilla cranked the steering wheel and turned down the road to Brough.
Gwen thought Cilla was trying to escape?
Cilla thumped the wheel with a fist. Had she risked imprisonment? Execution?
What did it matter?
If she remained at Dunnet Head and waited for Yardley, every one of those fishermen would die.
They still might die. She pushed the accelerator to the floor.
26
Lachlan stood in the center cockpit as the motorboat sped toward Brough over calm seas.
“Think about the meeting,” he muttered, “not about the woman you’re meeting.”
He hadn’t seen her since Hogmanay, bonny and winsome in her blue dress.
