Still her body resisted until the voices grew closer.
Do it, Mackenzie. Do it or die.
She stepped off as quietly as she could.
The cold hit like a hammer. Gideon grabbed her wrist, and they swam under the wood of the docking into the dark shadows. The smell of diesel and tar was pungent.
The beam of a flashlight began to cleave the shadows.
“Look at this,” Al said in a whisper.
Mackenzie’s heart dropped.
“Wet tracks here,” Al said.
The footsteps grew more hurried, and the distinct sound of a gun being drawn from a holster followed.
“They’re in here,” Jerry whispered. “Go to the other side. We’ll pincher them.”
Divide and destroy. Jerry’s boots scuffed across the planks as he passed their hiding spot, then stopped at the next boat slip.
“Any sign of them?”
“Footprints not showing here. Check the boats.”
Gideon and Mackenzie watched, still as they could be, looking up through the skinny gaps between the boards. Mackenzie struggled to keep her panicky breaths quiet and shallow. Her limbs quaked so badly she was making ripples in the water. Al’s shadow flickered past, closing in. She saw his rifle held tight.
“We know you’re in here,” Al said, “and you’re not getting out. You think you’re real clever, don’t you? That’s what people believe at first when they cross the boss. Then what happens? They turn out dead. Like your brother, right?”
He continued to prowl, and Mackenzie barely felt Gideon’s hands clench around hers.
Jerry stayed in his position, checking the boat next to the slip where they were concealed while Al closed in from his side. Good strategy, she had to admit. Gideon could take Al, probably, if he had the strength to free his weapon, but Al and Jerry had the upper hand in terms of position. Gideon wouldn’t be able to subdue them both, not in his present condition.
Feeling Gideon’s pressure on her wrist, she allowed him to ease her slowly backward, deeper into the oily water under the walkway, searching for a way out. It was like being dipped in liquid agony.
“Gonna kill you,” Al said. “Dam’s gonna fail anytime now. After you’re dead, you’ll be washed away and no one will ever even find your bloated bodies. We’ll take apicture first, though. Show it to the boss. Nothing left to chance, right?”
Gideon gave Mackenzie a sign before he dove down. She waited, her body shivering uncontrollably as she prayed for his return. The visibility was nil. Rain began to slash against the boathouse roof. She’d lost track of the seconds by the time Gideon popped up again. Quickly he pantomimed that she was to go down with him.
Go where?
Her brain wasn’t working well enough to think out any plans, so she merely took a breath and dove with him. In the murky water he pointed to the pilings, set ten feet apart with a nice gap in between. Plenty big enough for two people to squeeze through and escape the boathouse into the lake.
But she was too desperate for air, so they had to surface again for a quick breath. She had no idea how much longer her body would obey commands.
Al was still talking.
“No way out, but if you surrender, maybe we’ll change our minds and take you alive. How’s that? Boss would love to meet you, especially the pretty lady who made all those podcasts and raked up trouble. Might want to get your autograph. Gonna be worth something after you’re dead, huh?”
Gideon put his mouth next to her ear. “Swim out. Stay under as long as you can to get some distance. Let the river carry you and we’ll get to land when we can.”
If they could ...
She prepared to dive again, but as she did so, a nail protruding from the dock caught in her jacket.
She pulled and the fabric tore.
It was a small enough sound, but it might as well have been a siren.
