“We have her number from Jonathan. You’ll be hearing from us.”
Carly screamed, “No, no, no!”
Emma climbed down the ladder.
“Carly, Carly, Carly. No, I’m so sorry.”
The cigarette boat roared away, Carly aboard.
Gone.
Emma’s heart constricted.
Jonathan was probably dead. Would she lose her friend, too?
The police boat closed in.
Emma scrambled down the ladder, jumped up and down as she waved her arms wildly. Then she pointed to the cigarette boat.
“Them, chase them!” she yelled, but the police boat didn’t change course.
Couldn’t they hear her?
The police boat slowed and pulled up next to them.
A tall man with short, salt and pepper hair stepped over to the side of the boat. His dark pants and polo shirt bore the Sturgeon Bay Police logo. Beneath the logo, it read Chief Mertz. His jaw muscles looked tense, his eyes sharp.
“Chief. The men who just fled are drug dealers. They abducted one of my passengers. They’re threatening to kill her unless we find their bag of drugs.” Cap said calmly.
“We’re not supposed to say anything,” Emma squeaked out in a panicked pitch so high she hardly recognized her own voice.
The chief’s intense gaze flicked to her and then back to Cap.
“I figured as much when they sped away. The Coast Guard has already been alerted. Our priority was you and your passengers,” he said before he glanced over his shoulder to the driver of their boat. “Dan, let the Coast Guard know they’ve abducted a passenger. Miss…”
“Brown, Emma Brown.”
“We’ll need a description of your friend. Hair and eye color, height, weight, and clothes.”
“Her name is Carly Stimpson, five-foot-ten, one-hundred-and-thirty-pounds, blonde, blue eyes.”
“Clothes?”
Emma couldn’t seem to remember. The stress scrambled her brain. Think Emma.
“She’s wearing a red bikini top with matching red shorts.”
She heard the driver of the police boat relay that information over his handheld radio. His voice was deep, and his tone was serious. He looked about the same age as the chief but not as tall, less than six feet. The man’s bright blue gaze met hers, offering empathy. His brown hair was cut military style. She’d bet he’d served. Army, maybe Marines.
The policewoman, dressed the same as the men in navy pants with a police-logoed polo, secured a couple of bumpers between the two boats and then looked at Cap.
“Dad knew something was up when you made that comment about my promotion and that I was what you needed right now. Smart.”
“I’m glad he picked up on that. I had to come up with something clever since there was a gun pointed at Emma.”
The chief surveyed the deck. “Who else do we have on the boat here?”
“My first mate, Preston. He needs medical attention,” Cap said.
