The deep end, p.25
The Deep End, page 25
She desperately hoped she wouldn’t have to call him. There’d already been way too many changes—and she wasn’t sure she could bear any more.
CHAPTER 60
Friday, August 12, 5:07 p.m.
IT HAD BEEN NEARLY AN HOUR since Parker had talked to his grandpa, and he’d honestly tried to keep his eyes on the truth of God’s having a plan. At first, it was tough to stay focused. But as he thought about God and the ways He’d been there before, Parker felt his confidence in God rise. And his own worries about not knowing what to do shrunk just a bit.
“God . . . I want your plan. What do I do?” Parker wasn’t sure what he’d expected to happen. But he didn’t hear a voice or see some mysterious hand writing a message on the hull of a sailboat or something. But there were two words that kept popping up in his mind. Stay close.
Okay . . . stay close to God—or to Harley?
Probably both. And if he was going to have a shot at Harley, he’d need to get to the dive shop before he closed—and not let him out of his sight.
Parker phoned his mom on the drive back to his boat slip. Told her what he’d been thinking—and how more than ever he believed he needed to stay close to Harley. “Can we have him over for dinner?”
Mom actually sounded really happy about that. She’d worked in Boston today—and his parents had driven into the city together. “Dad and I should be home by six thirty. He’ll be as happy to have Harley for dinner as I am. Is spaghetti okay? With chocolate milk?”
Like she had to ask. “See you soon, Mom.”
He pulled into his slip next to Steadman’s Whaler and secured the dock lines. Cut the motor. Wiped the spray off the seats and helm and gunwales. His mind drifted to Harley. He’d be off work in less than an hour—and Parker would be waiting for him. He couldn’t shed the sense that there was something he wasn’t seeing—and maybe Harley wasn’t either.
“Show me the way, God.” He didn’t always close his eyes when he prayed. But this time he did. He didn’t want to see anything or anyone else. Nothing that might distract him. Nothing that made it hard to focus like he needed to. “Show me the way.”
He opened his eyes to the sound of someone pounding down the aluminum ramp from the top of the T-wharf to the floating docks in the South Basin. Harley?
The guy who seemed to be pushing Parker away all day—was actually running toward him? Even then, Parker wasn’t sure if Harley was glad to see him or not. Had he closed the shop early? His face looked absolutely haunted. And Parker thought of Grandpa’s words again. This was Harley’s moment. He’d hit the push point. He was on the edge—and whatever Parker did right now would either send him over that precipice—or give him a lifeline. God . . . help me help him.
“Parks.” Harley sounded like he’d sprinted all the way from the dive shop. “I need your boat.” He looked dead serious.
“For what?”
His eyes flicked toward the Outer Harbor for just a fraction of a second. “I can’t tell you.”
CHAPTER 61
Friday, August 12, 5:20 p.m.
HOW WAS HARLEY SUPPOSED TO CONVINCE Parker to let him take his boat? “Trust me.” That was the best he could do? Ella and Jelly already thought he was a car thief. Would Parker really be any different?
“The swells are getting bigger. Even I wouldn’t go out of the harbor in the Bomb right now. Where do you need to go?”
But he had to leave the harbor. “I can’t tell you that either.”
“How’d you even know I’d be here?”
Okay, Parker was going to figure this out. Harley had to be completely honest—or he’d break trust for sure. “I didn’t.”
Parker’s eyes narrowed a bit. “So . . . you were going to just take the boat if I wasn’t here?”
“Borrow it for a little while. I’ll pay back the gas I use.” Even then Harley knew Parker wasn’t going to do it. Parker pulled the key from the ignition. Balled it up in his fist.
“I got a phone call, okay?” Harley scanned the shore. Was somebody watching? Making sure he wasn’t telling a soul? “Somebody saw Kemosabe. Saw it being taken. Found out where it’s hidden. They’ll only tell me if I meet them. Please—just give me the keys and walk away. There are some very bad people involved in this. Someone might even be watching me now. Don’t say a word to anyone about what I just told you. Promise.”
Parker’s eyes got pretty wide even though Harley had barely told him a thing. “Do you hear yourself, Harley? This sounds like a trap. You can’t go meet anyone. Not alone, especially with the size of the waves outside the harbor. The whole idea sounds insane. Let’s go to the harbormasters’ office. Eric or Maggie will—”
“No—nobody can know.” Harley could pull Parks out of the boat. Grab his keys. Toss Parker in the water and take off. Or he could tell him just enough so this wouldn’t turn into a fight. Could he trust him with his secret? He knew he could. “It was Scorza. He won’t do anything to me. He doesn’t have what it takes—and even he knows that.”
Parker seemed to be weighing his words. Harley had never had a friend like him. Not ever. A guy who would do just about anything to help someone in trouble. Harley was banking on that quality rising to the top right now.
“Where?”
“Dry Salvages.”
“Are you crazy?” Parker shook his head. “Too dangerous in this boat. Too far off shore. The swells are too big.”
“I’m running out of time. It’s my last chance, Parks. If I don’t do this, right now, I’ll always—”
“You go out there by yourself in this boat and you may not make it back.”
How could Harley make him understand? “If I don’t find Kemosabe, I don’t care what happens to me.”
Parker stared at him like he couldn’t believe it. “Well, you should care. Your friends sure care what happens to you. Your dad did.”
He didn’t get it. “Don’t talk about my dad. I’m doing this for my dad, did you ever think of that? That was our project. If I lose Kemosabe . . . I’m nothing.”
“Are you hearing yourself, Harley? Life isn’t about what you own or don’t own. That stuff doesn’t define us—or it shouldn’t.”
“I got no time for this now,” Harley said. “I need a boat.”
Parker looked torn. Like he was cracking on the whole you-can’t-go-out-in-this-weather thing. “You have to go into this with your eyes open. It’s super risky.”
Harley could see that Parks was considering saying yes. “Well, let me take Steadman’s boat, then. I bet you know where the key is.”
Parker looked at the bigger boat like he was tempted. “Nah, I know how my boat handles in rough water—and I’ve got plenty of gas.”
Harley hopped into the Boy’s Bomb. “Thanks, Parks. I owe you. Give me the key.”
“Two conditions. No, make that three.”
Harley undid the bow line and dropped it on the deck. “Name them.”
“First, somebody needs to know. Going out there with growing swells? And there’s a fog bank anchored a couple miles out just waiting to come in.” He shook his head. “Nobody is going out of this harbor without telling someone. I have to call my parents.”
“You’ll know, Parks. Why get your parents involved? So if I’m not back by dark you can—”
Parker shook his head. “That’s my second condition. I’m going with.”
“No—you can’t do that.” Harley gave him the quick rundown. He had to be alone or Scorza would tell the lobster boat to keep going.
“Call him,” Parker said. “Tell him the seas are too dangerous—and that I have to drive or you might not even make it to the rendezvous.”
Harley was wasting too much time arguing. The truth was, he could use the help. The idea of taking anything this small out of the protected harbor—unless the seas were flat—was not something he felt confident to do. He’d have water over the bow before he got halfway to the Salvages. And he really didn’t want to have to push Parker into the water to get the Boy’s Bomb. He pulled out the phone. “If this blows the deal, I’m going to . . .”
Parker smiled. “You’ll what.”
“Go back to Plan A.” Harley smiled back and grabbed his phone. Scrolled back to the last call he’d received. “You’ll be going for a swim.”
CHAPTER 62
Friday, August 12, 5:30 p.m.
BRYCE SCORZA’S WALMART PHONE RANG from Mr. Lotitto’s pocket. He met Mr. Lotitto’s steely eyes. “Nobody has this number—honest. Just let it go.”
Ray Lotitto stared at the number on the screen. “It’s Harley—which means there’s a problem.” He cocked his head slightly. “You’ll take it. And you’ll be on speaker. Play this smart, Mr. Scorza. Like the big game rides on how you handle this.”
Bryce had followed every instruction so far. He’d helped the guy named Vinny load Kemosabe into an old panel van before leaving Port Knox. Bryce slid inside the Silverado without a fight. He could have run the moment they parked at the marina—and neither of them would have caught him. But they knew where he lived. And they’d get him eventually. So he’d walked between them all the way to the boat like they truly were all on the same team. And he wasn’t going to mess things up now. No, the way to play this was to show Lotitto and Kelsey that they could trust him completely. That he was no threat to them. The phone call was one more opportunity to prove it. That was how he’d come out of this in one piece.
He connected. “Harley?”
“I have a problem.” Harley explained Gatorade insisting to go with—and about the growing waves. Those two were going to mess everything up. But Mr. Lotitto didn’t look a bit rattled. His eyes narrowed, like he was processing how this variable might change things. He smiled and pulled the cap off a Sharpie. He scrounged around for something to write on. He pulled up Bryce’s sleeve and settled for his forearm.
Bryce read the message and looked at Lotitto to see if he was serious. The man nodded.
“Okay,” Bryce said. “Gatorade comes with. But neither of you tells another soul about why you’re leaving the harbor—or I won’t tell you a thing about where Kemosabe is. You’re only getting one shot at this.”
Mr. Lotitto was writing furiously again while Harley swore neither of them would say a word.
“You’re being watched,” Bryce said. “You know that, right? One of the guys from the team is doing me a favor.”
There was a hesitation. “I don’t see anyone.”
“Good thing. Because if you did, we’re done right now. He doesn’t know what’s going on, and he’s not asking questions.” Bryce read the next line on his own arm. He nodded like he understood enough of what they expected of him. “The instant I get off the phone I’m calling him. And he’s going to need to see you leave your phones on the dock. If you don’t, don’t bother going to the Salvages. I won’t be there.”
Harley didn’t answer for a few seconds. “What if we have boat problems? I mean, no phones . . . that’s not even safe.”
“There’s nothing safe about any of this, Harley. The waves and the weather are the least of your worries. Believe me, if you mess this up, you’ll never see Kemosabe again. These guys could move it anytime—and it’ll be gone forever. Think about that.”
Ray Lotitto smiled. Winked at him. Like he was part of the team.
“You hold your phones up so the guy with binoculars has a clear view of them—and let him see you leave them on the dock. Got it?”
Bryce was absolutely sure Harley got it all right. He was taking the bait. He’d be out in the open ocean, miles from shore. Like a couple of birds, Harley and Gatorade would be flying out to sea, not realizing it was a trap. Bryce wrestled inside, just a little. It was obvious Mr. Lotitto and Kelsey had no intention of letting Harley or Gatorade back to shore—unless they were floating facedown. Did he want to be part of this?
But he already was part of it. Nothing could change that now. Right now, he had to adapt. Scramble a bit to keep from getting sacked. Because unless he wanted to sleep with the fishes himself, he had to do exactly what he was told.
“You’d better get going, Harley,” Bryce said. “The clock is ticking. If we drive by and you aren’t anchored there, we’re not circling around until you do.”
Honestly, it felt really good to be calling the plays again. He was telling Harley what to do, and the running back was jumping. Harley should have never crossed him. If he hadn’t, Bryce wouldn’t have been in the lobster traps and seen the motorcycle heist. And Bryce wouldn’t be in the bad field position he was in now. This was Harley’s fault—and he was only getting what he’d probably deserved all along. No . . . not probably. Definitely.
Mr. Lotitto drew his finger across his own throat like it was a knife.
End this call, now. Bryce nodded. “I’m hanging up, Harley. Then I’m tossing this phone into the water. So there’ll be no more calls. I’m on my way . . . so you’d better get moving.”
“The minute I hang up we’ll be flying to Dry Salvages,” Harley said. “We’ll leave our phones on the pier. And Scorza—I really appreciate this, even if you’re only doing it to protect yourself.”
It was a little late for Harley to start appreciating him.
“I owe you, Scorza,” Harley said. “I’ll remember this—what you’re doing—for the rest of my life.”
Which would be a lot shorter than Harley expected, if everything Bryce’s gut told him was true. That was an absolutely intense thought. Bryce couldn’t possibly get his head wrapped around it. But he didn’t have to now. He’d save those thoughts for later. And the truth? Lotitto was already dead to him months ago. Right now, Bryce had something way more important to focus on. His own survival.
He disconnected—and looked up at the coach.
Mr. Lotitto nodded his approval, pointed at the phone—and then at the water.
Harley pitched the phone over the side. The thing dropped like a stone.
There was one interesting side benefit to this whole morbid thing. Bryce would be rid of the one friend who’d turned on him. And as a bonus, he’d see the ultimate payback to Gatorade, the guy who had turned Harley against him. All that with one little phone call.
Two birds.
One big stone.
CHAPTER 63
Friday, August 12, 5:35 p.m.
“DO YOU THINK SCORZA WAS TELLING US the truth—about somebody from the football team watching us?” Parker scanned the shoreline. “I mean, who would he get to do that—especially if he’s really running from the muscle that did this? I think he’s bluffing.”
“We’re not taking a chance.” Harley grabbed the dry bag from under the seat. He held it high so anyone watching would see. He made a deliberate show of dropping his phone inside. “Now yours, Parks.”
“I have to tell my parents—you know I do.” He’d worked too hard to build trust. He wasn’t going to toss it all to the wind because of Scorza’s paranoia.
“What if someone is watching? I can’t let you blow this.”
Parker dropped to his knees. Got low like he was checking a connection on the gas tank. “Nobody will see me make the call from down here. I’m doing this.” He tapped his mom’s contact. She’d be on her way home with Dad now—and she was more likely to have the phone on and nearby. By the look on Harley’s face, Parker would have to make this quick.
Her phone went to voicemail immediately. What was he supposed to do now? At the tone, he gave a fifteen-second explanation of the sudden change of plans. He’d be late for dinner. Had to help Harley. This was his one shot at finding Kemosabe. He mentioned that there was a loan shark—and how Harley wasn’t the target after all. They were leaving the harbor—and leaving their phones behind.
“I’m so sorry, Mom and Dad! We’ll leave a note in a dry bag on the dock with exactly where we’re going.” Parker glanced up at Harley—who gave a quick nod.
“If we’re not back by the time you get here—you’ll know where to find us. I’ll be careful, but we have to go—now.” Parker disconnected and tried to get a visual on just how big the waves were getting. It was impossible to tell from here.
“Scorza is already on his way,” Harley said. “We should have left five minutes ago.”
Parker hunkered over the phone and whipped off a text to Jelly. Harley was so busy scribbling out a note to put in the sea bag with the phones that he didn’t seem to notice.
Parker tossed the phone to Harley.
Harley held it high enough for anybody watching them to see it, dropped it in the sea bag, and placed the whole thing on the dock. Parker undid the stern line and fired up the Merc. Harley pushed them away from the dock.
Harley kept a watch shoreward as they raced past the yacht club. The farther they got from the dock, the more he seemed to loosen up.
“You think Scorza is telling the truth—that this is about your uncle, not you?”
“Makes sense, doesn’t it?”
It definitely did. A whole lot more than all this having to do with Scorza out to nail Harley.
“He sounded scared, Parks. Here’s my theory. This is about the loan shark. My uncle owes him money—and the shark took the bike hostage.”
“To make sure he pays?”
Harley nodded. “Something like that. And if he’s late—and he will be—my bike is gone. So we find out where it is—and get it before it’s gone for good.”
Parker slid the throttle all the way forward. He cut a straight line for the channel past the sailboats moored in the Outer Harbor.
“There was a third thing I needed to take you out there,” Parker said. “Remember?”
Harley smiled slightly. “I thought you forgot.”
Not hardly. “You’re going to tell me what happened last night. Your side of the story. And I mean everything.”
“I can do that. Get ready for a ride.”
He could say the same thing to Harley. Even in the short time since he’d been on the phone with his grandpa, the seas had picked up. And he was not liking the looks of it. God, help us.
