Chapter 8 - The Marina on the Bluffs
The storm had ripped the power lines down along the coastal highway. The black waters of Lake Moraine churned violently below the cliffs as my Ford crested the ridge.
The marina boathouse was an isolated wooden structure sitting on concrete pylons extending forty feet out into the black water.
Two black Cadillac Escalades were parked sideways across the gravel dock, their headlights illuminating the storm-tossed waves and the wooden walkway leading to the boathouse.
The front doors of the boathouse had been kicked off their hinges.
I killed my engine, racked the slide on Vance’s Glock, and stepped into the gale. The rain fell like needles against my face.
Inside the boathouse, a gunshot rang out.
I sprinted down the wooden boardwalk, keeping low behind the overturned skiffs and fuel barrels.
Through the shattered doorway, I saw Leo’s sister, Sarah, pinned to the floor by a burly security contractor in a black tactical jacket. Her shoulder was bleeding.
In the center of the wet plank floor stood Vanessa.
She wasn't wearing her elegant dresses or her pearls. She wore a tailored black coat and high leather riding boots, holding four-year-old Ilaria by the collar of her jacket like a stray kitten over the open water hatch where the boats were launched.
Beneath Ilaria’s dangling legs, the black, freezing water churned against the wooden pilings.
"Put her down, Vanessa!" Sarah choked out from the floor.
"Shut your mouth," Vanessa hissed, her voice sharp, jagged, and dripping with venom. "This miserable little invalid cost me everything. Her mother ruined my father’s legacy, and now Mark thinks he can play detective? When Mark gets here, he’s going to watch his precious broken daughter sink to the bottom just like Claire did."
"Mommy..." Ilaria wailed, her tiny arms flailing helplessly in the dark. "Daddy! Help me!"
"Drop her and I’ll put a bullet through your forehead," I said, stepping through the doorway with the Glock raised and locked onto Vanessa’s chest.
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Vanessa whipped her head around. When she saw the gun in my hand and the blood on my face, a manic smile spread across her red lips.
"Mark darling," she mocked, shifting her grip so Ilaria swung inches above the swirling black water. "Take one more step, and I open my fingers. Let's see how well she swims without her legs."
