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He hoped.
They powered through the dark, choppy waters. His stomach jackknifed as he lost his sea legs. Next to him, Owen gripped the rail, bouncing uncontrollably and pursing his lips.
Farther out, a cluster of small islands surrounded by marshy land came into blurred view. In the center of the small islands surrounded by forest and foliage stood a large mustard-yellow home on stilts with shaker siding and a large turret with windows. Was that where he was holding all these women? Like Rapunzel?
“Look! That must be the boat he brought Bexley over on.” Approaching a private dock, Ty eased off the gas, unsure if they’d be able to dock this boat. The storm was increasing in force dramatically. But another boat had been docked. She was here. They were all here.
Marshland covered most of the area. “He must dock here and take a canoe through the narrow channels. No other way to approach the home.”
But now a majority of the water had been sucked out from a reverse storm surge. Instead of the wind pushing water inland, the force of the fierce winds had resulted in pushing water outward, leaving sand, mud and debris to trek across.
“What do we do?” Owen asked.
“Let me dock this thing and we’ll figure it out.” Did they take a chance on walking through this marshland up to the island house? If the eye made landfall soon, the sound could return the water with destructive force, leaving them powerless.
He cut the boat engine and threw out a rope, working to attach it to the wooden beams.
“Leave it already! It’s not worth it. Guy’s insurance will cover it.” Owen motioned him to follow, and Ty leaped from the boat onto the dock. The wind was coming from the north at their backs. This wouldn’t be an easy trek. Leaving on their life vests, they began the battle, and Ty gripped Owen as they fought to stay upright.
“This is crazy!” Owen said through a nervous laugh.
“We’ll look back on it with fond memories.” Bits of marsh grass and sand pelted Ty’s face and neck. He kept his head down and hunched, protecting his eyes the best he could manage.
Owen sank to his knees and growled. Ty pulled him from the sludge acting as quicksand. They only had about ten yards to go to reach the house but it felt impossible. Like miles.
Pushing through the gunk, they dodged flying trees. Forced to the ground by the gales, they clawed their way toward the house. Mud and sand slipped under Ty’s nails and sailed up his nose and into his mouth. He squinted and continued the trek. A maze of boardwalks was up ahead.
His leg muscles spasmed and bits of shell sliced into his palms. From the wounds and traces of marsh debris on her body, Ty imagined Cami running from this place, slipping into the dark water and attempting an escape. The same grit and nettles digging into her feet and slashing at her skin. Fear fueling her to risk the torture that would come if she failed and enduring it with hopes the team would come to her rescue.
Ty had let her down.
He could redeem his lost efforts. He’d bring Garrick or Dalen or both of them to justice, give Cami’s family closure and hope they could all forge ahead into some kind of new normal, but the office would never be the same without her. Their lives would never be the same.
Bexley, Josiah, Ahnah. The other women trapped. They kept him moving, but exhaustion overwhelmed his body and he couldn’t catch his breath. He needed renewed strength. Not his own strength but something far greater and powerful—more powerful than this hurricane—to allow him to continue. Owen was right.
Lightning pierced the black sky, and the next peal of thunder rattled Ty’s chest.
“You know I must love you something fierce, bruh, to willingly fight a storm for you,” Owen yelled.
“You had the chance to back out!” Ty hollered as rain blew down his throat, choking him with sand. He coughed and crawled as the storm battered and beat them down.
Blood ran down Owen’s cheeks and cuts littered his hands, but he pushed onward, never leaving Ty’s side. Ty owed him. He would buy him coffee for a year or pay for his fancy suits to be dry-cleaned until he retired.
“And leave you to your own devices? Not a chance.”
“Almost to the boardwalk. We can do this,” Ty said.
“Ty!” Owen pointed upward, and Ty strained to see against the downpour, shielding his eyes.
Above, a funnel began shooting down over the water.
“Tornado!”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kipos Island
Friday, September 7
