Chapter 10
The interior of the sea cave was damp and dimly lit, illuminated only by the pale, refracted sunlight bouncing off the churning green water at the entrance. The air carried a heavy scent of brine, rotting kelp, and old engine oil.
Clara leaned against the cold stone wall, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her beige trench coat was stained with mud and pine sap, her dark wavy hair tangled around her face. Lily buried her face in Clara’s shoulder, clinging tightly to her spiral notebook, exhausted and trembling from the ordeal.
Julian crouched near the dark rear of the cavern, running his hands along the uneven stone floor until his fingers brushed against a heavy canvas tarp. With a sharp tug, he yanked the tarp away, revealing an old wooden marine skiff equipped with a reliable vintage outboard motor.
"It's here," Julian whispered, inspecting the fuel tank with a practiced eye. He twisted the cap, sniffing the interior. "Old fuel, but the stabilizer Luka used kept it viable. It'll run."
Clara walked over, holding Lily protectively by the hand. She looked at the battered wooden boat, then up at Julian’s bruised and dirt-smudged face. "Julian, your suit is ruined."
A faint, tired smile touched the corners of Julian’s mouth, breaking his usual stoic corporate demeanor. "It was a cheap suit anyway. Come on, help me push her out before the tide turns."
Working together, they strained against the heavy hull, sliding the skiff across the slick stone floor until it splashed heavily into the shallow, swirling water of the cove. Julian lifted Lily carefully and placed her on the wooden bench in the middle of the boat, then motioned for Clara to climb in.
Julian waded waist-deep into the freezing Pacific water, gripping the bow and pulling the skiff past the jagged rocks of the cave opening into the open channel. Once clear of the surf, he vaulted agilely over the transom into the stern.
He pulled the starter cord once. The vintage motor sputtered and died.
He pulled it again, harder this time, his muscles straining against the resistance. On the third pull, the engine roared to life with a loud, sputtering drone of diesel combustion, kicking up a white wake of foam behind them.
Julian steered the skiff hard to port, heading away from the island toward the shipping lanes of the San Juan archipelago, where commercial ferry traffic would easily swallow their small craft from radar and visual surveillance.
As they crested a large grey swell, Clara looked back toward the dark cliffs of Orcas Island. High up on the rocky ridge, two dark figures stood near the tree line, watching their escape vanish into the gray mist of the Pacific.
"They know where we're going now," Clara said quietly, sitting beside Lily on the wooden bench.
May you like
"Let them look," Julian replied, his hands firm on the tiller, his dark eyes fixed firmly ahead on the horizon. "We're heading for international waters. And the truth is coming with us."
***
