She bit her bottom lip, kneeled down, and pulled a map out of her backpack on the floor. She looked at the detailed layout of the river and then looked up at the shoreline. She pointed back down the east side of the river. “He can’t go much farther north, and there’s no place to beach on the west side. The cliffs go right into the water, no beach, no privacy. He’ll need those things.”
“Same on the east side,” Mac answered.
“True, except for here,” Fornier pointed to a small patch on the east side, just south of the train bridge. “The cliffs are still there, but there’s a beach back there, completely surrounded by trees. Coming in from the south, you have to wind your way in a little to get back there. He’ll have to be careful, and he’ll never get completely to shore, but heck, he wouldn’t want to. He’ll have to moor that sucker in the water, which will take him some time. But if you can get back there, there’s a place to camp. I did it once a few years ago.”
“How far back in on that little channel?” Mac said, pointing down to the map.
“A couple hundred yards,” Fornier answered. “But it’s isolated, away from the crowds, so if you think their intent is to…”
“Kill them,” Mac finished for her.
“Right. It would be a good spot. If anyone heard gunfire, they’d just assume it was fireworks, especially on the Fourth of July.”
“Of course, if we come from the same direction, we’ll be sitting ducks.”
“Maybe,” Fornier answered, looking at the map. “But if you come from the north instead…”
“You mean go past their position, up to the rail bridge…”
“Right,” Fornier nodded. “You have more of a straight show from there. You have to plane it out, trim it up pretty high, but this kind of boat…”
“Could do it,” Mac nodded, a plan coming together in his mind. He dialed Riley. “Pat, here’s what I need you to do.”
The chief felt the boat make a slow turn to the right, the throttle easing back and then into neutral before once again easing forward very slowly. The chief and Lyman both looked at their watches. They’d been traveling for maybe forty-five minutes to an hour.
“When they open that door, do we come charging out?” Hisle asked. “It might be our only shot.”
Flanagan held up his bound hands. “It’s our two to their four, and they all have guns. If we rush them, they’ll just shoot us.”
“So we just let them kill us?”
“I don’t know,” the chief replied. “I don’t like sitting back, going down without a fight. But there’s one thing to keep in mind. If we try something, they might not release Shannon and Carrie.”
“You think they will release them?”
“I have my doubts. But that’s our only play at this point.”
Hisle snorted and shook his head. “So to save the girls, we bite the bullet.”
“You lawyers are always good for the gallows humor,” the chief replied.
The boat came to a stop, and the two men shared a look. Whatever was to happen was going to happen soon.
“Well then,” Hisle said, “I guess this is the end of the line. A hell of a way to go, eh Charlie?” Lyman stuck out his hand, a wry smile on his face.
The chief grasped his hand and shook it. “It’s always been a pleasure, Lyman.”
Smith picked his way through the channel, but it was harder to maneuver in the dimming light. He beached prematurely, approximately one hundred feet from the shoreline. “Shit,” he said.
“Ah don’t worry about it, we just gotta walk a little farther,” Dean said. The Muellers both climbed over the sides to secure the boat and then sloshed to the shore. They started a fire on the beach to help create the camping illusion. The fire started and the boat secure, Dean and David climbed back aboard, and joined Smith and Monica down in the cabin.
Smith took his. 45 off the table and nodded for Dean and David to do the same. “They might try to rush us,” Smith whispered and then nodded to Monica.
She undid the lock to the bathroom and yanked the door open. Flanagan and Hisle remained seated in the bathroom. Smith waved them out with the. 45. Flanagan exited first, grimacing as he slid off the vanity. Hisle followed, lifting himself off the toilet seat. Neither man said a word. The lead kidnapper looked to David, who started up the companionway steps. “Follow him up the steps,” Smith ordered.
Mac stayed as far to the west side of the river as he could and cruised past the mouth of the cove that Brown’s boat had entered. He could see the large boat slowly working its way into the channel. Not wanting to draw attention, at least not yet, Mac continued a half mile farther north, passing beneath the hulking steel train bridge. Then he turned around and idled a few minutes in the river. Mac, Lich, Fornier, and the Stillwater chief all slipped on their vests and checked their weapons. Mac had his Sig-Sauer, Lich his Smith. Fornier and the Stillwater chief each had their sidearm. Fornier slid a new clip into hers.
“You always like a big gun?” Lich asked, cracking jokes even now.