The afternoon ferry must have been filled to maximum capacity, because the bodies continued to spill from the passenger cabin. In the middle of the throng, one woman sparked Clancy’s curiosity. She was tall and slim, wearing hiking shorts, a fitted tee, and big sunglasses, chunks of blond bangs sticking out from under a shapeless canvas sun hat. She held the hand of a fidgety little boy in a pirate costume.
Clancy straightened, squinting into the afternoon sun. Something about her body language didn’t sit right with him. Her face was pulled tight in worry. Her smile seemed forced. And she jerked her head from side to side, as if checking the surroundings.
After studying her for a moment longer, Clancy decided the woman didn’t pose any physical danger to others, but her energy was most definitely off. Despite her nervousness, he noticed the elegant way she moved. The set of her shoulders was straight and her back was strong. The long and defined muscles of her legs allowed her to progress down the gangway as elegantly as a dancer.
She fascinated him, though he couldn’t pinpoint what it was he found so intriguing. One thing was for certain—she wasn’t a regular visitor. Clancy would have remembered a woman with such a pretty face, funky hair, and spectacular legs. He studied her as she stepped off the gangway onto the dock.
So strange . . . a gentle wave of awareness lifted him up and set him back down, carried him out, and pulled him back in. The sensation felt like a tap on the shoulder and sounded like a whisper in his ear.
Look closer.
Nope. He didn’t know her. But he wanted to. Clancy realized he’d already started walking in her direction. The undertow was too strong to resist.
* * *
For what felt like the thousandth time that day, Evelyn McGuinness questioned her sanity. She had to be certifiably crazy to attempt something like this. Her niece’s welfare was the most important thing in the world, of course, but she wasn’t stupid. Evelyn knew it was unlikely she could outsmart a powerful Massachusetts congressman with connections all over the country. No matter how far, how fast, or how carefully she ran, this was one race she could easily lose.
But she had to try. She’d given her word.
Evelyn squeezed Christina’s warm and sticky little hand. “You ready to play our game?” She made sure she kept the strain out of her voice as she helped her niece off the ferry.
Christina nodded, looking up with wide brown eyes. “Yep.”
“Good. Now, who am I?”
“You’re Aunt Cricket, silly.” Christina giggled with delight as she stomped on the metal gangway, making a racket.
“And who are you?”
“I’m a little boy named Chris! I’m four and I’m a pirate boy! I’m Pirate Jellybean!” She stomped again, tugging on the bandanna she wore on top of her close-cropped hair.
“Yes, you are!”
Evelyn pasted on a smile, hoping she could stop the hot rush of fear spreading from her belly into her chest and throat. She reminded herself that she had a strategy, and following it would dramatically improve her chances. She would attack this ordeal the way she’d done with each of the thirty-seven marathons she’d completed, relying on her physical strength and mental clarity to reach the finish line. It was all about pacing. Focus. About taking one step and then another, one breath and then another. And just as in a race, she couldn’t afford to be distracted by what others were doing or obsess about how many miles she still had to go.
So what if the whole world thought she was a kidnapper?
“Can I have ice cream?”
“Sure, sweetie. Once we get settled in the motel.”