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Back Deception Cove Save as PDF
Chapters (78)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Prologue
  7. One
  8. Two
  9. Three
  10. Four
  11. Five
  12. Six
  13. Seven
  14. Eight
  15. Nine
  16. Ten
  17. Eleven
  18. Twelve
  19. Thirteen
  20. Fourteen
  21. Fifteen
  22. Sixteen
  23. Seventeen
  24. Eighteen
  25. Nineteen
  26. Twenty
  27. Twenty-One
  28. Twenty-Two
  29. Twenty-Three
  30. Twenty-Four
  31. Twenty-Five
  32. Twenty-Six
  33. Twenty-Seven
  34. Twenty-Eight
  35. Twenty-Nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-One
  38. Thirty-Two
  39. Thirty-Three
  40. Thirty-Four
  41. Thirty-Five
  42. Thirty-Six
  43. Thirty-Seven
  44. Thirty-Eight
  45. Thirty-Nine
  46. Forty
  47. Forty-One
  48. Forty-Two
  49. Forty-Three
  50. Forty-Four
  51. Forty-Five
  52. Forty-Six
  53. Forty-Seven
  54. Forty-Eight
  55. Forty-Nine
  56. Fifty
  57. Fifty-One
  58. Fifty-Two
  59. Fifty-Three
  60. Fifty-Four
  61. Fifty-Five
  62. Fifty-Six
  63. Fifty-Seven
  64. Fifty-Eight
  65. Fifty-Nine
  66. Sixty
  67. Sixty-One
  68. Sixty-Two
  69. Sixty-Three
  70. Sixty-Four
  71. Sixty-Five
  72. Sixty-Six
  73. Sixty-Seven
  74. Sixty-Eight
  75. Acknowledgments
  76. Discover More
  77. About the Author
  78. Also by Owen Laukkanen

Sure enough, within seconds, the forest exploded in sound again. It was enough to scare her into action. She pulled at her tether, wriggled her collar loose, squirmed her head through it, and pawed it clear with her foreleg. The collar dropped to the ground. She was free.

Lucy didn’t waste time. She ran.

Fifty-Eight

Fifty-Eight

Dale Whitmer washed up, bleeding and spitting seawater, on the north side of the bay. Felt a monster breaker scrape him over a boulder like a bed of nails, then draw back, leaving him high and momentarily dry, confused and in pain and more than half drowned.

He lay there on the rocks, his clothes torn to shreds, his hands and face, too, and he wanted nothing more than to go back into the water and die peacefully. But it wouldn’t be peaceful, he knew. The sea would batter him against the rocks until he broke, and it wouldn’t be instantaneous, and it sure wouldn’t be pretty. He had to move, quickly, before the next wave pulled him back.

Whitmer pushed himself up, the rock slicing open his palms where they weren’t already cut. His rifle was gone; it would be useless by now anyway. Kirby’s Grady-White lay aground in the surf a few yards away, beat to shit itself and probably a total loss.

The boat was upright, though, and Whitmer hoped that meant Joy’s stash of guns in the little cabin was intact. Whatever happened next, he wanted to be armed.

Christ, but that Winslow bitch was a hell of a shot. Whitmer could feel the welt on his chest where she’d hit him, almost square in the sternum. If she’d aimed a little higher, he’d be dead right now, but that Joy fella had packed body armor for everyone, and Whitmer was glad for it.

There was no sign of Joy or anyone else, and Whitmer surmised that Harwood and Sweeney had made it into the bush. He’d heard gunfire from somewhere on the island as he lay bleeding, but as he made his way to the wrecked cruiser and climbed over the hull to the cockpit, the shooting stopped and the forest was silent.

Jess Winslow could still be out in those trees on the south side of the bay, scoping you with her rifle. Any moment she could realize her mistake and blow your head clean off.

But nobody fired on him, and Whitmer descended into the galley, the boat rocking as another wave hit. He found the plastic cases where Joy and Harwood had stashed them, found a whole squad’s worth of .40-cal Smith & Wesson semiautomatic pistols staring him in the face when he opened the first box. He took two. Scrounged for ammunition, found a stack of spare magazines, and brought a few of those along too.