She grinned. “It does. Can I see where he is?” He should have started towing the whale by now.
Nhiari pushed over the laptop. “Go for it.”
Penelope typed in the website, which allowed people to track marine traffic and scanned the area to find Sam’s boat. She frowned. “It shouldn’t be there.”
Nhiari stood behind her. “Where should it be?”
Penelope pointed. “Further north. If they drop it there, it will be pushed back to shore.”
“Declan went with him,” Dot said. “Maybe he chose there for a reason.”
“Only if he wants a bigger headache to deal with tomorrow. He knows better.”
Her stomach swirled as Dot and Nhiari exchanged glances. “Give us the short version of what happened this afternoon,” Dot demanded.
“The office radioed to tell me about the whale. I went to assess the situation. Grant and Murray found me and shot up the boat, sinking it.”
“Who at the office?” Dot asked.
“Declan.” As their faces became grim, she realised what they were thinking. “Declan’s involved.”
“Possibly. We need a boat.”
Penelope glanced at the screen to get the coordinates. Another boat popped up on the screen, just next to Sam’s. She recognised the name.
Joy Ridin’.
Her heart lurched. “They’ve got Sam.”
***
Sam came back to consciousness, but his instinct told him not to move. He struggled through the dark fog and took stock of his body. Arms stretched uncomfortably behind him, feet tied together.
Dark. Water lapped against the sides of the boat and quiet voices were nearby, but not in the same room as him.
Cautiously he opened an eye and took a moment for his vision to adjust. He definitely wasn’t on his boat any more. The carpet he lay on was plush, not the hardy marine carpet on the floor of his cabin.
Declan had hit him, knocked him out and if he was a betting man, he’d bet he was now on board Joy Ridin’. He lifted his head and spotted a digital display glowing nearby. He must have only been unconscious for a few minutes. The luxury boat had to have been hiding nearby, lights out, ready to pounce.
How had Declan told them he would be out here? Maybe it had been them he’d messaged rather than his wife to tell her he would be late home.
Sam never should have trusted him.
No point worrying about that now. He had to get free.
The clock was part of some other equipment, maybe a radio. He rolled towards it, and something hard in his pocket dug into him making him wince. What the hell was it? He rolled onto it again. Something cylindrical.
Penelope’s torch.
Not quite the knife he had hoped for, but it might help blind them temporarily.
Refocusing on his goal, he crunched up and got to his knees.
He would never complain about ab day again.
The box next to the radio was a tracker, a similar model to the one he had on his boat. The one which showed where you were on the ocean.
Quickly he leaned forward and used the momentum of his arms smacking against his butt to snap the ties around his wrists. Amateurs always thought cable ties were unbreakable.
