Pirate by Clive Cussler

kitchen. “Larayne! Where are you?”
    Remi and Sam hurried after her as she ran down the hallway opening doors, looking behind them.
    Remi, brushing the wet hair from her face, was just starting up the front stairs when she thought she heard something beneath them. She stopped and listened. Sure enough, there was a thump below her. “In here!” she called out, spying a storage door below the stairs. She opened it as Bree came running down the hall.
    Bree almost dove inside to get her cousin out. “Larayne!” she said, helping her to her feet.
    Like Bree, the woman had been bound and gagged. Bree yanked the gag from her mouth. “Are you okay?”
    Larayne nodded.
    Sam cut the ties around her hands and feet, then helped her to stand.
    Bree wrapped her in a hug, then drew her to the couch. “I was so worried about you.”
    â€œHow’d you get here?” Larayne asked.
    â€œMy friends,” she said. “The Fargos. They’re the ones who brought the book.”
    Larayne eyed them, saying, “I can’t believe this. I—” Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sky let loose, rain drumming down on the rooftop. She stood suddenly, her hands shaking. “I need something to drink.”
    â€œSit,” Remi said. “I can get it. Water?”
    â€œI think I need something stronger. But thanks.”
    They followed her down the hall and into the kitchen. She took a glass from the dishwasher, then opened the freezer, pulled out a bottle of vodka, and poured several fingers into the glass.
    Bree gave a tremulous smile. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? We still have to talk to the police.”
    â€œIt’s a very good idea. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be shoved in the cupboard and not know if anyone was going to come looking for you?”
    Remi, acknowledging Bree’s discomfort, put her arm around her. “I can’t imagine what either of you must have been going through, not knowing where the other was. It must have been terrible.”
    â€œIt was,” Bree said, meeting her cousin’s gaze.
    Larayne lowered her glass, seemingly surprised by that statement. “Oh, Bree . . . I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œYou’re the one who was kidnapped. It must have been horrible what happened to you.”
    â€œYou have nothing to be sorry for. I’m only glad that Mr. and Mrs. Fargo found me right away.”
    â€œYes. Very lucky.”
    â€œThe phone?” Remi asked Larayne. “We should probably call the sheriff’s office. They’re going to want to know if you’re okay.”
    â€œThere’s a couple of portable handsets around. Should be one in the hallway by the stairs.”
    Sam left to find it. He was speaking with the dispatcher when he returned to the kitchen. “Yes,” he said into the phone. “I understand. We’ll be here.”
    He disconnected, then set the phone on the counter. “They’re sending someone from investigations out here.”
    Bree nodded, and Remi asked, “What about the suspects? Any word on if they caught them?”
    â€œMaybe we’ll find out more when the investigator gets here.”
    Larayne eyed the vodka bottle, then asked Sam, “Why are they sending them here?”
    â€œThe police? To take our statements and to gather evidence.”
    She seemed shocked at his answer. “What sort of evidence?”
    â€œPrints, I expect.”
    Larayne downed her vodka, then set the glass on the counter. “What a nightmare this has turned out to be.”
    Bree reached out and grasped her cousin’s hand. “They’ll find who did this. Maybe they even have them now.”
    Her cousin’s response was to pour more vodka into her glass. Not that Remi could blame her. After all, she’d just lost her father, and now this. Remi pulled out a chair at the