The obvious weapons were the antique fireplace tools sitting on the hearth. The poker would do the most damage in close-quarters fighting. He could stab, poke, or strike with it. Rafter found his glances returning to it often. There was also a nearby bookcase filled with hardcover novels. Serious damage could be done to a cranium with a well-placed strike from a thick book.

Of course there were always his fists, elbows, and feet. But most of all, the weapon he coveted the most was the derringer hidden somewhere on Annie’s body.

Annie possessed a figure that made other women jealous, and made men’s necks kink up from craning too far. And yet she was so modest she rarely wore tight or revealing clothes. Today she wore jeans and an oversized t-shirt. The t-shirt hung down over her butt. Rafter assumed the small side arm hid under her waistband near the small of her back.

But the derringer might as well be locked up in a gun safe. With their hands and feet tied, they would never gain access to the weapon.

Rafter once read a book on survival written by an ex-Navy SEAL named Cade Courtley. The book covered multiple survival scenarios, including one on home invasions, complete with a section on escaping restraints.

Although never an easy task, ropes can often be overcome by a sharp object or friction. Offering a stronger and cheaper restraint, plastic flex cuffs raise the degree of difficulty by quite a bit. Courtley stated in his book that two methods existed for defeating flex cuffs: the Shim method and the Break method.

The Shim method required finding an object to wedge into the latch. The tiny plastic teeth could be worn down or broken over time. A shim in the tie slot can theoretically prevent the one-way catch from activating, allowing escape.

The Break method consists of ramming the flex cuffs against something hard. Flex cuffs can snap if jammed violently against an unyielding surface. In a pinch, the ex-SEAL said to use your own chest as a striking surface.

Rafter didn’t doubt the veracity of the escape methods. But he couldn’t try either method as long as Iris kept close watch on him, and as long as Arcadias and Damien kept coming into the parlor.

I should just do nothing. The police are here now. And a SWAT team will be close behind. Let the professionals do their job.

But from his past experience, Rafter knew if Arcadias refused to negotiate, a SWAT team would shout, “Search warrant!” and break down the door with a battering ram. They’d pour into the house like an ocean at high tide, throwing flash-bang grenades and tear gas grenades, and pointing MP5 submachine guns at anyone who dared to move.

Rescue operations amidst that much chaos can and do go wrong. Rafter looked at his wife. His eyes misted over. He couldn’t let such a high-risk scenario happen. One misplaced bullet, one freakish ricochet could kill Annie, not to mention Ned or Keith Jepson. He had to find a way to get free and diffuse the situation himself.

Annie caught his eye and winked at him. For some reason her playful wink reminded him of their honeymoon at Myrtle Beach, and a promise he once made to her.

Chapter 38

Myrtle Beach—38 months prior

Sunset had given way to twilight and now darkness fell on the Grand Strand—a sixty mile stretch of beach in South Carolina. Jon and Annie walked hand in hand along the beach, alone for the most part. The popular beach had emptied out around sunset when a short-lived thunderstorm moved in.

A strong breeze had all but chased most of the thunderheads away. And now a full moon bathed the sand and ocean waves in silvery moonbeams. As he walked with his bride, Rafter listened to the relaxing sound of surf relentlessly pounding sand, and seagulls crying as they circled the surf looking for small fish.

Rafter breathed in the air tinged with salt spray. A smile worked its way across his face. It felt good to be alive.

They’d spent the bulk of the day inside their rented beach house, doing what honeymooners are supposed to do behind closed doors. They finally ventured out around seven pm and grabbed something to eat at a restaurant on the Boardwalk. After filling their stomachs with seafood, they rode the nearby SkyWheel—a 187 foot tall Ferris wheel, complete with glass-enclosed, air-conditioned gondolas that light up at night.

“You picked a great place to honeymoon, Babe,” Rafter said. “What a beautiful evening.”

Annie squeezed his hand. “Myrtle Beach is a special place. I can see why so many people vacation here.”

“It is a great place to fall in love,” Rafter added.

“Um, how it works Jon, is you’re supposed to have already fallen in love before you get married.”

Rafter laughed. “Don’t worry, Annie, I don’t have it backwards. I fell in love with you the instant I met you.”

“Are you serious? I was a mess, lying in the road, beaten to within an inch of my life and covered in mud.”

“No lie, it’s the truth. Kneeling there in the drenching rain, my heart skipped the moment I turned you over.”

“You’re heart only skipped because my appearance frightened you.”

“No, that’s not the case at all. I knew a beautiful princess hid underneath all the mud and bruises.”

Annie kissed him on the cheek. “That’s a sweet thing to say, Jon. It was love at first sight for me too. When I finally woke up and found myself in your house, I saw you standing in the candlelight; I thought you were George Clooney at first. I thought I was dreaming.”

“And then you figured out you were only hallucinating.”

“I admit I was a little groggy from all the knots on my head. But I wasn’t delusional.”

“People say I look like Clooney. But I don’t see the resemblance.”

“It’s only a slight resemblance. Actually, I think you’re more handsome than George, and you don’t look as old.”

“You’re really buttering me up, Babe.”

Annie nestled in closer to him as they strolled in the sand, arm in arm. “I’m telling the truth, Jon. You’re quite the catch. I thank God every day for placing you in my life. I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re my miracle man.”

They fell silent again as they walked, content to listen to the Atlantic Ocean’s rhythmical advance and retreat. The crashing surf hypnotized Rafter little by little.

“We should probably turn back, Annie. We’ve left our beach house far behind us.” The words had barely left his mouth when Annie started hopping around on one leg. “Are you okay?”

Annie stopped hopping after a bit. She looked down at the sand. “I stepped on something hard and sharp,” she said.

Rafter pulled his phone from his pocket and activated the built-in flashlight. He shined the light onto the sand near Annie’s feet. The light spotlighted something dark and foreign. He squatted down and examined it closely. “It’s definitely not a seashell. It looks like some kind of weird rock.”

Annie dropped down beside him. She picked up the object and inspected it under his phone light. “I think I know what this is. I believe it’s a fulgurite.”

“What is a fulgurite?”

“Haven’t you seen the movie Sweet Home Alabama?”

“I’m afraid I missed that one,” Rafter said.

“Well, it is a chic flick. So I’m not surprised you haven’t seen it. Anyway, if lightning strikes the right kind of dirt or sand, and if the lightning burns at just the right temperature, it can cause the sand grains to fuse together into a glass-like tube,” Annie explained. “This fulgurite is fresh. It probably formed earlier this evening during the thunderstorm.”

“Can I see it?”

Annie handed it over to him. Rafter took the fulgurite in his hands. The bumpy, tube-shaped object looked to be about six inches wide by eight inches long by two inches thick. “So is a fulgurite like petrified lightning?”