she wouldn’t have left Race Point. He’d nearly forced her back into Nathaniel’s arms. And in doing so, he’d jeopardized her safety even more.
He fisted his hands and pounded his legs. “Why take her? Why not me instead?”
It was the same question he’d asked God after Ike had gotten shot. The same question he’d lived with for years. He’d failed to protect the people he loved. He was the one who deserved to die. Not them.
“Some things are beyond our control.” His brother’s words whispered through his head again. “You can’t be perfect. No one is. That’s why we need God.”
He could admit he was far from perfect. But that hadn’t stopped him from aiming for perfection in his job. He supposed he’d thought that by protecting others he could make up for losing Ike. But he hadn’t. He’d only failed all over again.
“That’s why you need me.” Instead of Ike’s voice in his head, this time he had the distinct impression that God was reaching out to him. After the way he’d ignored, and yes, been angry with God over the years, the thought that the Almighty wanted him was too powerful to comprehend. If he’d been a more emotional man, he may have even wept at the realization that God still cared about him.
“I can’t go on without you,” Tom whispered, finally lifting his eyes to the ocean where Victoria had drowned. Only the soft echo of “you need me” kept him kneeling at the end of the dock instead of jumping into the water, swimming out as far as he could, and letting himself sink to the bottom so that he could die too.
He didn’t want to live anymore, not without hope. And the only hope—perhaps the real hope he’d been missing all along—was found in God. At least that’s what Mom had claimed. The fact that God still loved him in spite of imperfections and failures was all he had to cling to. If God still wanted him, then he couldn’t let go of life yet.
“I don’t know what my pathetic life is going to look like now, but I need you to help me survive.”
For an endless moment he waited. He wasn’t sure for what. But finally, even though his chest burned with grief, he stood. He walked to Victoria’s shoes. Should he give them to her mother as a last remembrance?
He bent to retrieve them but halted. They were pointed back to the shore, as if she’d taken them off so that she could run away from the dock. One was flipped over, revealing a damp section at the heel.
Had she been in the boat and somehow escaped?
A large wave pushed against the dock, rocking it slightly. At a soft thump against the weathered boards, he got down onto his stomach and attempted to peer under the dock, dreading what he might find and praying it wasn’t a body—her body.
At the sight of an oar—actually two oars—he breathed again. The swell of heavier waves and the rise in the water level was causing the oars to lightly bump the underside of the dock.
Tom hopped to his feet and stared with narrowed eyes at the cutter down shore. Had Victoria somehow freed herself from her captor, thrown the oars in the water, and then run away, leaving her shoes behind?
All of the evidence added up that way. Perhaps that’s why the horse was gone. Butch had headed off in search of Victoria.
A thin beam of hope broke through the darkness inside Tom, but he tried not to let it shine too brightly. In his desperate state, he might be chasing a false lead. He had to stay calm and examine every detail. If Victoria was alive, she might be on the run from Butch. She might still be in danger. If he could track her before Butch found her, he might have a chance of saving her.
With the shoes in one hand, he examined the sand for her footprints. After probing closely, he finally found faint steps leading away, steps that appeared to be about the size of her feet. He followed them until he came to the weeded plot that led past the houses. He guessed she would have run to town to try to get help. But once on the road, he saw no evidence of her footprints either in the gravel or in the long grass on the side of the road.
He peered toward North Truro, hoping to see her bonnet, her