Missing Witness Read online

  HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS

  EUGENE, OREGON

  The Scripture quotation in chapters 8 and 69 is from 1 Samuel 1:27 and is taken from the New King James Version. Copyright ©1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

  The Scripture quotation in chapter 18 is from 1 Corinthians 15:55 and is taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  The Scripture quotation in chapter 70 is from Jonah 1:3 and is taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by the Inter-national Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

  The Scripture verse later in chapter 70 is paraphrased by the author from Matthew 11:28.

  Cover by Left Coast Design, Portland, Oregon

  Cover photo © Michael Aw/Photodisc Green/Getty Images

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. It is the intent of the author and publisher that all events, locales, organizations, and persons portrayed herein be viewed as fictitious.

  MISSING WITNESS

  Copyright © 2004 by Craig L. Parshall

  Published by Harvest House Publishers

  Eugene, Oregon 97402

  www.harvesthousepublishers.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Parshall, Craig, 1950-

  Missing witness / Craig Parshall.

  p. cm. — (Chambers of justice ; bk. 4)

  ISBN 978-0-7369-1175-7 (pbk.)

  ISBN 978-0-7369-6041-0 (eBook)

  1. Chambers, Will (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Inheritance and succession—Fiction. 3. Seaside resorts—Fiction. 4. North Carolina—Fiction. 5. Smuggling—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3616.A77M57 2004

  813'.54—dc22

  2003020632

  All rights reserved. No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The authorized purchaser has been granted a nontransferable, nonexclusive, and noncommercial right to access and view this electronic publication, and purchaser agrees to do so only in accordance with the terms of use under which it was purchased or transmitted. Participation in or encouragement of piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author’s and publisher’s rights is strictly prohibited.

  Dedication

  To the memory and heroism of my distant ancestor, Elias Parshall—a ship’s captain in the 1700s in the American colonies who defeated an attack by pirates along the West Indies trade route and saved both his ship and his grateful passengers.

  And to my mother and my father, who passed on to me an appreciation for the mysteries of the water—whether the oceans, wild and untamed…or the placid lakes of northern Wisconsin.

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  About the Author

  A Note from the Author

  The Chambers of Justice Series

  1

  November 22, 1718

  Naval Battle near Ocracoke Island off the Coast of North Carolina

  ISAAC JOPPA WAS NOT THINKING ABOUT the criminal charges against him. Not now. Instead, it was a question of living—or dying.

  Down in the belly of the ship—a large, triple-masted man-of-war called Adventure, bristling with heavy cannons—Isaac and the other men could hear the sounds of a ferocious battle being waged up on the deck above them. It would be the bloodiest fifteen minutes of naval warfare ever fought off continental American shores.

  They could hear the explosion of pistols overhead, the mad clanging of swords, and the scuffling of feet, followed by the dull thuds of bodies as they fell. And there were the screams of men—hideous and tortured cries—that rose up from those who were wounded and dying.

  Joppa was one of the few occupants of the pirate ship still remaining down in the hold. He was standing in the stairway—poised to run topside. But he hesitated.

  Though he was only twenty-four years old, he looked older. During the past twelve months, he had lived with the treacherous gang of the most feared pirate in the British colonies. That had transformed him. His time at sea had creased his face, and the sun made his skin dark and leathery—and the terror of the company he had kept had given him a gaunt, harrowing look.

  The young man knew that the captain of the Adventure, Edward Teach, was up on the top deck. From the Carolinas, across the Spanish Main, and all the way to England, Teach was known as the feared and ruthless Blackbeard. Now he was ferociously exchanging blows, slashings, stab wounds, and pistol fire with sailors from Britain’s Royal Navy.

  Joppa had no way of knowing which way the battle above him was turning. But for him, time was running out.

  He clutched at something hidden in his shirt. He quickly pulled out a small ceramic plate—only slightly bigger than a doubloon. He frantically studied the miniature portrait of the blond-haired beauty that was painted on the plate, memorizing her delicate ivory features. If Isaac Joppa was going to die, then he wanted her image to be the last thing that occupied his mind’s eye.

  “You run now, Mister Joppa!”

  The command came from Caesar, a large, muscular African pirate who stood with a lighted torch in his hand. He was half hidden in the shadows.

  Caesar glanced over at the barrels filled with gunpowder that were next to him. Three men—visitors who had stopped at the ship the night before for a drinking party and had stayed the night—now had Caesar surrounded, and they were slowly closing in
, each brandishing a club.

  “You run!” Caesar shouted again.

  That is when the men rushed him.

  Joppa stuffed the little plate inside his sailor’s shirt, quickly tied the top laces tight, and fetched a small, short sword in his right hand for the fight above deck. And then he ran up the stairs. He was not moving like a man, but more like some jungle animal—sprinting, arms flailing—into the middle of the battle.

  But as he launched out of the stairwell like a cannonball, he slipped on the blood that was pooled on the deck. Flipping up in the air and landing on his back, he narrowly missed the sword of a British sailor who was swinging for his neck.

  Joppa kicked the legs out from under the sailor, who tumbled to the ground. Joppa scrambled to his feet.

  On the port side of the ship Edward Teach, still standing tall in his long black coat, with his unkempt hair and wild beard flying, was swinging his sword around him like a crazy man—fending off the leader of the English attack, Lieutenant John Maynard, and several of his mates.

  Maynard charged him, but Teach sliced his cutlass right through Maynard’s sword, breaking it in two. Then the pirate grabbed one of his many pistols from the leather chest belt with his left hand. But before he could fire it point blank at the English officer, a burly sailor in a tartan coat swung his broadsword from behind and landed a powerful blow to the pirate’s neck.

  It would soon be over. Joppa could see that now. He looked frantically for an escape. Several pirates were leaping off the starboard side of the ship like rats off a burning boat. The young man threw down his sword and joined them, leaping into the water. As he did, he heard the English sailors firing pistols at them from the ship.

  When he surfaced, Joppa saw one of the pirates, hit by a pistol ball, begin to sink—then another. He dove down as far as he could and swam through the murky waters of the Ocracoke Inlet as long as he could hold his breath—as the shots rained down into the water.

  When he finally surfaced again, he was disoriented. He looked about quickly—but then he saw the Adventure drifting in his direction. Several English sailors were lined along the starboard side. Their pistols exploded, and shots hit the water—to Joppa’s left and to his right.

  Joppa swam wildly.

  Then a third volley. Somewhere in his back there was a numbness and a burning and searing pain.

  Still struggling to try to swim to shore, he saw planks and debris from Lieutenant Maynard’s battered ship floating around him. And bodies of the pirate crew—several of them—floating face down.

  But now he was dizzy…not sure whether his arms were still working…swallowing water and gagging and coughing.

  More shots were fired. But they seemed distant—and Isaac Joppa knew it was the end.

  The end of his sorrowful fall from grace—his journey of despair. He had plunged from the earlier promise of peace and happiness he once knew, to being counted among the world’s worst villains. He gagged on the briny water. His mind flashed to the final, ugly picture—his graceless death in the Ocracoke Inlet from a pistol ball in the back.

  He only had enough strength to utter a single word.

  “Abigail.”

  And then the dark and cold of the ocean waters closed in all around him.

  2

  The Present

  “RIGHT THERE—IF YOU LOOK CLOSELY—you’ll see Ocracoke Inlet. That’s what we’re looking for—between the two islands.”

  A dozen heads turned and studied the end of the wooded island and the waterway that separated it from the stretch of island far across the inlet. On the right was Ocracoke Island. Off in the distance was the expanse of sand that ultimately led to Cape Lookout, the end of land along the Outer Banks, North Carolina—where the deep waters of the Atlantic Ocean run to the Gulf Stream and beyond.

  “The fighting was fierce—and I’ve told you how the battle ended in gruesome death,” the tour guide continued.

  Twelve faces surveyed the dark blue waves of the Atlantic Ocean—tipped with a few whitecaps—and the coastline of both islands and the water inlet between them.

  It was the bright blue of June, and there was a mild breeze that caused the women on the top deck of the tourist boat to keep one hand on their hats. In the back, the thirteenth passenger was not watching. Attorney Will Chambers had his head back in the sunlight and his eyes were closed behind his sunglasses. He was listening to the college-aged tour guide with only one ear. He was glad to be out of his law office for the summer.

  His wife, Fiona, squinting through her sunglasses and holding her large sun hat to her head, was fixed on every word of the tale of a pirate’s demise.

  “Blackbeard, also known as Edward Teach—usually considered a cool and collected commander with nerves of steel—was simply not himself in that last battle with the English, who were being led by Lieutenant Maynard of the Royal Navy. In fact, you might even say, Blackbeard really lost his head…literally! His head was cut from his shoulders after his defeat, and it was hung from the bow of Lieutenant Maynard’s ship as he sailed victoriously back to the little city of Bath, not far from here.”

  As Fiona was listening intently, she was unconsciously stroking her hands over her pregnant belly, which protruded beneath her sundress.

  “Will,” she said, elbowing her husband, whose face was turned up to the sun like a large, contented housecat. “You really ought to listen to this—it’s fascinating!”

  Will slowly turned to her, and lifted his sunglasses so he could study her face.

  “You know,” he said with a smile, “As a kid, I used to spend summers at the beach house of Uncle Bull and Aunt Georgia, down here on the Outer Banks. I read every pirate book ever written about Blackbeard—and I also heard all the stories that Uncle Bull would tell me.”

  “Oh—so you’re an expert?” Fiona said, whispering with a chuckle.

  With that, he nodded, and with a grin, set his sunglasses back on his nose and leaned back again.

  “So—any questions?” the guide asked.

  An elderly man in the front, who was wearing a baseball cap that said I’d Rather Be Fishing, asked, “Do we know where Blackbeard was born—where he came from?”

  “Well, no one is sure about that one. Any other questions?”

  Will’s head was still leaning back on the deck chair, but his right hand shot up in the air.

  “Yes, the gentleman who’s been napping during my talk—do you have a question?”

  Will slowly sat up straight in his chair. “Isn’t it true that Blackbeard was generally considered to have been born in Bristol, England, but also spent some time in Jamaica in his younger years?”

  “Well—yes—some people who have written about Blackbeard have guessed about it. But there’s still no absolute answer to that.”

  Fiona gave Will another elbow and, trying not to smile, remarked, “Oh, you’re such a showoff!”

  “Now, sir,” the guide asked with a grin, “may I ask you a question—as you appear to be the resident expert on Blackbeard here on the ship?”

  Fiona smirked and turned to Will with her chin perched on her hand. “Good luck, Smarty-pants!”

  Will sat a little straighter. “Sure—fire away.”

  “Well, Blackbeard—like any other pirate—even though he was manning a big ship, would occasionally need provisions to be brought to the ship from shore. I’m wondering if the gentleman who’s the expert on Blackbeard would know what they called the boat that would shuttle provisions from shore to ship?”

  Will’s smirk was slowly vanishing as Fiona, facing him with a broad smile, cleared her throat audibly. “Well, Admiral—I think you’ve got me there. What is the boat called?”

  The guide, stretching his arms out for full comic effect, replied, “It was called a bum boat.”

  A ripple of chuckles broke out among the tourists.

  And then the guide went in for the punch line.

  “Which is now what we call a tourist boat full of experts who
think they know more than the tour guide!”

  Raucous laughter now broke out among all of the passengers.

  Will bowed his head a little and chuckled. “Two points.”

  A young mother with a child on her lap raised her hand to ask a question.

  “What about the treasure? We all hear about the pirates having buried treasure. Did Blackbeard have any? And have they found it?”

  “Well, that’s the question that everybody likes to ask. The truth is—they’ve looked in all kinds of different places from the coast, into Bath and the Pamlico Inlet, all the way up to Elizabeth City. As of yet, nobody’s found it. And I suspect nobody ever will.”

  With that, the guide thanked his audience and then strolled to the metal stairs that led to the wheelhouse, where he joined the pilot.

  Fiona snuggled up to Will and hooked her arm through his.

  “Well, Mr. Chambers, do you agree with what he said about the buried treasure?”

  “Well, he’s certainly right about that. I don’t suppose anybody’s ever going to find it, even if it did exist. Then there are some experts who believe that a guy like Blackbeard was not exactly your cautious investor who would have set aside his treasure for a rainy day. So, he probably would have squandered it—spent it all.”

  Will helped his wife to her feet. They stretched and sauntered over to the railing of the ferry to watch the ocean waves roll past the ship below, and to watch the swirling seagulls that followed the ship like airborne scavengers.

  “It does make an interesting mystery, though, doesn’t it?” Will said, leaning over the railing and gazing out over the ocean.

  “Speaking of great mysteries,” Fiona said with a wry smile, “are you really going to spend a whole summer down here with me at the beach? Are you really going to try to run your law office remotely from Cape Hatteras?”

  Will turned to face her and put his nose directly against hers. His face took on a serious expression. “Are you kidding? The doctor said you had a problem pregnancy—I take that very seriously. My number one job is to babysit you and make sure you relax, do as little work as possible—and protect yourself and our baby. Especially now that the trial against the government of the Sudan is over—I can really focus on my beautiful blushing bride and our ever-expanding family!”