Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“You think?”
“I think it’s the best thing you’ve ever told me.” She picks her tea back up. “Get the girl. Get the fence. Be done with the rest of it. I’m so proud of you, baby. I’m so proud.”
And I’m happy. In the dream I’m as happy as I’ve ever been, sitting at a card table in a kitchen that smells like powdered creamer, my dead mother telling me to go get the ordinary life. And somewhere under all of it a phone is ringing.
A phone is ringing…
I surface.
The room is dark and Josie’s warm weight feels so very good against my side. The phone is going off on the nightstand, the screen throwing light at the ceiling, and for just a moment, I’m in two places at once… my mother’s kitchen and my dark bedroom.
My eyes slide to the bedside clock. Three fourteen a.m.
Nobody calls at three o’clock in the morning with good news.
I’m instantly awake, my mind hyper-alert as my hand closes on the phone.
Unknown number, local area code.
Josie stirs as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed.
“Finn?” she asks sleepily, but I ignore her, instead connecting the call.
“Marlowe.”
“Mr. Marlowe, this is Petty Officer David Reyes with Coast Guard Sector Puget Sound. I apologize for the hour. I’m calling as I have you listed as the registered owner of a vessel named The Quartermaster.”
The bottom drops out from under me, and I lurch off the bed.
“Finn?” Josie says again, this time her voice clear and urgent.
I turn to her, put the phone on speaker and hold it between us.
My hand isn’t steady but miraculously, my voice seems to be. “Yes… that’s right. Is everything okay?”
“Sir, I’m really sorry but there’s been some sort of accident. At approximately oh-two-twenty this morning we received a distress beacon from your vessel’s position in the strait. A cutter on patrol diverted to respond and by the time our crew reached the location, there had been an obvious explosion on board. There was very little of the vessel left to recover.”
Josie’s hand slaps over her mouth, a tiny sound of distress squeaking out.
I can’t speak. The dream’s still on me, my mother’s voice, I’m so proud, baby, and now this man is telling me The Quartermaster’s gone.
“Mr. Marlowe? Are you with me?”
“I’m here.” My voice comes out wrong. “Was there—who was on it? Was there anybody—”
“Sir, that’s the part I want to get to.” A breath on the line. “Our crew recovered one survivor from the water. A male. He was conscious enough to grab a navigation buoy and hang on, and that’s almost certainly what kept him alive until we reached him. He’s been transported to Harborview Medical Center.”
Marcus.
“That’s Marcus Whitfield. How bad is he?” I manage to ask, my voice gruff with anxiety.
“I’m not sure, sir. He has some burns and I think one of the medics said his wrist was broken.”
Josie is out of the bed standing before me, and I’m not sure how she even got there.
“Sir… we’re obviously going to need you to come do a formalized interview, but we need to know if there were any other people on board?”
“One other,” I rasp, and Josie slips into my side, putting an arm around me. “A woman. Her name’s Connie Modesto. You’re looking for her, right?”
“Yes, sir. We have people searching the water not only for survivors but for evidence as to what caused the explosion.”
Christ, hopefully that figurine is at the bottom of the sea floor.
“Sir, I’m sorry. I wish I had more for you, but the Coast Guard Investigative Services is handling this, and we need you to come in now for an interview.”
I close my eyes as he rattles off their address at Pier 36. Josie’s forehead comes down against my shoulder.
“Do you have any idea what caused the explosion?” I finally think to ask.
“Sir, we can’t speculate on cause. There’ll be an investigator at the hospital who’ll want to speak with Mr. Whitfield and the investigation will determine what we’re dealing with. I’d ask you not to draw conclusions until—”
“It didn’t blow up on its own. Those engines are maintained like surgical instruments. Boats don’t just explode.”
“I understand your frustration, sir. But can you please confirm you’ll come down for an interview so I can let the officer in charge know?”
I listen again as he gives me the man’s name and gets my verbal commitment. “Yeah… let me get dressed, then I’ll be in.”
“The sooner the better,” he says.
Fuck him and his sooner. I’m heading to the hospital first to see Marcus.
I lower the phone and my eyes meet Josie’s. They’re sad and scared. “They’ll find Connie,” she says reassuringly.
I pull her into my arms, kiss the top of her head. “You and I both know they won’t but thank you for trying to be positive.”