Locating a shipping office, they overnighted their water samples to a NUMA lab facility in Seattle, then grabbed a late dinner. Walking back to their motel, they took a detour to the dock to retrieve a few items from the boat. Standing on the bridge, Summer found herself staring at the Ventura, moored in front of them. The police had finished their investigation and the boat sat empty, a silent blanket of morbidity hanging over it. Dirk stepped up from belowdecks, noticing his sister’s concentration.

“Can’t do anything to bring them back,” he said. “It’s been a long day. Let’s head to the motel and turn in.”

“Just thinking about that message on the footwell and what the captain was trying to say. I wonder if it was a warning of some sort.”

“ They died quickly. We don’t even know if it was a last message.”

Summer thought about the inscription again and shook her head. It meant something more than it appeared to, of that much she was certain. Beyond that, she had no clue. Somehow, she told herself, she would figure it out.

Chapter 6

6

THE RESTAURANT’S DECOR WOULD NEVER BE FEATURED in Architectural Digest, Dirk thought, but the smoked salmon and eggs certainly rated five stars. He grinned at the moose head protruding above Summer as he swallowed another bite of breakfast. The moose was only one of a dozen stuffed animal heads mounted on the wall. Each seemed to be staring at Summer through hard glassy eyes.

“All this roadkill is enough to make a person turn vegan,” Summer grimaced, shaking her head at the bared snout of a grizzly bear.

“Kitimat’s taxidermist must be the richest guy in town,” Dirk replied.

“Probably owns the motel.”

She sipped at a cup of coffee as the door to the café opened and a tall man entered the restaurant. He strode directly to their table as Dirk and Summer recognized him as the agitated man they’d encountered on the dock the day before.

“May I please join you?” he asked in a nonthreatening manner.

“Please do,” Dirk said, pushing out a chair. He stuck his hand out at the stranger. “I’m Dirk Pitt. This is my sister, Summer.”

The man’s brow rose a fraction as he gazed at Summer.

“Glad to know you,” he replied, shaking hands. “My name is Trevor Miller. My older brother, Steve, was captain of the Ventura.”

“We’re sorry for what happened yesterday,” Summer replied. She could tell by the look in the man’s eyes that he was deeply shaken by the loss of his brother.

“He was a good man,” Trevor said, his gaze turning distant. He then looked at Summer and offered a sheepish grin. “My apologies for the gruff behavior yesterday. I had just received word of my brother’s death over the marine radio and was a little upset and confused.”