THE SHADOW AT THE TOP OF THE RAMP DRIFTED into the light, revealing an ox of a man with a thick unkempt beard that brushed his chest. He stared at Summer through fiery eyes, his lips turning up in a slight grin as he waved the truncheon casually in her direction.

Summer froze on the gangplank, then subconsciously backpedaled as her eyes darted from the brute to the murky waters below. Dirk had struck the water hard, and he had yet to surface. She felt the ramp shake beneath her feet and turned to see the dock guard sprinting up behind her. The Aleut security guard was uniformed and clean-shaven, appearing to be a safer prospect than the heathen on the ship. Summer quickly took a step toward him.

“My brother is in the water. He’s drowning,” she yelled, rushing to move past the guard. He quickly pulled the Glock automatic pistol from a side holster and leveled it at Summer’s thin midsection.

“You have trespassed on private property,” he replied in a monotone voice that was short on mercy. “You shall be held in custody until company officials can be contacted in the morning.”

“Let me take her into custody,” the shipboard brute barked. “I’ll show her some real trespassing.” He laughed with a bellow, spraying a shower of spittle across his beard.

“This is a shore facility security matter, Johnson,” the guard said, eyeing the ship’s watchman with disdain.

“The engine died on our boat. We just came looking for help,” Summer pleaded. “My brother . . .”

She looked over the side and cringed. The waters beneath the gangplank had turned flat, and there was no sign of Dirk.

The guard motioned with his gun for Summer to march down the ramp. Following behind, he turned over his shoulder and growled at Johnson.

“Fish that man out of the water, if you can find him. If he’s still alive, then bring him to the guard station.” He cut the man a sharp stare, then added, “For the sake of your own hide, you better hope he is still alive.”

The ox grunted and begrudgingly strolled down the gangplank behind them. Marched along the dock, Summer tried in vain to spot Dirk in the water. Further pleas to the guard went unheeded. Walking beneath an overhead lamp, she saw a coldness in his eyes that gave her pause. While perhaps not a sadist like the ship’s watch, he appeared more than capable of pulling the trigger on an uncooperative captive. A blow of disheartenment seemed to strike Summer, and she plodded forward with her head low, awash in helplessness. She suspected that Dirk had probably been unconscious when he hit the water. Several minutes had since elapsed, and she now choked on the bitter reality. He was gone, and there was nothing she could do about it.