It went pretty much as Zack had expected. The Hickman kid had to flex his muscles. The other three had folded, and Zack expected Carl to get his money from them the next morning. But Hickman had to prove he was smarter, braver, and far superior to some dinky island sheriff.

From his place on the dock, Zack watched the rented boat putt along toward the lobster traps. He was already on the wrong side of the law, Zack mused, nibbling on sunflower seeds. Boating after dark without running lights. That would cost him.

But it was nothing to the grand that the little defiance was going to cost the college boy’s father.

He expected the kid was going to give him some trouble when he hauled him in. Which meant they’d both be spending a few hours in the station house that night. One of them behind bars.

Well, lessons learned, Zack decided, lowering his binoculars and reaching down for his flashlight as the boy began to haul up a pot.

The scream was high and girlish, and gave Zack a hell of a jolt. He switched on his light, shot the bright beam of it across the water. A light fog crept over the surface, so that the boat seemed to bob in smoke. The boy stood, the trap gripped in both hands, the look on his face as he stared into it one of sheer horror.

Before Zack could call out, the boy flung the trap high and wide. Even as it splashed into the water, he was tumbling in.

“Oh, well, hell,” Zack muttered, peeved at the prospect of ending his workday soaking wet. He stepped to the end of the dock, scooped up a life preserver. The kid was doing more screaming than swimming, but he was making some progress toward shore.

“Here you go, Steve.” Zack tossed the preserver in. “Head this way. I don’t want to have to come in after you.”

“Help me.” The boy flailed, swallowed water, choked. But he managed to grab the flotation. “They’re eating my face!”

“Almost there.” Zack knelt down, held out a hand. “Come on up. You’re still in one piece.”

“My head! My head!” Steve slipped and slithered onto the dock, then lay there on his belly, shuddering. “I saw my head in the trap. They were eating my face!”

“Your head’s still on your shoulders, son.” Zack hunkered down. “Catch your breath. Had yourself a hallucination, that’s all. Been drinking a bit, haven’t you? That, and some guilt got to you.”

“I saw . . . I saw.” He sat up, laid shaking hands on his face to make certain all his parts were there, then began to shake in stupendous relief.