BooksBarbecue
Back Deception Cove Save as PDF
Chapters (78)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Prologue
  7. One
  8. Two
  9. Three
  10. Four
  11. Five
  12. Six
  13. Seven
  14. Eight
  15. Nine
  16. Ten
  17. Eleven
  18. Twelve
  19. Thirteen
  20. Fourteen
  21. Fifteen
  22. Sixteen
  23. Seventeen
  24. Eighteen
  25. Nineteen
  26. Twenty
  27. Twenty-One
  28. Twenty-Two
  29. Twenty-Three
  30. Twenty-Four
  31. Twenty-Five
  32. Twenty-Six
  33. Twenty-Seven
  34. Twenty-Eight
  35. Twenty-Nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-One
  38. Thirty-Two
  39. Thirty-Three
  40. Thirty-Four
  41. Thirty-Five
  42. Thirty-Six
  43. Thirty-Seven
  44. Thirty-Eight
  45. Thirty-Nine
  46. Forty
  47. Forty-One
  48. Forty-Two
  49. Forty-Three
  50. Forty-Four
  51. Forty-Five
  52. Forty-Six
  53. Forty-Seven
  54. Forty-Eight
  55. Forty-Nine
  56. Fifty
  57. Fifty-One
  58. Fifty-Two
  59. Fifty-Three
  60. Fifty-Four
  61. Fifty-Five
  62. Fifty-Six
  63. Fifty-Seven
  64. Fifty-Eight
  65. Fifty-Nine
  66. Sixty
  67. Sixty-One
  68. Sixty-Two
  69. Sixty-Three
  70. Sixty-Four
  71. Sixty-Five
  72. Sixty-Six
  73. Sixty-Seven
  74. Sixty-Eight
  75. Acknowledgments
  76. Discover More
  77. About the Author
  78. Also by Owen Laukkanen

He nudged Lucy back toward the twin trailers and the road beyond, and together they ran fast across the grass and between the trailers to where the Suburban sat waiting in the middle of the street. The engine was running, lights on. Mason dragged Lucy to the driver’s side and hustled her into the cabin. Climbed in after her and shifted into drive and peeled away with the dog toward the harbor.

Forty-One

Forty-One

Mason followed the sound of a little marine diesel as he navigated the government pier and the spindly wharves on the water beneath. He’d left the Suburban parked at the foot of the pier, but there was no way to avoid it; Jess would be itching to leave, with or without him and Lucy, and he could only hope he’d bought enough time for a clean getaway, the driver still mucking about five or six blocks behind.

The wharf was three fingers, lit with lemon-yellow sodium lights. A handful of boats, and none of them looking seaworthy but one, tied up halfway down the last finger. Barely forty feet long, a rounded-off stern with paint peeling from the hull, a little cockpit where you’d stand to work the trolling lines. Ahead of the cockpit was a large box with a hatch on top that Mason surmised must access the fishhold, and beyond that was the wheelhouse, a squat, salt-stained structure that didn’t look much bigger than Mason’s living quarters in the state penitentiary. The wheelhouse windows were salt streaked; there was a tag taped to one, an outdated halibut license, and on the bow faded block letters read BETTER DAYS, and if that wasn’t a misnomer, Mason figured he didn’t know the meaning of the word.

But the engine was chugging, the stack belching black smoke. This was Ty’s boat, and Jess was waiting. She stepped out from the wheelhouse as Mason and Lucy hurried down the dock. Took in Mason, and then Lucy, and he thought he could see she was glad they’d both made it.

But there wasn’t any time for happy reunions. Jess took the shotgun from Mason and laid it on the fishhold. Then she reached over and helped him lift Lucy aboard, the dog grunting and struggling as though the whole operation were a personal affront to her dignity.

Then Jess climbed over the boat’s gunwale and onto the dock. She bent down to free the tie-up line amidships and gestured toward the bow.

“Cut her loose and then push the bow out,” she told him. “Don’t get left behind. I’m not coming back for you.”

Mason did as instructed. Loosened the bow line as Jess freed the stern. He chucked the rope over the troller’s raised bulwarks, then leaned on the boat and pushed, swinging the bow out from its berth as Jess climbed aboard and went into the wheelhouse.