“I believe you.”

“And I’m not crazy. I know I sound it at times, but I’m not.”

Dominique looks away. “I know. Mick, I really think we should get going, the police were watching the house all day. The keys should be under the passenger cushion in the pilothouse. Would you mind?”

Mick heads for the cabin. She waits until he is out of sight before removing the gun from her jacket pocket. She stares at the weapon, recalling Foletta’s words of warning. I’m sure the resident will be quite charming, wanting to impress you.

The engines sputter to life.

She stares at the weapon, hesitates, then tosses the gun overboard.

God, help me …

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

NOVEMBER 29, 2012
GULF OF MEXICO

5:14 A. M.

The forty-eight-foot trawler Jolly Roger continues its westward trek beneath a starry morning sky. Dominique is in the pilot’s chair, struggling to stay awake, her eyelids getting heavy. Exhausted, she lays her head back on the vinyl seat and again forces her attention on the paperback. After rereading the same passage a fourth time, she decides to allow her bloodshot eyes a moment’s reprieve.

Just a few seconds. Don’t fall asleep …

The book drops from her hand, the noise startling her awake. She sucks in a cool breath of air and stares at the darkened passageway leading to the quarters below deck. Mick is somewhere inside, sleeping in the shadows. The thought both comforts and frightens her. Despite the fact that the boat is on autopilot, she has refused sleep. Alone in the pilothouse, her imagination has allowed her innermost fears to get the best of her.

This is ridiculous. He’s not Ted Bundy. He’d never hurt you …

She notices the horizon turning gray at her back. Fear has convinced her that sleeping during the day is her best option. She decides to wake Mick at dawn.

“Jolly Roger, come in. Alpha-Zulu-three-nine-six, calling Jolly Roger, come in please—”

Dominique grabs the radio transmitter. “Jolly Roger, go ahead Alpha-Zulu.”

“How are you holding up, Doll?”

“Slow and steady. What’s wrong? You sound upset.”

“The Feds shut SOSUS down. They claim it’s just a technical problem, but I don’t believe a word of it.”

“Damn. Why do you think—”

“Ahhhhh—Ahhhhhhh—” Mick’s screams send Dominique’s heart leaping from her chest. “Oh, Jesus, Ead, I’ll call you back—”

“Was that screaming?”

“It’s okay, I’ll call you right back.”

She clicks off the radio and runs down the shallow stairwell, flipping on light switches as she goes.

Mick is sitting up in the corner bunk like a frightened, confused animal, his black eyes wide and shimmering from the bare bulb swinging by his head.

“Mom?” The voice is throaty. Terrified.

“Mick, it’s okay—”

“Mom? Who is that? I can’t see you.”