“Anything,” Gannon said.

“You’re unbelievable,” Ruby said.

“How so?”

“How the hell are you so confident?”

Gannon shrugged.

“I don’t know. Good genes? A happy upbringing in the home?”

Ruby laughed.

“You know, I almost believe you.”

“Believe what?”

“That you’re not shitting bricks, too.”

It was Gannon’s turn to laugh. Then he pointed out through the breeze.

“Hey, look,” he said.

There was an island, faint in the hazy blue up ahead.

“You see there? That’s Pimlico Island. That’s at the tip of Eleuthera,” Gannon said.

“Home?” Ruby said, smiling.

“Yep,” Gannon said, smiling back. “We’re almost home.”

75

Instead of going straight to his berth in Davis Head, Gannon had Little Jorge go a few miles farther south down the beach on the island’s Caribbean side.

The dock they finally chugged in toward was very old and had several missing boards. It belonged to a place called the Ocean School that was just a two-and-a-half-mile walk to Gannon’s house.

“Are you sure you want to go in alone?” Ruby said.

“Don’t worry,” he said, smiling. “You guys go back up with Little Jorge to Davis Head and get some dinner. I’ll come up to get you in my truck after.”

“No, really, Mike. Why don’t I come with you? Hell, why don’t we all just go?” Ruby said.

Gannon looked up at her from where he was throwing a couple of things into a knapsack. She’d gotten some sun on the crossing, her skin glowing. He remembered holding her hand as they ran through the cold dirty subway what seemed like a lifetime ago. And how cute she looked in the headset she’d put on in the prop plane.

Pretty Woman, he thought.

“No, Jessica,” he said. “I got this.”

“But,” she said.

“No buts. You head to dinner. Naval orders,” Gannon said.

“Wait,” Ruby said. “I thought I gave those.”

“Only in the US,” Gannon said, holding up a finger. “We’re in the Bahamas now. You heard Little Jorge, right? I’m the captain down here.”

Gannon watched until they made the wide turn in the water before he came in off the beach toward a cluster of low one-story buildings. A gypsy cab came around a bend as he came out of the school’s driveway onto Sherman Highway. It was dark enough now to notice the glow of its brake lights as it slowed. But Gannon waved it on, and its brake lights went off, and it kept going.

When he got to his cul-de-sac, the first thing Gannon did was to go off into the brush. He reached into his bag and stood scrutinizing his house and the other three of his neighbors’ houses with binoculars.

Two of the bungalows belonged to American families that only sporadically came down and were often deserted. The last of his neighbors was a cranky retired Canadian doctor who was usually around, but he’d gone back to Toronto to take care of a sick relative two months before.

Gannon knew he was probably just being paranoid as he scanned the front and side of his house. He didn’t think it was possible for them to catch up with him this quickly.