Lumsden hung up.

"Your man?"

He shrugged. "I don't know what that was about."

"Probably nothing. I'm sorry about your friend, Martin."

He was surprised to feel tears threatening. "Thanks." He swallowed hard. "Qurban was a good man. A great agent. I don't know where I'd be today without him. He sold my first book, slapped a check for twenty grand right in my hand. You know what that kind of money looks like to a twenty-five-year-old kid, busting his hump for minimum wage, trying to pay off student loans? He got a bidding war going for Witch Hunter, you know that? It was a hot property, Sheila. New-York-real-estate hot. I might have had a career without him, but not like I have. And I'm glad his family's safe. They've had me over for dinner more times than I can count."

He shook his head, and a tear did fall. He swiped it away quickly. "It hurts like hell to know I won't ever hear him call me his favorite fucking writer again. I know that sounds egotistical, but it's not like that at all. He probably said it to all his clients."

"Oh, I don't know about that." Sheila squeezed his hand harder, genuine sympathy in her eyes. "You grow on people, Martin."

He chuckled softly. "Like Doc Mulligan's sow."

Just then the ferry emerged from behind the tree cover and started its wide turn to back into the dock.

He nodded toward it. Wiped his eyes again. "About fucking time."

The ferry slipped into the dock and the crew hopped out, mooring quickly and efficiently. A moment later the walk-ons filed out, passengers rolling their bicycles, some with large backpacks on their shoulders, others dressed well, likely returning from work.

The Lexus was five cars from the dock and neither of them could see what was happening when the dog began yapping excitedly. Voices rose to match it. Then a vicious snarl, the sound a dog made when it reached the end of its patience. A woman cried out in pain.

"What the hell's going on down there?" Sheila asked.

"Dunno. I guess we'll find out."

Finally, the vehicles started rolling up the hill and within a few minutes Martin put the Lexus in park near the deck doors in the middle of the ferry. They got out and headed up to the top deck, neither of them wanting to spend another moment in the hot car.

A silver-haired, deeply tanned man dressed in a pristine white captain's uniform stood over a young woman cradling her little gray poodle in her lap. The dog was shivering, its eyes bugged out in unresolved terror. The captain wrapped some gauze around the woman's bleeding hand, where her dog had apparently bit her.

She thanked the captain. As he passed Martin and Sheila, he flashed them a quick raise of his eyebrows. A female crewmember met him with a plate of what looked like chocolate brownies. He took one and bit into it as he rose the steps to the wheelhouse.