I was staring at those pieces and grieving for Jean Philippe when the Lord slid over and leaned against the raft edge. His mop of hair was wet and shiny, and his dark beard was now quite thick.

“Did you know about Jean Philippe?” I whispered.

“I know all things.”

“How could you let him take his life? Why didn’t you talk him out of it?”

He looked me straight in the eyes. “Why didn’t you?”

I began shaking with rage. “Me? I couldn’t! I didn’t know! It was something he decided to do on his own!”

“That’s right,” the Lord said, softly. “He decided to do it on his own.”

I glared at him then, this haughty, deluded stranger who enjoyed acting as if he manipulated the world. At that moment, I felt nothing but contempt.

“If you were really God,” I seethed, “you would have stopped him.”

He looked to the sea and shook his head.

“God starts things,” he said. “Man stops them.”

Land

LeFleur sped down the island’s main road in his jeep. The car with Sprague and the man in the blue blazer followed. Behind them was a truck carrying the raft.

Again, LeFleur’s cell rang.

“Yeah, Katrina?” he barked, expecting his office.

“Inspector, this is Arthur Kirsh with the Miami Herald. We spoke the other night?”

LeFleur exhaled. He didn’t need this now.

“We didn’t really speak,” LeFleur corrected him. “And I don’t want—”

“We have it confirmed that a life raft from the Galaxy was found on Montserrat, and that you were involved in its discovery.”

“That’s not true! I just got a call.”

“So it has been discovered?”

Damn it, LeFleur thought. Why did these guys always play tricks?

“If you want information, you should speak to the police commissioner.”

“Were there any remains? Of any passengers?”

“Like I said, Mr. Kirsh, call the police commissioner.”

“You’re aware that the Sextant people are sending a team to your island?”

“Who’s that?”

“Sextant Capital. Jason Lambert’s company. And if I were to arrive there tomorrow, where would I find you?”

“Find the police commissioner,” LeFleur snapped. “And don’t call me again.”

He hung up and checked his watch. Three o’clock. Three hours later than he’d told Rom he’d meet him. It couldn’t be helped. LeFleur first had to stop at headquarters and explain to Sprague why he hadn’t immediately called him with the news (“It was Sunday, Lenny!”) and how he’d discovered the raft in the first place (“A drifter found it in Marguerita Bay.”) Sprague wasn’t happy. He said reporters would want to talk to that drifter, so LeFleur had better produce him quickly.

“Don’t screw this up, Jarty. It could make a big difference to Montserrat.”

“What do you mean?”