Page 102 of The Newcomer
“Turn your head to the side,” the FBI agent ordered. She held out her phone and began clicking the shutter, moving slowly around Letty’s body, photographing it from a dozen different angles.
“All done,” she said, after what seemed like an eternity to Letty.
Joe worked quickly, freeing her from the chains. She sat up and moved from the bow to the bench seat Vikki had vacated. He handed her a clean wet towel with the Murmuring Surf’s logo stamped in green on the hem. She wiped her face, neck and hands.
“Here,” he said, holding up another towel. “I can get the back of your hair.”
“Yes, please,” she said, desperate to remove the smell from her body. He blotted the blood from her hair, then took the used towels and mopped the blood from the boat’s bow. He raised the bucket and tossed the remains of the bloody fish into the water, then leaned over the gunwale, filled the bucket with water, and splashedit around the bow three more times before he was satisfied that the last traces of the gore were gone. Then he put the used towels in the bucket, replaced the lid, and stowed the extra anchor and chain in one of the front lockers.
“All done,” he announced.
“Oh my God,” Vikki cried, pointing to the water’s surface a few yards from the Pathfinder. The water boiled and a trio of dorsal fins circled the floating fish remains.
“Quick. Take a picture,” Joe said. “It’s the pièce de résistance.”
The agent clicked the shutter six more times. “Got it. Wingfield will really get off on a shark feeding frenzy.”
Letty choked back the bile rising in her throat. “Now can we please go home?”
Assoon as the sun set they heard the rumble of thunder. The temperature plummeted by what felt like ten degrees, the wind picked up even more, and the rain began, huge, cold droplets.
“Let’s run for shore,” Joe announced, as he scrambled to raise the anchors.
“Yes, let’s,” Vikki Hill agreed.
The rain slashed at their faces as the Pathfinder plowed through the rising waves. Vikki huddled, wet, shivering, and thoroughly miserable, in the stern of the boat. “Come on up here and get behind the windshield,” Joe beckoned.
Letty edged closer beside him in the pilot’s seat, and the three of them crowded in behind the console’s windshield as the boat rose and buckled back down. “Oh God,” Vikki moaned. “Just get me back on dry land and I’ll never leave again.”
“Are you gonna puke again?” Joe asked, peering through the rain-splattered windshield. “Don’t puke on my GPS, okay?”
She nodded wordlessly and squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t watch.”
Ten minutes passed and then the Pathfinder’s running lightsilluminated the looming boat launch. Joe nosed the boat forward until it was parallel with the dock. He jumped onto the dock and tied the boat to cleats at the bow and the stern.
“Hey Letty. I’m gonna jump out and back the trailer down. You guys can go get in the truck too. I’ll take it from here.”
He reached a hand down and helped Vikki and then Letty onto the dock, and they ran, splashing, through the rain.
“Okay,” he said, ten minutes later, as he climbed behind the steering wheel. “Who wants to go get dinner? I’m starved.”
Letty shuddered and cut her eyes toward Vikki Hill, whose head rested on Letty’s shoulder, her mouth open, softly snoring. “I think her Dramamine finally kicked in,” she murmured. “I can’t think about anything—especially food. I just want a hot shower. And maybe a good stiff drink.”
Joe reached under the seat and pulled out a pint bottle of Knob Creek. He passed it to Letty. She took a swig, swished it around in her mouth, then felt the slow, comforting burn as the bourbon trickled down her throat.
He pulled the boat slowly away from the launch, then casually stretched his free arm over her back, resting his hand lightly on her damp shoulder. She nestled closer to his side. “Let’s go home.”
39
Friday Night
“MAYA IS SOUND ASLEEP,” AVAreported, when Letty unlocked the door to her unit. “I fed her some supper, and we read some stories, and then she took herself to bed.”
“Thanks again for watching her,” Letty said. “I’m headed for the shower.”
Ava wrinkled her nose. “Good idea. No offense, but you smell like the bottom of a bait bucket.”
When she emerged from the bathroom, dressed in clean, dry clothes, Ava was gone, but Letty found Joe and Vikki Hill sitting in the dining area, with a half-full bottle of red wine and a cardboard pizza box on the table.
