Page 39 of On Fire

Chapter Ten

Dave Keller

I’m useless getting the houseboat into her slip at the Rockland Marina. I stand there holding a thick rope watching as Nic guides her in like a pro. “Greased it,” he says grinning. This is a pilot term. I’ve heard him say it when he’s set a helicopter down in a narrow spot.

The Marina is busy with evening diners loading drinks and meat, fish, and cheese platters onto boats. The more creative will have already stocked their galleys with food or are cooking small grills. Though the sun is still high, it’s nearly five-thirty, and day trippers want to be in their boats even if anchored.

Anchoring worked well for us, I think, watching him spin the wheel against his palm. He cuts the engine.

Nic bags up our trash and slips on his suit jacket. I wipe down the counter and we are nearly ready to disembark when there’s a rap on the door. I open it expecting Carlson.

It’s some fresh-faced, red-haired cop. “I’m supposed to give you a ride to Chief Carlson’s,” he says. I swear his voice cracks.

“Okay,” Nic says coming up behind me. “But you don’t have to stick around. We can get ourselves there.”

“Actually, I have orders to not let that happen,” he says, though he looks worried. “Please don’t get me in trouble.”

Nic sticks his head out the cabin door and points to a squad car parked at the edge of the peer. “That you?”

The kid nods. “We’ll meet you there,” he says. And then watches the cop retreat to shore before he closes the door.

“Just us?” I say. I want to make sure there’s no one else out there.

“Just us,” he says and puts his arms around me for one more gentle kiss. I’ve only kissed a handful of men in my life and his are the sweetest.

I’m left a little breathless even after he opens the door again and we step out on the pier. He checks the lines and then we make our way down the long pier to the parking lot.

“Look there’s that guy, Jim something—from the TTX,” Nic says.

I wave and Jim pauses, makes out who we are and then waves back. “Jim Graham.”

“That’s right. Probably needs glasses,” Nic says.

Only once does Nic touch me—a lingering hand at the small of my back just as we turn, as he tosses the bag of trash into a can.

“Stop,” I say, though clenched teeth.

“No one is watching,” he says, and this has got to be true. A quick visual, shows the young cop looking at this phone, the people milling around are focused on moving a lot of food and drink quickly, and people parking are looking at other drivers and pedestrians. Graham’s busy on his boat.

Nic’s fingers do drop from my back. My sigh of relief is real, but so is the longing for his touch. This is all mixed into that sigh. He opens the front passenger door for me and then climbs effortlessly into the back.

“Any updates on the Portland situation?” I ask, plucking at my pants. I feel weird when I’m not in gear and speaking in an official capacity.

“I can’t say, sir,” is all the young guy says.

We start up the wild rose edged street and are there in five minutes. We could have walked. Whatever it is, it must be urgent. There’s a Lexus, a Colton car, just pulling in the driveway.

I swear Finn’s out of the Lexus before the engine is cut and halfway up the steps. I thank the kid and follow. Carlson meets us at the door and takes us inside.

Finn stands looking out the front window which has a spectacular view of Rockland.

“Is Claire okay?” Nic asks his partner. “Everything good? You got test results?”

“Yes,” Finn says, clearly not expecting a domestic question. “She’s fine, baby is fine.”

The relief in Nic’s face is visible.

“I’ll tell you about it later. We have a bigger problem right now. Carlson’s been explaining how—it’s a fucking shit show.”