Sweet Dreams, Irene

“And never seen any reason to change my outlook,” Harry called out, as Jack held the door open for me.

“We’d better get going if we want to catch the sunset,” Jack said.

I tried not to make too much of “Gee” and Lydia’s cancellation, and followed Jack outside.

On board the Pandora, Jack had to do almost all of the work, but he didn’t seem to mind. He set the engine on idle, and I thought we would motor out, but we made our way out of the marina completely under sail. “Why did you start the engine if you weren’t going to use it?” I asked when he turned it off again.

“Oh, just a precaution. The wind or the current might have shifted while we were leaving the dock.”

A steady wind picked up off the starboard, and we managed to get out past the breakwater just as the sun was starting to set. The sunset was a glorious combination of colors and clouds and shafts of sunlight, making up what Lydia and I used to call “a religious sky” — a term I no doubt remembered as a result of our previous night’s discussion.

Thinking of Lydia, I began to wonder if I had let my love of the ocean overcome my common sense. Maybe this was just as stupid as going into the field that night. Maybe the message Harry the Grump gave us was as phony as the one at the hotel. Maybe Jack didn’t really have leukemia, and this was all a plan to—

“Irene? Is something troubling you?”

I looked up at him, startled right out of my maybes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Do you want me to head back in?”

Concerned. Not threatening, concerned. Everything in his manner and his voice said so. I exhaled. “I’m fine, Jack. Just letting my imagination run wild.”

“You want to talk about it?”

I laughed. “Not this time, but thanks.”

He didn’t press me for more. He was looking out over the water, toward the horizon. With his scars, tattoos, and earring, he could have been a pirate. The pirate was suddenly grinning to himself.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“Oh, I was just thinking about Cody’s little stunt as we were leaving.”

I shook my head, picturing the imp crouched under the van. Suddenly, something tugged at my memory. “Jack? Remember when we left the house on Sunday, the first time we went sailing?”

“Yes, why?”

“That van was there. On a Sunday. As far as I know, General Systems Cable won’t come out on weekends, and they won’t come by after five. Frank had them install cable at his house at the beginning of October, so that I could watch the Kings’ games when we were there. It was a real hassle, because at the time, we were both working late. But this van was there after six o’clock yesterday, when Lydia arrived, and it was there again today.”

“I don’t remember seeing it there on Sunday. Are you sure you didn’t see it when you went out with Rachel?”

I hesitated. “I don’t know. Maybe I saw it both times.”

“Maybe one of our neighbors works for the cable company now. Or maybe the van arrived before five, but they were still working when she got there.”

“Maybe. But that must be one hellacious installation if they’re back today.”

“Mention it to Frank. He may remember about Sunday. In the meantime, he’s got a tail on Gannet. You’re out on the ocean, trying to enjoy a sunset. Relax.”

I took a deep breath and tried to do just that. We had been sailing for a little less than an hour, and I was just starting to enjoy myself. The wind picked up as the sky darkened. Jack prepared to come about and head back into the marina, beginning a port tack. I decided that I was being paranoid about the van.

Two seconds later, there was a sickening screech of metal. We both watched the aluminum mast fold at the lower shrouds, and topple to the starboard side.

36

THE TOP OF THE MAST, sails, and lines were swinging wildly around the deck. I barely managed to duck in time to keep my head from being hit by the boom. “Damn,” I heard Jack mutter, but otherwise he remained remarkably calm. He hurriedly secured the boom.

“Can we still use the engine to go back in?” I asked.

“Not yet,” he said. “I’ve got to secure all the lines first. Otherwise, we might wrap one in the propeller.”

I was reassured by the way he moved about the deck: calm, certain of his actions. When the lines were secured, he came back and tried the engine, but he couldn’t get it to start.

That earned another “damn,” but he quickly moved toward the mast. “Can you get below on your own?” he asked, as he made his way forward.

I nodded, trying not to panic.

“Do you know how to use a radio? How to call the Coast Guard? Call PAN-PAN. There are instructions near the radio if you don’t know how.”

“I know how,” I said, thinking through the sequence for a distress call. Calling PAN-PAN would signal an urgent but not life-threatening problem. One step below a Mayday.

“Good. I’ve got to try to get the mast secured before it tears the boat apart.” He attached a harness to himself, of the type that prevents a sailor from being lost overboard in a storm. Seeing my worried look, he added, “We’ll be okay.”

I clumsily made my way down the companionway steps, hearing Jack struggle with the mast. In the shadowy interior of the cabin, I found the radio and hit the power switch. It glowed to life. I switched to channel 16, the