He knew what he was doing, even if she didn't. It always felt a little strange, watching someone who knew exactly what he was doing and did it well. Most people just fumbled along. She'd seen that, the first time she'd seen him in class. He'd stood out in the room, sharp and clear. Everyone else was out of focus, fuzzy edges and blank early-morning faces. If Gary wasn't hiding, he had the sharpest edges she'd ever seen.
He was going to leave her. They all had. Mom, Dad, Dana, even Cindy had left her. Anyone who mattered, left.
She wasn't actually cold, even with her teeth chattering, not even here on the cold water with the wind blowing in from somewhere north of Nova Scotia. Gary had given her a jacket, synthetic fleece with a windproof shell, that must have cost hundreds of bucks. He said it had been his mother's, ought to fit. She wasn't shivering because she was cold.
She was shivering because he was going to leave her, because she couldn't see a way out of this trap. His father was hurt, had fallen overboard. Gary was going to jump in after him and leave her alone at night on a boat she couldn't run. And he wouldn't come back. He'd taken up the net and didn't plan on climbing back in. None of them ever came back.
I am the cat who walks by myself, and all places are the same to me. She had to remember that. That was how she survived. And she had a gun. All people are the same to me.
He looked good in a wetsuit, dark gray rubber molded to those swimmer muscles, taller and heavier than his father. His sister had looked like that, with a different build like she did different things to stay in shape, but strong. A woman who wasn't afraid all the time. And her Aunt Alice was strong, small as she was, never afraid. But Jane knew she'd never see either of them again. Never feel the uncanny safety of that house again. Things like that didn't happen.
Not in her world.
Gary had said that Caroline put on a mask, that she was scared under that calm surface. That he was scared, just fumbling through, no matter how he looked. She didn't believe him.
He glanced at her, remembering she was there, and she shrank further back into her corner. "We've got to get over to the Perkins landing and pick Dad up. They've left for the winter. There won't be anybody there to see us, but the dock's still in. After the charges blow, we can come back here. Hold on."
The boat lurched ahead, a sudden deep bellow from the exhaust overhead, and icy spray flew as they plunged through swells. She tasted salt, even inside the cabin, but didn't know if it was tears or seawater. He'd put her ashore at that landing, get rid of her. Push her out of the family problem. At least he wasn't going to keep her trapped on the boat. Or kill her.
His father was hurt. He was going to pick up his dad, different person, come back, then help his father. The only reason he hadn't left her already was that ticking time-bomb he'd set on the cliff. He had to get his boat out of danger. The boat meant more to him.
His father had fallen overboard. Gary had said a man could live maybe fifteen minutes, half an hour in this water. His father hadn't had a wetsuit on, hadn't even worn a life jacket. She'd stripped it off along with his body armor when she was bandaging his wound. They'd have to move fast, to get back after the bomb went off and save him. Twenty minute fuse, Gary had said.
She hadn't seen what she remembered. It wasn't possible. A man had fallen overboard. She shivered and hugged herself again, keeping a tight grip on the gun. The loaded gun, full magazine, round in the chamber, safety still on. Just flip that lever, touch the trigger, that was all she'd have to do.
Nothing made sense. Gary hadn't gone in after his father, hadn't thrown a life vest overboard, or a rope, or jumped into the little dinghy tied at the stern. And his father had swum away, dove and swum underwater. Hurt.
The sun was setting, clear yellow sky over the town, and she saw flashing red lights snaking through the woods, the blue lights of cops, all converging on dense smoke and a leaping orange glow that had to be that guesthouse. Gary's family didn't mess around. Seriously dangerous.
Like his father hadn't messed around when he'd wanted to scare her off. Her finger twitched at the trigger guard of the gun. It was Rolls-Royce or stretch Mercedes class compared to any she'd ever touched before, more proof she didn't belong. More proof that Gary would dump her at the first chance.
He cut the engine back to idle and spun the wheel, bringing the boat around in a smooth curve close to a floating dock and long ramp suspended from the stone face overhead. He squinted at the water, at the gap and their motion, moved a lever and then blipped the throttle again, kicking the stern back and out.
The boat danced under his hands. Skill. It drifted to a stop, rising and falling with the swells, five feet, four feet, three feet from the float and gently, gently bobbing closer. Current, she guessed. Or wind. Wind and water flowed in his
