“They were sent to Billy anonymously in response to his campaign against Fonchem. We found the same images on a camera belonging to Keith Waterhouse, taken a few days after the site suffered a very minor leak – well within the limits allowed by the Environmental Protection Agency. Waterhouse also sent the images to the manager of the site, wanting to be sure it never happened again. It seems news of his concerns may have reached Jacques Bellafonte or Karl Henderson, and he wasn’t the sort of employee they wanted when EEC took over the site. The bombing was an opportunity to take him out of the picture. They took it.
“Do you think you’ll catch him?” Sam Wheatley asked.
“Catch him? We already have. Karl Henderson and Jacques Bellafonte are both already in custody.” West smiled. “We arrested them this morning. It’s over. This whole thing is over. And Billy, you’re free to go.”
Billy stiffened again at the sound of his name, but still his expression was sad. Amber wasn’t sure how much of the preceding conversation he’d understood. He’d hardly spoken a word.
“You know Billy,” West went on. “From what I’ve heard about your adventures since we last met, this is kind of an undramatic ending, compared to your normal work. No gun battles, no sunken boats, no major explosions!” She smiled, and tried to coax a smile out of him too. But Billy didn’t smile. Instead he stayed quiet, looking down at the table, and an awkwardness spread through the room. Finally though he did speak.
“Yeah maybe.” He looked up at last, his eyes level on West’s. “Or maybe I’m just growing up.”
The meeting went on for some time, and by the time it broke up Amber saw from the clock on the wall it was already eleven o’clock. She hadn’t slept since the previous night, and suddenly she felt exhausted. And after five days without leaving either the FBI building or the hotel opposite, she was finally allowed to go home. Along with Billy.
“Where are you going to go? What are you going to do?” She asked Billy, as the FBI agents gathered up their papers and prepared to leave the room.
It was Sam Wheatley who answered. “He’s coming back to the island with me. Just for a week or so, until we sort out what should happen next. How about you?”
“I should get back to work.”
Sam looked at her for a while, then nodded.
“Stay in touch Amber. Don’t be a stranger.”
Chapter Sixty-Three
One Month Later
I don’t go back to college right away. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t have the time to do any work. I have to give loads of statements about what happened, both to the police and the FBI, and when they’ve finished, the TV news and newspapers really want to speak to me as well. For two days they camp on the road outside the house, and we can’t really go outside, but then Dad has a smart idea. He gets me to do an interview with the Island Times, explaining exactly what happened, and how I was living on the Caroline for over a month in the winter. But he tells the journalist we have to do the interview actually on the boat, and he gets them to take lots of pictures. And then, at the end of the article he makes them write about how we’re trying to fix her up, but how we can’t because so many of the parts are too expensive. And then he gets me to set up a GoFundMe page. And pretty soon after that the donations start coming in. Sometimes it’s money, just ten dollars here, or twenty there, but mostly it’s actual boat parts. The island is full of boat people, and boat yards and chandlers, and boat people are almost always really kind. And so when the fuss dies down, we spend the next few weeks trying to fit all these pieces together. You might think spending more time on Caroline is the last thing I would want to do, but actually it’s really nice. It’s spring now, and it’s beautiful down there on the marshes, and it’s just me and Dad, working hard and not even really having time to speak, or even think much, except about which bit goes where, or whatever job it is we’re working on. By the time we’re finished the boat is freshly painted, with sanded and varnished decks, and polished brass work, and she looks amazing. I mean she looks a bit odd too, like a sort of jigsaw-boat made from a dozen other boats, but she’s sturdy and clean and ready to sail, and I think she looks beautiful.
The only interruptions come from Agent West, who visits a few times to keep me up to date with the case, as she calls it. Because James and Oscar both confessed, they don’t have to go to trial, but Jacques Bellafonte wouldn’t admit to what he did, so he will have to face a trial. And for a while she thought I was going to have to be a witness, which I didn’t want to do. But in the end I don’t have to. James and Oscar both know more about him than I do, so they can do it. And because they won’t be sentenced until they give their evidence, Agent West is confident that they’ll do it properly.
But both Dad and I know I can’t stay forever. And as Caroline looks better and better, a bit of me gets sadder and sadder, until Dad has another good idea. He decides that instead of me taking the ferry back to the mainland, we’ll take Caroline. It’ll be her maiden voyage. At least maiden for us.
After that it’s less bad.
It’s a beautiful spring day, when we finally untie Caroline from the jetty in Bishops Landing, and
