Karen didn’t arrive back at the hotel until well into the afternoon. Hauck was in his room by then, seated in a cane chair, his feet propped on the bed, going over some work to distract himself. His worst fears had faded. Karen had called in as soon as she hit open water to let him know she was all right. She sounded vague, even a bit distant emotionally, but she told him she would say more about it when she got to the hotel.

There was a knock on his door.

“It’s open,” he said.

Karen stepped into the room. She looked a little weary and conflicted. Her hair was tousled, out of place. She dropped the bag she was carrying onto the table by the door.

He asked, “So how did it go?”

She tried to smile. “How did it go?” She could read it—anyone could read it, what he was really asking. Had anything changed?

“Here,” she said, placing the gun he’d given her on the table by the bed. “He didn’t kill those people, Ty. He committed fraud with those tankers to cover up his losses, and he admitted he went up to Greenwich after the bombing like you said—with that man’s ID. To meet with Raymond, Ty, not to kill him. To try to get him once and for all to convince his father to stop.”

Hauck nodded.

She sat down across from him on the edge of the bed. “I believe him, Ty. He said he saw the whole thing happen and that he realized there was no turning back. These people had threatened him. I showed you that Christmas card. The note about what they did to our dog. He thought he was saving us, Ty, however it sounds. But everything he said—it fits.”

“What fits is that he’s up to his ankles in a shitload of trouble, Karen.”

“He knows that, too. I tried to get him to come in. I even told him about you. I told him he hadn’t killed anyone, that all he’d done was commit fraud, that he could give back the money, pay a fine, do some time, whatever anyone would want. Testify.”

“And…?”

“And he said he’d think about it. But I’m not sure. He’s scared. Scared to face what he’s done. To face our family. I think it’s just easier to run. When the boat pulled away, he waved. I have the feeling that was his answer. I don’t think I’ll see him anymore.”

Hauck drew his legs back, tossed his papers on the table. “Do you want him to come back, Karen?”

“Do I want him back?” She looked at him and shook her head, eyes glazing. “Not the way you’re thinking, Ty. It’s over between us like that. I could never go back. Nor could he. But I realized something there. Seeing him, hearing him…”

“What’s that?”

“My children. They deserve the truth. They deserve their father, whatever he’s done, as long as he’s alive.”

Hauck nodded. He understood that. He had Jessie. Whatever he’d done. He drew a breath.

Karen looked at him, aching. “You know how hard it was for me to do that, Ty?”

Something held him back. “Yeah, I know.”

“To see him.” Her eyes filled up. “To see my husband, in front of me again. To hear him out. After what he’s done…”

“I know how it was, Karen.”

“How? How was it, Ty?”

“What is it you want me to do, Karen?”

“I want you to hold me, goddamn it! I want you to tell me I did the right thing. Don’t you see that?” She let her hand fall to his leg. “Anyway, I realized something else out there as well.”

“What was that?”

She got up and sat down on his lap. “I realized I do love you, Ty. Not something close.” She smiled, sniffing back a tear. “The whole shebang.”

“Shebang?”

“Yeah.” Karen nodded and drew herself close across his chest. “Shebang.”

He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her face against his shoulder. He realized she was crying. She couldn’t help herself. He held her, feeling her warm body and the lift in his own heart as hers beat steadily against him. The dampness of a few warm tears pressed against his neck.

“I do,” she whispered, cuddling against him. “Impossible as that may seem.”

He shrugged, bringing her face gently against his chest. “Not so impossible.”

“Yes it is. Totally frigging impossible. You don’t think I can read you, mister? Like an open book.” Then she pulled away. “But I can’t let him simply disappear again. I want to bring him home to the kids. Whatever he’s done. Their father’s alive.”

Hauck wiped a bead of moisture from her freckled cheek with his thumb. “We’ll find a way,” he said. “We will.”

She kissed him lightly on the lips, rested her forehead against his. “Thank you, Ty.”

“Not so impossible to me,” he said again. “Of course, for the kids maybe…”

“Oh, man!” Karen shook her head, brushing a wave of hair out of her face. “Am I gonna have a bunch to explain when they get back or what?”

THAT NIGHT THEY stayed together in his room. They didn’t make love. They just lay there, his arm around her waist, her body tucked closely to him, the shadow of her husband hovering ominously, like a front coming in across the sea, over their calm.

Around one, Hauck got up. Karen lay curled on the bed, sleeping heavily. He drew the covers off and pulled on his shorts and stepped over to the window, looking out at the moonlit sea. Something gnawed at him.

The Black Bear.

The boat he’d seen. It was in his sleep. His dreams. A dark presence. And it had come to him in his dream, where he had seen it before.

Dietz’s office. A photo pinned there.

Dietz’s arms wrapped around the shoulders of a couple of cronies, a sailfish dangling between them.

Dietz had been on it.