CHAPTER 57

The boat rolled from side to side, throwing Walter against the inside walls of the cabin. Joe Black had hog-tied Walter’s hands and feet with a braided rope and left him to slide and knock against the wood panels. The tuna bag lay between him and the steps going up to the cockpit.

He tried to watch the bag, though he had to twist and look over his shoulder to see it. He couldn’t turn himself around with the boat heaving him every time he made an attempt. But Walter was sure something, or rather someone, was in the bag. There had been what sounded like groans early on. Not anymore.

“How you doing, Walter?” Joe had to yell to be heard over the engine.

He poked his head down to take a peek. Walter could see only a corner of his forehead. He knew the kid didn’t dare leave the cockpit. He’d have to stay put and keep his hands on the controls. From the increased tilt and raise of the boat, Walter could tell the waves were cresting even more violently. Soon it wouldn’t matter how Joe steered.

He heard a crackle of static and then Joe’s voice boomed through a box on the wall, just over Walter’s head.

“Hey, Walter. I know you can’t hit the response button but I just wanted to explain some stuff to you. It’s nothing personal. It’s just business.”

Walter jerked onto his side to take a better look at the box on the wall about three feet above him. Was it an intercom or a radio? Light came in only through the portholes, which were being pummeled by waves. It was too dark for him to tell. He scooted against the wall, trying to gain leverage just as the boat lurched and threw him to the other side of the boat, knocking his head against the wall. It was enough for him to see shooting stars.

“Everything I told you, Walter, was true.” Joe’s voice came through the wall. “You know, about my dad. He was in the navy. Loved it. Even though they weren’t so good to him. He didn’t get this boat until he found out he was sick. Waited too long to enjoy life. Always said he couldn’t afford it.”

Another wave almost capsized the boat. The tuna bag slammed into Walter. He pressed his heels into one wall and his shoulders against the other, wedging himself tight. When the boat rocked back down, the tuna bag slid toward the steps but Walter stayed put.

Something told him it was all a big roller-coaster ride to this kid. He knew guys like Joe Black in the navy. They loved the adventure, the more dangerous the better. They craved it. He recognized a bit of that in himself. He saw it in his daughter Liz, and he worried it could end up getting her hurt. There always came a time when the rush wasn’t enough or when you thought you were invincible because you had survived. What was it Liz had told him they said these days? You looked the beast in the face and won? So you upped the ante, took bigger and bigger risks.

No, Walter wasn’t surprised that the hurricane didn’t deter Joe. A moment later he was saying, “Hey, Walter, I wish you didn’t have to be tied up, ’cause I think you’d be enjoying this. You should see it from up here. Bet you spent rougher times out on the seas, huh?” There was more static then a click-click and he thought the connection had failed.

Then Joe added, “Might have lost you there. These radios need updating.”

Walter waited out another crest—up, up, up, and finally back down. The tuna bag rolled to one side and crashed into the other, but he stayed put.

“I learned from my dad, Walter. You can’t put off living the good life. You’ve got to take what you can whenever you can. And after all those years when my dad got sick and the navy didn’t do right by him … well, let’s just say I’m evening the score.”

Another surge.

“And you know what else, Walter? I’ve learned to love hurricanes. You just have to work them to your favor.”

Walter thought Joe was referring to the roller-coaster ride. It didn’t occur to him what Joe really meant until he saw the tuna bag moving, the zipper working its way down.

“Yup, these hurricanes have been a cash cow for me this summer. Because you know what? People disappear all the time after a hurricane. A missing person suddenly becomes a donor. You know how much one body’s worth these days?”

Walter’s head pounded and he blinked his eyes hard, thinking maybe he was hallucinating. He twisted and jerked around to see better, holding his breath while he watched a bruised and battered Charlotte Mills crawl out of the tuna bag.