69

Grub had seen Leland’s fancy boat coming in and had hidden behind the live bait well. He didn’t know if Leland was still angry with him, but he didn’t want to get thrown into the water if he was. Of all the things Grub didn’t like, getting wet was high up on the list. When he heard the store door open and close, he peeked around the well and saw that Leland had left someone sitting in the boat. Curious, he darted from his hiding place and scooted down the pier. He cautiously approached the vessel and looked down at the man sitting behind the center console. The guy looked like he was sleeping. Grub squatted and stared at the man, at the belt tied around his leg, at the blood puddle by his feet. He was hugging a briefcase to his chest.

“Hey,” Grub said. “Was it Leland done that to your leg? He cut you or something? I wouldn’t doubt he done that.”

The man didn’t respond.

Grub picked up a piece of oyster shell and tossed it into the boat, watched for a reaction, ready to sprint off if the man looked up, but he didn’t move. Grub drew closer for a better look. The briefcase. Checking over his shoulder in case Leland was coming, he slipped quickly into the boat, squatted before the man, and studied the briefcase in his hands, reaching out to touch the holes. He wondered if they were from bullets.

“You alive?” Grub asked him.

The man’s head lolled, and his right eye opened slowly.

“Help…doctor.”

“I can call one. Five dollars,” Grub said, picking a nice number and holding out his grimy palm. “Cash.”