Broken Man on a Halifax Pier by Choyce Lesley;

Author:Choyce, Lesley;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2019-10-11T16:00:00+00:00

26

Even though Joe’s attention was focused on the ocean, his fury at having us aboard was palpable. We hung back outside the cabin and let the spray from the waves we were hitting rain down on us. The chop was increasing. The wind was coming up. Fiddler’s Point was maybe ten miles east. High dirt cliffs, rocky shoreline, no harbours, no easy place to go ashore.

I wondered if Joe had any clues as to what Brody’s plan was. Could be the boy didn’t have a clue about geography and thought he was headed to Sable Island or Bermuda. Who could know? Whatever it was, it was a dumb idea. And this storm coming in looked like the real thing.

I gave Ramona a hug. “Why didn’t you go with Rolf? God knows what this is going to be like.”

“I figured you needed me for moral support,” she answered. “Also to make sure Joe doesn’t kill you. Or Brody for that matter, if you find him.”

“Seems like there’s never a dull moment when you’re around.”

“I thought it was the other way — never a dull moment when you are around,” she said.

“Hey, that gun thing. I had made sure the gun was unloaded.”

“I found the bullets in a drawer in the cabin. What are you doing with a handgun on a boat, anyway?”

“It was Brody’s. I took it from his truck when he was arrested. Otherwise, there would have been stiffer charges. Or something worse.”

“That boy is trouble.”

We both looked ahead at the gloom. The seas were continuing to rise. The waves were now a few feet high and we heard a loud whump each time Joe slammed the speeding boat into the larger ones.

“Let’s see what the captain has in mind,” I said, lifting a hatch cover and finding three floater jackets. I put one on Ramona, one on myself, and carried the third into the cabin to hand to Joe. Ramona came in with me.

Joe was staring straight ahead, keeping the bow straight into the waves. I handed him the jacket and he waved me away. “Bad luck, those things. Never wear them.”

We both stood there listening to the marine weather again. The word intensifying kept coming up. “Shit, shit, and shit,” Joe said under his breath. That pretty much summed up the weather report.

Kent Webber came on the radio. “Joe Myatt, you out there? You hear me, you son of a bitch, over.”

Joe picked up the mic. “I hear ya, Kent. I’m gonna get your boat back, over.”

“Damn you, Joe. That kid of yours. Why’d he have to pick my boat? I just bought the damn thing. And I don’t even have insurance on it yet, over.”

“How much gas was in the tank, Kent?”

“Not a whole hell of a lot. Quarter tank, maybe. Why?”

Joe didn’t answer the question. He switched off the radio and I could see he was making some kind of calculation in his head.

“I reckon he should be running out of gas within the next twenty

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