Rising Thunder by Wayne Stinnett

Author:Wayne Stinnett [Stinnett, Wayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down Island Press
Published: 2020-04-19T16:00:00+00:00

Garcia had kept us around until noon, though there wasn’t anything more any of us could tell him. When the divers finally gave up on finding anything, he cut us loose.

“Where are we going?” Florence asked.

I started the engine, and as it warmed up, hit the button for the anchor windlass. “It’s about fifteen miles down to San Pedro,” I replied. “We can be there in three hours and anchor in the lagoon for the night.”

“Rowdy dive bars?” Savannah said. “I thought you didn’t like being around a lot of people.”

As the anchor line gave way to the chain portion of the rode, I slipped the transmission into gear for a second. “Right now, I think I want people around.”

The chain rode clicked and clacked across the rollers as I watched the chain counter. With twenty-five feet still out, I felt the hook break loose from the sand.

We were free once more.

“I’ll get the safety chain,” Florence said as she headed forward.

“There’s something you haven’t told us,” Savannah began, once Florence was out of earshot.

“It was the so-called Ghoul Killer and the woman was naked.”

Savannah took the news in stride. “Another poor prostitute?”

“Looks that way,” I replied, seating the anchor and releasing the switch.

“Got it!” Florence shouted from the bow.

When she returned to the cockpit, I asked her if she’d mind making a few sandwiches, and she took off for the galley, Woden right behind her.

“How do you know it was the same killer?” Savannah asked, avoiding the moniker the press had given the guy.

“There was an incision here,” I said, running a finger from my navel to my sternum.

She visibly shuddered. “Who could do that to another human being?”

“Someone who’s not human,” I replied, still wondering about the cop’s questioning. “Garcia kept circling back to her toenail polish, even after I told him about seeing an incision in the woman’s abdomen.”

“Why?”

“I straight up asked him,” I replied. “He just waved it off with more questions.”

We motored into the wind until the sonar showed the bottom falling away sharply.

“Want me to raise the main?” Savannah asked, as I started to turn toward the south.

There wasn’t much wind. Even if we put up all the canvas, we’d probably only get four knots of boat speed.

“Nah,” I replied, as Florence came up with a tray. “I believe I think better with an engine vibrating under my feet.”

“Mom likes it better, too,” Florence said, putting the tray on the table in front of the helm.

“I never said that,” Savannah exclaimed. “I’ve really enjoyed sailing.”

“You said you missed Sea Biscuit.”

They continued to banter back and forth as I pushed the throttle forward to get us up to six knots. I picked up a sandwich and started eating, not really tasting it.

The scene from the night before kept replaying in the back of my mind, as sometimes happened when I’d overlooked something. What had I missed?

Forefront in my mind was the revelation that Savannah missed her boat. When you lived aboard, your boat was your home.

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