Part 49 (1/2)

Kerry smiled and fiddled with a clump of the discarded sh.e.l.ls.

”How's your stomach?” Dar asked.

”Fine,” Kerry answered absently. ”See if you can get that part off, Dar.”

Bob got up and wandered over to them, peering over their shoulders. Charlie remained poring over the pages of data on the table.

Dar paused to listen to the radio as a weather bulletin crackled to life.

”This is the National Weather Service special advisory number six, for the Eastern Caribbean islands and surrounding waters. A tropical depression has formed just south of the island of St. Croix. Minimum central pressure has been detected at 1008 millibars, and there is some indication of a developing circulation.”

”Son of a b.i.t.c.h,” Dar cursed with feeling.*289 ”Marine interests in the area are advised to take precautions.

Highest detected winds are 30 knots, with gusts to 35 knots. The storm is moving west northwest at approximately ten knots.”

Charlie got up and limped over to them, his brow creasing with concern as he heard the radio. ”d.a.m.n.” He looked worried. ”We left everything open at home.”

”Tell you what, we'll get Bud and just head over there,” Dar told him with quiet confidence. ”You'll both be home tonight to take care of things.”

Charlie gave her a speculative look and sighed.

A soft crack made them all jump, then everyone looked at Dar.

She blinked at her hands, which had of their own volition continued to work on opening the box. The coral around the lid had broken off under her knife and fallen to the counter. She put down the knife and fit her fingers around the edge of the box, lifting it up and easing it past the last obstructing coral. Everyone cl.u.s.tered around and peered inside.

Bob craned his head to see. ”What is it?”

Dar tilted the box to the light. A slim metal case was nestled tightly inside, its surface corroded by contact with the sea. She put her penknife to good use again-inserted the tip between the edge of the box and the case, and pried up. It resisted briefly, then popped free.

As Dar levered the edge up, Kerry reached inside and grasped the case, lifting it free of its wooden case and setting it on the cabinet top. ”There's a catch.” She touched the front side. ”Like an old fas.h.i.+oned compact or something.”

Bob leaned closer. ”Are those initials in the top?” He reached over timidly and sc.r.a.ped a bit of debris off the container. ”I think they are!”

”Wharton's?” Kerry picked up a rag from underneath the shelf and rubbed the top of the case. Faint indications of a monogram appeared, thinly traced lines that were difficult to interpret. ”Could be.”

Dar gently picked at the rust around the catch. Having removed the bulk of it, she set down the knife and curled her fingertips around the front of the case, pus.h.i.+ng down firmly on it.

It didn't budge, and she felt the metal digging into her skin. She flexed her hand to put more pressure on the catch, forcing it in with a soft, sodden crack. As she set the case down, water spilled from the edges, along with grains of fine sand from the bottom. Dar lifted the top and laid it fully open on the cabinet, exposing its contents.

Not unexpectedly, the inside was full of sea bottom. A layer of sand covered whatever was tucked inside. Kerry brushed away the sand with her fingertips and removed the contents, which felt hard 290*

and slick to the touch.

”What is it?” Bob asked eagerly.

Kerry pulled it free and unfolded it. ”Something plastic.” She opened it fully and laid it on the shelf. It was a notebook-sized sheet, encased in a stiff laminate, heavily creased where it had obviously been folded many times.

The writing on it was tiny. Even Kerry, whose vision was darn near perfect, had to squint at it. Dar didn't even try. Instead she angled the light closer and turned, heading back toward the living area. ”I'll get a magnifying gla.s.s.”

”It's been reduced,” Kerry said. ”It's a bunch of pages, laid out.”

The trembling in his hand indicating his excitement, Bob pointed. ”Is that a will? That cover page looks like the one that got tossed out!”

Charlie grunted. ”That's a fisherman,” he said. ”Knew what he was about in keeping that stuff. Bud 'n I have our important stuff done the same way, 'cept we got it full sized.”

Dar returned with a small, handheld magnifier. She handed it to Kerry, who focused it on the first square of miniscule lettering.

Everyone waited while the blonde woman read.

”It's a trust,” Kerry murmured. ”This part, and yeah-that section's a will.” She pointed at a third set of pages. ”Those are the doc.u.ments of owners.h.i.+p for the boat. It's all legal papers.” She looked up at Dar. ”And this section at the bottom looks like his float plan for the Caribbean.”

Dar exhaled. ”Proof he wasn't nuts,” she said, ”and that he was here for a reason.”

”Yes! Yes!” Bob yelled in elation. ”There it is! We got him! We got the d.a.m.n b.a.s.t.a.r.d!”

Dar held the slim, metal case in one hand and stared at it, her head shaking in patent disbelief. ”I can't believe we've had this d.a.m.n thing the whole freaking time,” she cursed, lifting the top of the case and shutting it.

”d.a.m.n.” Looking profoundly relieved, Charlie exhaled.

”d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n,d.a.m.n!”

”I'm d.a.m.n glad to see this.” Dar sighed. ”At least we've got something to work with now.”

”What?” Bob said. ”Give it to me. That's Tanya's!”

”Hey!” Kerry covered the sheet with both hands to block his hasty grab.

Dar clamped her fingers down on his wrist. ”Leave it. That's our only real bargaining chip.”

”You can't give that to him! No!” Bob wrenched his arm free from Dar's grip and lunged for the packet. Avoiding Charlie's outstretched fingers, he yanked at Kerry's shoulder.*291 Dar reacted instinctively. Her left hand whipped up, tangling with Bob's arm as she s.h.i.+fted and threw her weight against him.

”Get away from her,” Dar warned, aware suddenly of Kerry's gently bemused look.

Charlie stepped between them and forced Bob back, shoving him against the wall. ”Don't give me no excuses, you gutless git,”

he told Bob. ”I don't give a d.a.m.n about no money or what you're gonna get out of this. That there's the key to me getting my partner back.”

”You can't take it,” Bob panted. ”You don't understand what's at stake here.”

Kerry slipped around them and carried the sheet with her over to the couch. ”No,” she advised Bob. ”You don't understand what's at stake here. Or what's worse, you don't care. Someone's life is in danger; how can you even think about keeping this?” With a disgusted shake of her head, Kerry used a cloth to pat the sheet dry.

”Dar, I can't even scan this. It won't pick up these letters, even as a hi- res graphic.”

”I won't let you turn that over to him,” Bob warned. ”I won't. I won't; I...urp.” His eyes bugged out as Charlie got a big hand around his throat and started to squeeze.