Voices.
“Okay, go ahead and take him down. Watch the IV.”
“Is Park staying here?”
“Yeah, they’ve got another boat on the way. Go on and get him out of here before you lose him.”
I felt myself, flat on my back, being picked up and carried. I opened my eyes, and saw pale blue uniform shirts above me. I was on a stretcher. The clearing was full of uniforms, milling around. Lights on poles illuminated everything. The cabin door opened, and in the bright wash of yellow spilling out I saw the porch was full of people.
We moved from the light and into darkness under the trees. Someone followed us and flashed a light at the feet of those carrying me. It bobbed up and down. Another floodlight had been set up by the water. I heard hollow heavy footsteps on the dock beneath me, and I was lowered awkwardly into the bottom of a large police launch. It had inflatable sides, and I wondered why all boats didn’t use that design. It made such good sense. I became sure I could revolutionize the boating industry, and save lives, if I could get up and find a phone. It began to seem more and more important.
“Shhhh. Lie still, Mike,” Molly said.
Her face loomed above me. I had never seen anything so lovely. Her clear features alternated red and dark with the rotation of the boat’s emergency flasher. My mind cleared under her gaze.
“How did you find me?” I asked.
“I drove up as fast as I could, as soon as I got the call. I realized I didn’t have my boat in the water, so I called the police on my way north. They were already on the way.”
“What call? Who called you?”
“Your friend,” she said. “He just said he was your friend. He said your dock light had gone out, and it was time for me to come, but you were going to be all right, so don’t drive too fast and kill myself. I couldn’t believe he was talking about our signal, but then I figured he had to be. I had been anxious about you all day. How did he know?”
“Who was it?” I asked. “Do you have any idea?”
“He didn’t say. He hung up before I could ask. He did say that I should take a stab at keeping you out of trouble for a little while, that you were worth it most days, and…”
“Let me guess,” I said. “What have you got to lose?”
She touched my face. “Yes,” she said. “That’s what he said. How did you know? Does that even make sense?”
“It always makes sense, I think. Sometimes you have to work a little to get the answer.”
A police officer leaned down from the dock and spoke to Molly. “Sergeant Park wants to talk to him a minute before you shove off,” he said. “He’ll be down in a couple minutes.”
I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to talk to anyone else, and I began to drift. Park would have to wake me up, I thought. I was nearly asleep when Molly caressed my cheek again, very softly, almost too light to be felt. She made snuffling sounds against my face, and I wondered if she was crying. I opened my eyes and looked into a wrinkled face, black eyes and heavy white jowls. Aruba hung her tongue out, clearly smiling. A leash was attached to her collar. The other end was in my daughter’s hand.
Abby turned and stepped delicately into the boat. She smiled at me and held one finger to her lips to shush me, then dissolved into inaudible giggles. She wore a flowered skirt and her long hair had been pulled back. She was older than the last time I had seen her. She was lovely, a foreshadowing of the beautiful woman she would become.
She signaled Aruba with a gentle tug, and led her to sit on the other side of Molly. They sat quietly as John Park came and leaned over me.
“You’re a lucky man, Mike Latta,” he said. “The Huntsville cops were hunting for him, but we didn’t get the news until today, when they couldn’t turn him up. It was a routine bulletin. When it came in, I put two and two together and we were on our way.”
“Looking for him for what?” I asked.
“His wife called in a complaint yesterday morning. She said he had gone off the deep end. He kept screaming that he was going to kill someone, and then he left the house. I guess it’s a miracle she was sober enough to understand, and finally scared enough to call for help. She’s known for years that he killed his first wife. She says he threatened her with it.”
“Would have been nice if she said something years ago.” I said. “Would have saved all this.”
“The DNA on the coat came back, by the way. It came back to Stephanie Baptiste. Not enough to convict or even arrest, but enough to be interesting. I think he must have known it was unravelling.”
“He could have gotten rid of the little girl’s coat a long time ago. Crazy not to.”
“Who would have ever thought it’d be found, or that anyone would make a connection? Maybe he didn’t want to get rid of it. Maybe he still loved his daughter, in some way. Maybe it was the only thing he had left of her. We’ll never know.”
“Maybe that’s why he tried to talk me into selling the place,” I said. I was exhausted, and felt myself drifting off. “She’s still going to be a drunk. The daughter’s a mess, never going to be okay. No happy endings there. Makes me wonder if it was all worth it.”
Park stared at me, his black eyes unreadable. “Now that,” he said, “is really stupid. You outdo yourself sometimes, you know that?”
Behind him, Abby gave up trying to smother her laughter. I wagged a finger almost imperceptibly at her. Aruba had one paw in her lap, wagging her stump of tail.
Park stood up. “You’ll have to talk to some people, Mike. I think you’ll be fine, but it isn’t my call. I don’t need Sherlock Holmes to come figure out what happened here, but not everyone’s as smart as me. You’ll need a lawyer.”
I nodded, and looked at Molly. Her expression was unreadable.
“The gunshot wound in your leg sort of makes self-defense academic anyway,” he said, “but I can’t promise they won’t put you through the wringer. It’s what they do.”
“I was shot? I thought I cut it on a rock or something.”
“Nope, gunshot,” he said. “Something for your memoirs. Got to say... not many guys could go against a hunting rifle, armed with an oar, and walk away from it.”
“Actually, it was a paddle,” I said. “Oars are longer.”
He stared at me, expressionless. I winked at Abby.
“Whatever,” he said, and turned to go.
“Actually, John... there’s a bit more to it. How he died. I have something I’d better tell you.”
He looked over his shoulder at Molly. “Does he ever shut up?” he asked. “Ever?”
“Not so far, no,” she said. She put a gentle finger against my lips.
Park clambered from the boat, and Abby followed him. As she passed me, she trailed her fingers across my hand, and pressed something into my palm. She bent over and kissed my forehead. It tingled, more a warm whisper than a touch, and I remembered every single moment of her. My little girl. I saw her dark eyes and knew I would see for a million miles and past that if I gazed into them. I knew I shouldn’t.
“Bye, baby,” I said. “You and Aruba get going, okay? Don’t stay here anymore.”
The dog waited until she had climbed onto the dock, then leapt up to join her. The boat’s engine rumbled underneath us, and I held my daughter’s eyes as we pulled away from the island. I knew the memory would have to last me for a while. I glanced at Molly, beside me.
“Did you see them?” I asked.
She didn’t answer, but there was enough light for me to see both her smile and her tears. When we were on the dark water, I touched her fingers and slipped something into her palm.
“For you,” I said. “Lucky quarter.”
It was time to sleep.
As we crossed Hollow Lake for the last time, I saw the sky. The moon escorted us, racing across the black treetops like a perfect hot air balloon. It shone down on us from far above, tiny people in a little boat, travelling over deep dark water. It watched us float on bright dreams, downriver to an endless sea, across a map of icebergs and tropical islands and sailing ships.
In the swells and troughs, ribbons of phosphorescence streamed through the water. The colors broke up in the waves and then joined each other again. They were the ties that held us tight, all the lives that were ever lived, all the daughters and all the sons, everything that has been and everything that will be, moving together by design, perfectly and forever.
I squeezed Molly’s hand, and went to sleep.
***