He got more needles.
The Maine Marine Patrol arrived first, and they administered a second dose of naloxone. They knew to do it because once they got the tape off Howard Pelletier’s mouth, he was able to explain what was wrong with Rob Barrett a little better than Rob Barrett had managed to.
A Coast Guard cutter from Rockland arrived on scene next, and the medic on board took a look at Barrett and sent the marine patrol boat racing him back to shore to meet a helicopter. He was unconscious by then and had no memory of the medevac flight that followed.
He was at Pen Bay Medical Center before he was finally stable, let alone coherent.
The police got to him first, and so he learned why Liz had been there from them, not her. He’d asked her to keep an eye on Howard Pelletier, she said. When she saw two men on Howard’s boat, she was curious, so she kept watching from her boat but kept her distance. She also put the sails up. People didn’t think of threats coming from sailboats. She was just a fool out chasing wind, not worthy of a critical eye.
The police had a few other updates.
Ronnie Lord had been pronounced dead on arrival, but Mathias Burke was still alive. He’d been transported to Portland, where a trauma surgeon was working on him. His odds of surviving were low.
Howard Pelletier was bloodied and bruised but otherwise well, and he told the police that Mathias Burke and Ronnie Lord had been lying in wait for him on his boat. He’d gotten aboard that morning and walked right into the barrel of a shotgun. From there, he said, things had gotten messy.
Barrett couldn’t dispute that.
He asked about Don Johansson and was told that Johansson’s body hadn’t yet been recovered. They were looking for him, but it was deep water out there.
Those were all the answers the police could provide. They went through them quickly, because what they wanted was to ask questions, not answer them. This time, Barrett didn’t make any calls to a lawyer. This time, he just talked.
By the time he was done talking, George Kelly was in custody.
The first visitor without a badge was Liz.
She sat beside his bed and held his hand to her cheek with her eyes closed, and she didn’t say a word for a long time, and neither did he. Eventually, she kissed his hand and released it.
“Thank you for today,” he said.
She choked out a laugh. “No problem.”
“I never liked the way you kept those old rescue nets on board,” he said. “I felt like they kept you in the past, thinking about your dad out there in the water. I have a different opinion of those nets now.”
He was going for a laugh or a smile, but she leaned forward, eyes intense, her hair falling across her face, shirt pulling away from her collarbone just enough to show the top edge of the inked script about fair winds and following seas.
“Do you remember what you told me on the boat?” she asked. “When it was just the two of us, do you remember what you said?”
“I asked for needles, right?”
“Yes. But before the marine patrol got there, you were trying to explain something else. Do you remember that?”
He didn’t.
“You wanted me to know that the sky looked friendly,” she said. “I thought you were trying to convince me of that because of the story I’d told you about my dad. About his question of how it would look to you if you were drowning in open water. Whether the sky held any hope. You don’t remember telling me that?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t.”
She considered that and then said, “That’s better, actually. I’m glad you don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s more likely that it was true.”
He reached out and touched the side of her face and she took his hand again and kissed it gently.
“How much did you see of what happened on Howard’s boat?” he asked.
“None of it. Once Howard got so far from his traps, I knew there was something wrong, so I followed him, and I saw he wasn’t alone. I was keeping my distance and changing course, but then the fog came in and made it easier to stay out of sight. I couldn’t see a damn thing, though, and I was terrified I’d run right up on them. When I heard the shotgun, I just figured it was time to take chances. I think his idea was to get isolated and get deep. It’s about seven hundred feet deep off those rocks.”
He thought about that and wondered how long it would have taken him to make the bottom.
“Don’s still out there somewhere,” he said.
“Yes.” She studied his face. “I’ve heard that they’re searching his house now. Treating it like a crime scene.”
Barrett closed his eyes, thinking of Megan and David and the police who were surely arriving at their new Florida home. “It is a crime scene,” he said. “But the man still saved me twice today.”
She didn’t answer. He said, “And then you did the same, of course.”
“And then the marine patrol did. And then the Coast Guard. And then the doctors. It takes a village with you, Rob.”
“How’s Howard?”
“Better than he looked, I’m told.”
“He won’t be for long. If they haven’t told him about George Kelly yet, they’ll be telling him soon,” Barrett said. “And when he learns the truth, it is going to be devastating.”
They told Howard that night, and a few hours later, he came by to see Barrett.
His arm was in a sling, and he had stitches in his lip and a bandage on his forehead, but he moved all right. His first questions, predictably and excruciatingly, were all about Barrett—how was he feeling, was there any long-term damage, did he think the doctors here were good enough, because Howard had a cousin who had a friend who worked at a hospital in Boston that was supposed to be the best, and he could call…
“I’m fine, Howard. I’m just fine.”
“Ayuh, good, I just…you know, want the best for you. If you need anything, you just say the word.”
“What have you heard from the police?” Barrett asked.
Howard’s eyes watered, and he blinked, looked away, and gathered himself. Then he spoke facing the wall.
“That Ian’s father was holding a lot back all this time. Is that your understanding too?”
“Yes.”
Howard nodded slowly, as if turning that thought over and giving it due consideration. He started to speak twice and had to stop each time. Then he finally got his voice back.
“I liked that kid,” he said. “I really did. And Jackie? She loved him. Would’ve left the island for him.”
“I know it.”
Howard turned back to him, a slight tremor in his jaw, and said, “I’m real glad she didn’t know that about his family. Or about him.”
Barrett watched him and the memory of George Kelly saying clean grief of tragedy floated through his mind and he couldn’t think of anything to say.
Howard broke the silence. “Mathias might make it, I hear.”
“Really? They told me he was dying.”
Howard shook his head. “Doctors down there got him stabilized, I guess. He’s supposed to pull through.”
“How you feel about that?” Barrett asked, though he wasn’t sure himself.
“He’ll go to prison if he lives,” Howard said. “And he’ll stay in. No question about that this time.”
“No, there isn’t.”
“So it’s fine, then. Maybe I’m even rooting for him to pull through, a little bit. Because maybe now he’ll answer questions.”
“Don’t count on that,” Barrett said.
“Ayuh, I guess I should know better than that by now. People who know things, they don’t share them, do they?”
Barrett didn’t respond. Howard looked at the floor.
“I liked that kid. He was good to her. I need to remember that.” He looked up at Barrett again, and his eyes were hard. “I’m going to need you to remind me of that, okay?”
“Okay. We’ll both need help remembering that.”
“You think Jackie knew about the drugs?” Howard asked. “About all the trouble that was around him?”
“Nothing I’ve heard suggests that she knew about that.”
Howard adjusted his sling, shifting the weight of his wounded arm. When he finally spoke again, his voice was so soft that it was scarcely audible.
“I hope she didn’t.”