Page 55 of Deadline

“Yeah,” he said around a sigh. “Under all her self-possession, I think she’s scared shitless.”

“Where’d you leave it?”

“With her afraid to think the unthinkable. But she’s thinking it anyway.”

“What’s the atmosphere like between the two of you?”

“I won’t count on a birthday card.”

After a moment of thought, Headly said, “I’ll check out the victims of that house fire myself. But it’s Sunday of a holiday weekend. I don’t know how far I’ll get until everybody goes back to work on Tuesday. What are you going to do in the meantime?”

“Wait until court reconvenes. I’ll stay and see the trial through to the verdict, I guess. After that, I don’t know. Harriet keeps calling, but I don’t answer. I may already be fired.”

“May not be a bad thing.”

“May not.”

“How are you doing otherwise?”

“I got a lot of sun yesterday.”

“Sleeping better?”

“The sound of the ocean has a lulling effect. Look, I’m down to one bar. If my phone cuts out…”

Headly gave another grunt that said he knew Dawson was skirting the issue, but he wasn’t going to waste limited cell phone service beating a dead horse.

“Don’t get mad if you can’t reach me,” Dawson said. “On my way from the mainland, the ferry captain told me that cell service on the island is unreliable on good days. When a storm blows in, forget it.”

* * *

Shortly after eight o’clock that evening a lightning bolt knocked out the power in Amelia’s house, plunging it into darkness.

“Mommy?” Grant said tremulously.

“It’s okay.” Her reassurance was drowned out by the booming thunder.

Fortunately they were all gathered around the kitchen table playing Chutes and Ladders. Had she and Stef not been within reach, the boys would have been even more frightened than they were. Grant left his chair and climbed onto her lap. Stef reached across the corner of the table and took Hunter’s hand.

Amelia had thoug

ht the afternoon would never end. She’d managed to rinse the sand from Hunter’s eye, but he’d squalled through the process. To soothe him afterward, she’d made him and Grant cups of cocoa and marshmallows.

Paintboxes and pads of paper were brought out, and those had kept them entertained for a while. Hunter painted a seascape featuring her, himself, his brother, Stef, and a tall, shirtless figure with shoulder-length yellow hair sticking out from a baseball cap.

“That’s Dawson,” he told her proudly. “I’m gonna paint a battleship and give it to him, too.”

Not wanting to incite another trauma, she didn’t tell him it was unlikely he would ever see his hero again.

She and Stef stretched dinner out for as long as possible, killing time until they could put the boys to bed. They had agreed to play one more round of the board game before taking them upstairs.

And now the lights had gone out.

“Everything’s fine,” she said brightly. “There’s a flashlight in that big bottom drawer.” She tried to get up, but Grant clung to her. “No, Mommy, hold me.” She carried him with her and got the flashlight from the drawer. She clicked it on. “See? This is an adventure. Grant, you can help me check the fuse box. Maybe the lightning just tripped the breaker switch.”

But after she flipped every switch with no success, Grant said dolefully, “The ’lectricity isn’t working.”

“No it’s not, but we have flashlights.”