Page 86 of No One Aboard

Lila’s blood ran cold.

“Tell me the truth, Lila,” he commanded, his voice dropping to a baritone croon.

Her body clenched. Had Nico told Francis what he suspected? Would he betray his uncle just to kiss up to his new boss?

She gave him a carefully perplexed look. “Francis, let go.”

He did. He sat back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach. “I wouldn’t worry so much about the kids, Lila. They’re Camerons. They’ll have it all.”

He didn’t know.

Her smile felt fluttery and breathless as she stood again. Her hand tingled with the memory of his strength. “Of course, love.”

Francis raised a glass to her in some kind of backhanded toast. “Just as long as they learn how to take it.”

Chapter 42

Jerry Baugh

Jerry didn’t utter a word the whole way to the fishing spot. Lainey sat at his side in the cockpit ofSheila 2.0as they bumped over the swells. She didn’t speak much either.

Agent Koshida had left Jerry with his card, which Jerry now had in his pocket, the only tangible reminder that he had been there. That the FBI had really showed up on Jerry’s dock step. That Steve’s death had really been...

They jetted over the water, pushing eighty. Ninety. Jerry had to hold onto his cap to keep it from tumbling into oblivion while he steered with one hand. Lainey grabbed onto the edges of her seat, sweat shirt fluttering.

At least the cat was back in the marina onThe Old Eileen. He wouldn’t have enjoyed a ride like this.

Lainey mouthed something to him as she hugged her sweat shirt around her body.

“What?” Jerry shouted.

“Aren’t we almost there?” she yelled.

Jerry realized he hadn’t been paying attention. He was just going. They were a couple miles from the coast at this point, and this was as good a spot as any. He switched off the engine and regretted it immediately. This far from land, thesoundscape smoothed into lapping waves and wind. It was a peacefulness that he lived for, but now he couldn’t stand it.

Jerry stomped over to his fishing supplies and clattered through the various rods to find the right one. He huffed to himself as he blundered with the line and bait. And he made a back-of-the-throat primal sound as he threw the line out into the blue.

Lainey watched him, taking a seat on an overturned bucket. “You think we’ll catch something out here?”

“Dunno.” Jerry mounted a second rod and tossed out the line. “Don’t care.”

He stood still for a second before realizing there was no greater form of torture than this: quietly watching the water that killed Steve.

The water those men pushed him into.

“I need that!” Jerry barked at Lainey, who scrambled off the bucket. He picked it up, letting it scrape the deck, and grabbed fistfuls of tackle, letting it knot up like spider webs and filled the bucket, then dumped it out and did it all over again.

Lainey pursed her lips in concern. “Jerry... You said a guy came to talk to you.”

He slammed the bucket onto the deck and hoped it left a dent.

“So what did he say? Something about the missing people?”

Something about the missing people indeed. Something about how that pretty, rich family were his little brother’s killers. Something about how Jerry no longer cared whether the Camerons lived or died. It wasn’t the kids’ faults, he supposed. Or the wife’s for that matter. But he didn’t care right now. He didn’t fucking care, and if the whole lot of them were feeding fish underwater, the world would be better for it.

Jerry whipped his cap off his head and twisted it into a pretzel. Wished it would snap. He let it unwind, wrinkled and frayed, then shoved it back on his head.

“Jerry...” Lainey pressed, and he whirled on her.