Lethal(52)

Coburn looked behind him at Honor who was poised on the steps. “He smoked weed?”

She admitted it with a small shrug.

“Do you know where he kept his stash?”

She glared, and he gave her a grin, then turned his attention back to the compact chamber. It had a two-burner propane stove that was ghosted over with cobwebs. The door of the small refrigerator stood open. Empty.

“Electricity?” Coburn asked.

“There’s a generator. I don’t know if it still works.”

Doubtful, Coburn thought. He opened two pantry doors that revealed mouse droppings but otherwise bare shelves. There were two bunks separated by an aisle no more than a foot wide. He pointed to a door at the back of the cabin. “The head?”

“I don’t recommend it. I didn’t even when Dad lived here.”

In fact, there was nothing to recommend the boat except that it seemed watertight. The floor was a mess, but it was dry.

“Can we stay here?” she asked.

“Hopefully we won’t have to for more than a few hours.”

“Then what?”

“I’m working on it.”

He went to one of the bunks and peeled back the bare mattress, checking beneath it for varmints. Finding none, he turned to Honor and held his hands out for Emily. Honor handed her over. He deposited her on the mattress.

She wrinkled her nose. “It smells bad.”

“Tough,” Coburn said. “Sit there and don’t get down.”

“Is this gonna be our house?”

“No, sweetheart,” Honor said with forced gaiety as she squeezed into the cabin behind Coburn. “We’re just visiting. Remember when Grandpa lived here?”

The child shook her head. “Grandpa lives in a house.”

“Not Grandpa Stan. Your other grandpa. He lived on this boat. You used to love coming here to see him.”

Emily looked at her blankly.

Coburn could tell that Emily’s lost memory of her grandfather caused Honor heartache, but she put up a brave front. “This is part of our adventure.”

The kid was perceptive enough to recognize a lie when she heard one, but she was also smart enough to stay quiet when her mother was on the verge of losing it. Seeing through Honor’s false enthusiasm, she held her bankie close and turned on Elmo, who broke into cheerful song.

Honor spoke in a whisper. “Coburn, we’ve got to get some food and water at least.”

“By we you mean me.”

She had the grace to look chagrined. “I did, yes. I’m sorry.” She raised her hands at her sides. “I haven’t been here since I buried Dad. I didn’t realize…” She ran out of things to say and looked at him with helplessness. “Please let me call Stan.”

Rather than go through that tired routine, Coburn opened a narrow closet and found a broom, which he handed to her. “Do your best. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”


When two hours had passed and he still hadn’t returned, Honor began pacing the deck of the trawler, her eyes searching the end of the road that had got them here, willing him to reappear, listening above the call of birds for the welcome sound of an approaching car.

She tried not to convey her concern to Emily, who had become increasingly cantankerous and whiny. She was hot, hungry, thirsty. Where did Coburn go? and When’s he coming back? were questions repeated about every five minutes, until Honor lost what little patience she had remaining and snapped at her. “Stop asking me that.”

She didn’t know the answers to Emily’s nagging questions, but the possible answers terrified her. Her overriding fear was that Coburn had abandoned them.

Her father had chosen to dock his boat here specifically because the surrounding forest was swampy, virtually impenetrable, and would provide some shelter from hurricanes. He’d chosen to “retire” here because he liked the isolation of the place. It was off the beaten path and hard to get to. Moreover, he didn’t have to pay rent for a slip at a marina, and here he could avoid other pesky interferences with his freedom, things like rules and regulations, laws and ordinances, fines, and taxes.

He became a virtual hermit, avoiding contact with the outside world as much as possible. To her knowledge, she and Emily were the only other persons ever to come here. Not even Eddie had visited with her.

Coburn had asked her if she knew of a good place to hide. This was an excellent choice, but now she wished she had kept it to herself. The qualities that made it a good hiding place were the same ones that might do her in. The closest connection to civilization was a two-lane state road, and it was more than five miles from here. She couldn’t walk that, not with Emily in tow, and not without water.

She was stuck here until Coburn returned or…

She didn’t allow herself to think of the or. When the sun set and it grew dark, how would she keep Emily from being afraid? How would she maintain her own courage? She was completely without resources or means of communication.

Coburn had refused to leave a cell phone with her.

“I swear I won’t use it.”

“Then why do you want me to leave it?”

“We could have an emergency. A snakebite.”

“Stay out of their way, and they won’t hurt you.”

“I’m sure there are alligators.”