The Stranger in the Lifeboat(25)

The rest of my life seems inconsequential after that—where I worked, what neighborhood I lived in, what I thought about certain things. There was you, Annabelle. Only you. I am near the end of this page and realize I can sum up my life before I reach the bottom.

I am thirty-seven years on this Earth, and I have been a fool for most of them. In the end, I failed you, as I always feared I would.

I am sorry for everything.





Land





LeFleur chugged the remainder of his coffee and killed the engine on his jeep. The morning was cloudless and the forecast was for hot, steamy weather.

As he carried his briefcase to the front door of the station, he was already thinking of what hours he could carve out to continue reading the notebook. He had barely begun when Patrice interrupted him. But he’d read enough to know something strange had happened on that life raft, when they discovered a man floating in the sea:

Nina touched his shoulder and said, “Well, thank the Lord we found you.”

Which is when the man finally spoke.

“I am the Lord,” he whispered.

LeFleur had been perplexed enough by the mere existence of this notebook—and all the questions it raised about the Galaxy sinking—but now he felt compelled to learn the passengers’ reaction to this self-proclaimed deity. LeFleur had a long list of issues he would raise with God, should he ever have such an encounter. He doubted God would like them.

He thought about Rom. He’d told him to come by the office around noon. The guy doesn’t even have a cell phone. As he pushed the station door open, two figures quickly rose to their feet. One was a rather large man in a navy suit and open-collared shirt. The other LeFleur recognized immediately. His boss. Leonard Sprague. The commissioner.

“Jarty, we need to talk,” Sprague said.

LeFleur swallowed hard. “My office?” he said. He chided himself for sounding defensive.

Sprague was a puffy older man, bald and bearded. He’d had the job for over a decade. Normally he and LeFleur met at headquarters, every couple of months. This was the first time he had come to LeFleur’s place.

“Am I to understand you found a raft from the Galaxy?” he began.

LeFleur nodded. “I was just writing up my report—”

“Where?” the other man interrupted.

“Excuse me?”

“Where did you find the raft?”

LeFleur forced a grin. “Sorry, I didn’t get your name—”

“Where?” the man snapped.

“Tell him, Jarty.” “North shore,” LeFleur said. “Marguerita Bay.”

“Is it still there?”

“Yeah. I had the locals—”

But the man popped up and was heading to the door. “Let’s go,” he barked over his shoulder.

LeFleur turned to Sprague. “What the hell is going on?” he whispered. “Who is this guy?”

“He works for Jason Lambert,” Sprague said. He rubbed his thumb against his fingers. Money.





Seven





News

ANCHOR: Tonight, Tyler Brewer completes his tribute series on the victims of the Galaxy yacht with a profile of a famous name in swimming who, tragically, was lost to the sea.

REPORTER: Thank you, Jim. Geri Reede was most at home in the water. From the age of three, she was swimming at a local pool in Mission Viejo, California. Before she was ten, she was competing in national events. A self-described “pool rat” and the daughter of a swim-instructor mother and an oceanographer father, Geri qualified for the US Olympic team when she was nineteen. She went to the Games in Sydney and won a gold medal in the breaststroke and two silvers in the relay events. She made the team again four years later and captured a silver medal in Athens before retiring from the sport and spending a year as a global ambassador for world hunger.

At twenty-six, Reede decided to try medical school, but left after two semesters. Describing herself as “restless” without competitive sports, she spent a year crewing with the yacht Athena, an America’s Cup challenger.

Eventually Reede partnered with a fitness company to create Water Works!, a health-care line for athletes that blossomed into a hugely successful company. Reede’s signature spiked blond hair and smart if somewhat acerbic style endeared her to fans, and she became a spokesperson in the Water Works! ad campaigns.

Although Geri Reede never married or had children, she often spoke about the importance of early swimming lessons for kids. “Fear of the water is one of the earliest fears we have,” she once said. “The faster we get over it, the faster we learn how to overcome others.”

Reede was thirty-nine years old when she vanished with nearly four dozen others aboard the Galaxy.

“Geri was a trailblazer and an inspiration for young women everywhere,” said Yuan Ross, a spokesperson for USA Swimming. “She was somebody you wanted on your team, in the pool and in life. Losing her is a tragedy.”





Sea





My dear Annabelle. It’s been days since I last wrote you. A weakness has taken hold of my body and my soul. I can barely lift pen to paper. So much has happened, some of which I still cannot accept.

By our nineteenth day, hunger and thirst had completely overtaken us. We’d eaten every part of the bird that was edible. Geri balled up some of the flesh in an attempt at fishing. She fashioned a hook from a small wing bone and dropped the line in the water. As exhausted as we were, we pulled ourselves over to watch.