The Stranger in the Lifeboat(45)

“Listen, I apologize for what I put you through early on,” LeFleur said. “I just thought … well, you know.”

Dobby nodded slowly. “We’re both mourning someone we lost, Inspector.”

“Jarty.”

“Jarty,” Dobby repeated, smiling. He got out of the car, took a step, then turned back. “Speaking of names, I think it’s Rum Rosh.”

“What?”

“Rum Rosh. It’s in Psalms, the original Hebrew. It means ‘God lifted my head.’ I learned it as a kid. A priest taught me. The Irish and their churches, you know.”

LeFleur stared at him. “What are you saying?”

“I think whoever found that raft was having a laugh on you, Jarty.”

He threw his duffel over his shoulder and walked into the terminal.



LeFleur drove back toward his office, thinking about what Dobby had said. He pictured the first day he and Rom had met, and their trip up to Marguerita Bay. Rom had let LeFleur examine the raft by himself. And every time LeFleur glanced over, Rom was looking away, staring at the hills, as if he’d never seen the place before.

But he had seen the place before. Otherwise how would he have reported the location? And Marguerita Bay was not easy to get to; you had to park on that lookout and walk down that path. Teenagers would often hang out there, smoking and drinking, because they could easily hide if they saw someone coming …

LeFleur hit the brakes and spun the jeep around.



Twenty minutes later, he was hurrying down that path to the water. When he reached the beach, he removed his shoes and splashed along the wet sand. The sky was without clouds, and the sea came up a turquoise blue. As he edged around a tall rock formation, he saw a thin, bearded figure sitting in the distance, leaning back on his palms, as small waves broke and reached his legs before retreating.

LeFleur got within a few feet before the man turned his head.

“Rom?”

“Hello, Inspector.”

“A lot of folks have been looking for you.”

The man said nothing. LeFleur squatted down next to him.

“How long have you been on this island? Really?”

“A little while.”

“And that raft had been here long before you came to the station.”

“That’s right.”

“You always knew I’d find that notebook, didn’t you? You’d already read it.”

“Yes.”

“And you left me those last pages in that envelope.”

“I did.”

LeFleur pursed his lips. “Why?”

“I thought they might help you.” Rom turned. “Did they?”

“Yeah,” LeFleur sighed. “Actually, they did.” He paused, studying Rom’s face. “But how did you know I needed help?”

“When we first met. The photo of your family. Your wife. Your little girl. I saw the pain in your eyes. I knew you must have lost someone in that picture.”

LeFleur grunted. Rom raked his hands through the sand.

“Did you believe the story you read, Inspector?”

“Some of it.”

“Which part?”

“Well. I believe Benji was in the raft.”

“Just him?”

LeFleur thought. “No. Not just him.”

Rom wiggled his fingers and produced a tiny crab. He held it up. “Did you know a crab will escape its shell thirty times before it dies?” He looked out to sea. “This world can be a trying place, Inspector. Sometimes you have to shed who you were to live who you are.”

“Is that why you changed your name?” LeFleur asked. “Rum Rosh? ‘God lifted your head’?”

The man smiled but never looked his way. LeFleur felt the hot sun on the back of his neck. He stared at the empty blue horizon. The distance from Cape Verde to this beach was thousands of miles.

“How did you do it, Benji? How did you survive all that way alone?”

“I was never alone,” the man said.



Over time, Montserrat quieted considerably. The journalists departed. The raft was shipped to a Boston laboratory. Leonard Sprague, the police commissioner, was disappointed that the media attention, while sparking curiosity, did not increase tourist travel to the island.

The TV reporter Tyler Brewer won an award for his extensive Galaxy coverage, then went on to other stories. The company that insured the yacht was forced to pay a large settlement after analysts concluded that the sinking was caused not by neglect but rather by a mammal attack that broke holes in the fragile hull and caused a catastrophic explosion in the engine room.

The families of those lost at sea felt a certain closure, knowing the final resting place of their loved ones. And in the weeks that followed, a few of those families received unusual correspondence. Alexander Campbell, the youngest son of Nevin Campbell, got an unsigned letter that stated his father’s regrets at not spending more time with him. Dev Bhatt, the husband of Mrs. Latha Laghari, received an envelope with two earrings inside it.

Six months later, Jarty LeFleur and his wife Patrice went to a doctor and learned that Patrice was pregnant. “Are you serious?” she said, then broke into tears and grabbed her husband, whose mouth dropped open in happy astonishment.

And not long after that, a rent-a-car drove to the lookout above Marguerita Bay, and a man in black jeans and boots walked down to the beach, holding a tattered notebook. When he spotted a thin man heading his way, they both started running, yelling each other’s names, until they embraced in a long-awaited reunion.