The Shadow Box(63)

“He was driving the boat.”

“This sounds like a kids’ book. Do you think she read it somewhere?” Conor asked.

“I don’t know,” Tom said. “It’s so far fetched. The kids had been in that yellow raft, and the blast blew them into the water. They both fell overboard. She said the ‘merman’ rescued Charlie and was calling her name, as if he wanted to save her too. She said he took Charlie to a sea castle that she had seen before in a picture, and it had stone birds all around it.”

“What else did she say about, um, the merman?” Conor asked.

“Nothing,” Tom said. “She got upset and started to cry. She was begging me to rescue Charlie—I called the nurse.”

“I’m sure that was the right thing to do,” Conor said.

“It all struck me as pure fantasy—a way to cope with the nightmare she’s living through. But I don’t know.”

“You can’t tell me you’re taking the merman seriously,” Conor said.

“I don’t know, Con. She drew pictures in a book, and I can’t stop thinking that they show something that really happened—or that she believes happened.”

“Where’s the book?” Conor asked.

“At the hospital,” Tom said. “She had it with her in the solarium, and she let me look through it, told me what everything meant.”

“She trusts you,” Conor said. “You rescued her.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Tom said. He still felt miserable about Charlie. His younger brother must have read it on his face; he reached over and patted him on the back. “Thanks,” Tom said.

“Look,” Conor said. “You know none of this is real, right?”

“It is to Gwen,” Tom said and saw his brother looking at him as if he thought he were crazy.

“I’ll call Jen and fill her in,” Conor said. “Thanks for the lead.”

“Want to see what’s left of the boat?” Tom asked. “While you’re here?”

“Definitely,” Conor said.

Tom led Conor toward the large boathouse. The double sliding doors were open, and even from ten yards away the smell of burned fiberglass and wood was overpowering. As often as Tom viewed the wreck, he was shocked that anyone had survived it.

“Wow,” Conor said.

“I know,” Tom said.

The two brothers stood in the doorway, slowly made their way around the hull. A large hole had been blown in the starboard side, and the burn pattern showed flames had leaped up to deck level, destroying the superstructure: the cabin and the flying bridge.

“With a hole that size, she would have sunk in minutes,” Tom said.

“There’s almost nothing left,” Conor said. “How did anyone get off in time?” Conor asked. “Dan, Gwen? Charlie, if Gwen really did see him in the water?”

They stood there for a few more minutes, solemnly gazing at the boat, looking for any small detail that might provide answers. Tom’s thoughts were racing, unable to get Gwen’s story out of his mind. He figured that Conor must think he was crazy, but then his brother turned to him.

“I want to see that book of her drawings,” Conor said. “Will you come to the hospital with me, ask her if she’ll show me?”

“Yes,” Tom said. “When?”

“How about now?” Conor said.

The brothers got into Conor’s sedan and went straight to Shoreline General—just a few miles away from the coast guard pier. But when they got to the nurse’s station on Gwen’s floor, a nurse Tom had never met before told them that Gwen had been discharged.

“When?” Tom asked.

“This morning.”

“I thought she was supposed to be here at least a few more days,” Tom said.

“That I’m not at liberty to discuss,” the nurse said. “You’ll have to speak to her father or get his permission to talk to her doctor.”

“Did her father pick her up?” Tom asked.

“Again,” the nurse said. “You’ll have to—”

“We get it,” Conor said. “Come on, Tom.”

They walked out of the hospital, and Tom felt his heart sinking. “I have a bad feeling about the whole thing,” he said. “They told me Gwen cried when her father entered the room. Maybe just because seeing him reminded her of what happened but Con—I don’t think so. I think she was scared. I half expect to hear that a guy covered in black scales took her away.”

Conor called his old partner, Jen Miano, and asked her about Gwen. He spoke for a minute, hung up, and turned to Tom.

“She’s at home. Her father picked her up. She’s resting in bed,” Conor said.

“Jen just took his word for it?”

“No. She was there earlier—went over to continue questioning. He had just arrived home with Gwen; she saw him walk her to her room.”

“Okay,” Tom said, still feeling uneasy. “I guess I’d better get Maggie over to her soon.”

“Yeah,” Conor said. “Man, I would like to see that book. I’d say let’s go now, but Jen said Gwen’s been through enough for today.”

The two brothers stood in the hospital parking lot, deep in thought. Tom wouldn’t have been surprised to know his brother’s thoughts mirrored his own: a little girl in a yellow boat, her brother spirited away by mermen, and a boat that followed vessels about to sink.