The Water Keeper(46)

I looked at the man and shook my head.

The body on the table was not Angel.

He returned the sheet over the woman’s face. I lifted Summer off the floor and carried her to the elevator, where we rode to the surface.

The human body does not like pain. Either physical or emotional. In order to protect ourselves, our bodies do stuff that sometimes we can’t control. Especially when that pain is intense. Somewhere en route to the elevator, Summer’s body had had enough. She passed out, falling limp in my arms and becoming deadweight.

Ellie followed as I carried Summer to a bench beside a fountain. Ellie asked one of the nurses for a bag of ice, which we placed on the back of Summer’s neck. Minutes later, her eyes opened.

She sat for a long moment, shaking her head. Finally, she lay back down and curled into a ball. She spoke to whoever would listen. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever done wrong in my life. I’m sorry for every—”

Words wouldn’t help this. I wrapped an arm around her and held her while she tried to make sense of the nonsensical. Finally, the emotion overwhelmed the words and she just wept.





Chapter 19


Ellie sat and I held Summer while she emptied herself. It wasn’t pretty. An hour passed. Toward lunch, my phone rang. Colorado again. Soon as I answered, he launched in. “Fire and Rain is docked in West Palm. Taking on crew and fueling as we speak.”

“Where?”

“Just sent you the location.”

The world was spinning pretty fast. I needed to focus. To think beyond today. “You got any room out there?”

“What?” He chuckled. “You mean like available rooms?”

He knew what I was asking. “If I find Angel—”

“What about her mom?”

I studied Summer. “Yeah, probably her too.”

He continued, “You know I do.”

“Can you send the—”

He interrupted me. “Already there. West Palm Executive. Parked in hangar number two.”

I studied the world around me. “Thanks. I’m not sure how long any of this will take.”

“We never do.”

I hung up and spoke to Summer. “I think we found the boat.”

She stood, wobbled, and caught her balance. “I’m going with you.”

“I think—”

She cut me off and something chiseled her face. As if it were cut from stone. She spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m going with you.” I tried to object, but she was having none of it. “Murph, or whatever your name is—” She gripped my bicep like a vise. “I’m with you.” While I heard her voice, my mind was focused on her hand squeezing my arm and the absence of fingernails.

She’d bitten them to the quick.

I turned to Ellie. “What about you?”

She pointed over her shoulder. “I’ll stay here.”

“You got any money for food?”

“Maybe.”

I handed her several twenty-dollar bills. “If you think of it, you might take Clay something as well. He looks like he could eat.”

Ellie pocketed the money, suggesting she had agreed to stay with Clay and Gunner. As Summer and I walked out of the hospital, footsteps sounded behind us. I turned to find Ellie staring up at me. A question in her eyes. It was the first sign of weakness I’d detected.

In my line of work, I’d encountered my fair share of the abandoned. The forgotten. I’d done my time on the island of misfit toys. And in my time on that beach, I’d learned something. Rejection is the deepest wound of the human soul. Bar none. And only one thing can heal it.

When Ellie opened her mouth, she exposed that wound. Her voice was weak. Unsure. “You coming back?”

I stepped toward her. “Yes.”

She half turned but then turned back. “You lying?”

“No.”

“Prove it.”

I took off Fingers’ Rolex and held it up. “You know what this is?”

She eyed it and nodded.

I clasped it about her wrist. “I want it back.”

I turned to go but then thought better of it. I held up a single finger and motioned for her to do the same.

She protested. “What?”

“I’m wanting you to touch my fingertip with the tip of yours.”

“I’m not a real touchy-feely kind of person.”

I knew this. I waited. Both my silence and my waiting were purposeful.

Finally, she held up her finger and touched the tip of mine. With my index finger extended, I uncurled the other four fingers, leaving my palm facing outward toward her and all five fingers extended. At my prodding, she mirrored my hand, allowing our five fingertips to touch. Finally, I pressed my palm and fingers flat against hers, then slowly curled our fingers together. Locking hands.

She looked at our two hands the way people inspect their cars after a hit-and-run.

“Is this supposed to mean something to me?”

“Years ago, I was trying to find a little girl. When I did, she was scared and it was dark. There were some bad men trying to find us, so I had to leave her and find them before they found us. There was the chance that I might not make it back.” I motioned to our hands. “When I returned in the dark, I stretched out my hand. Speaking without opening my mouth. Over the years, it’s become a thing.”