Edward stepped up to the curve of the shoreline street. He waited for a two cars to pass before crossing. Someone called out to him as he reached the other side.
“Hey, Edward!”
Police Inspector Woodes was standing across the street and down the sidewalk. He had the sleeves of his pressed white shirt rolled halfway up his arm, and he had a hand up as if hailing a cab. When he made eye contact with Edward, he brought his hand down. His chromed badge flashed.
Edward turned his head to look up the pier at where Mary’s blue boat was tied up. He turned back and watched as Inspector Woodes looked both ways and then crossed the street.
“Hi, Edward.”
Edward looked down, feeling overheated and fatigued. When he looked back up, Woodes was standing in front of him.
“Edward, do you have a minute?”
Edward glanced at the pier’s gated entrance.
“You see Mary, today?” Woodes stood over him, maybe three inches taller.
“What?” The sweat on his back and armpits became ice. Waiting for the policeman to grab his wrist.
“You OK?”
“Me? Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” Edward wiped back his damp hair, and then scratched his nose.
“Well, you look like I scared you. You know I think I scare a lot of people.” Woodes let out a deep laugh like a trombone.
“I’m sort of in a hurry. What do you need?” Edward moved his hands up to rest on his waist before quickly dropping them.
“Oh, OK. Sorry. Well, I was just wondering if you’ve seen Mary. I mean are you going to see Mary?”
“Going to see Mary? No – why do you ask?”
Woodes blinked at Edward’s impatience.
“I thought you might be going to the library. See, I just got back from a three-day trip, and have been so busy – I forgot my daughter’s overdue books. There in the back seat of my car. Completely slipped my mind.” He let a guilty laugh slide out. “And right now, I need to get back to the station for a conference call. Well,” he said with a regretful tone. “I guess Mary’s not working today?”
“No, sorry. Haven’t seen her.” Edward clapped his sweaty hands together in an attempt to signal an end to their conversation.
“You haven’t seen her? But…” Woodes nodded in the direction of the pier. “Isn’t that her boat?”
“Her boat? Well, yeah, she’s at home – I mean – she leant me her boat yesterday, so I haven’t seen her today.” Using a thumb, he wiped a drop of sweat off the tip of his nose. “That’s what I thought you meant. Today. Today, I haven’t seen her.” He displayed a smile that lasted two seconds.
“Oh.” Woodes looked at him. “OK. What’re you doing here in Road Town?”
“What am I doing here? I’m just looking for a part to fix a leaky faucet.”
“Oh, OK.” Woodes clicked his tongue and nodded. “So you’re not going up to the library? I just thought you might be able to do me a huge favor and drop off those books.” He paused, waiting for Edward to answer. When Edward didn’t reply, a smile formed. “Guess I’ll get up there tomorrow. They’re already overdue. With the fines I have to pay, probably be cheaper to buy them.” He gave a short laugh.
“Yeah. I’ll see you around,” Edward said. He turned and started walking toward the pier.
“Oh, OK. See you… around.”
Edward did not look back as he walked to the boat. He was thinking about how long it would take Mr. Bones to contact the drug runners. What kind of networking connection did he have? Mr. Bones probably had to call his supplier or a middleman. That man would probably have an address book with others who had connections or did the same job. Or did Mr. Bones have a direct number? Edward told himself it would work out. It would be resolved. He needed to believe that. He untied the boat, and climbed in. When he was in the driver’s seat, he looked back. Woodes was still there at the entrance to the pier, watching him. Edward turned the ignition key. The motor growled to life. He put it in gear and moved off.
Go home. Wait.
~~~
As the windows darkened and the phone remained silent, the sunset brought a blackness that filled him. It started out consuming his heart. Then it moved over his lungs and he had to take long slow breaths. Around nine o’clock, he picked up the phone receiver to check that the line was still working. Then he sat on his bed with his laptop on, giving himself reasons why everything would be OK. It exhausted him, turning his stomach, straining his muscles. He sat in the dark room for a long time, looking at things with only the glow from his computer screen, before turning on the light. Lot 17 of Peters Island became completely cut off from the world, a thousand times more desolate than when he first arrived. The emptiness inside him sucked at his chest. He paced the room. Then he sat. Then he stood. Then he leaned against a wall, his cheek against its cool surface. She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone. The pillow she had used was still indented. Her scent was still on a T-shirt she had worn and put over the back of the chair. Strands of her hair were in her hairbrush. If he closed his eyes, he could see her next to him. He could almost feel her softness and see himself on the bed with her.
He opened his eyes and cried out. The complete stillness of the house swallowed his sounds like the depths of the ocean beyond. He talked to himself, the echo of his own voice his only reply. He drifted over to the desk and pulled open the drawer, pushing aside brushes and pens and charcoal sticks. He pulled out a little notebook. It was something he had put away when he arrived. He had forgotten about it, never really needing it. Now, he flipped through the notebook, gazing over numbers, appreciating every detail, reminiscing about past times spent with each person until he found the number he needed. He started the internet phone on his laptop and entered the number. The line rang five times before it was picked up.
“Hello?” His father sounded tired and suspicious. He probably had caller ID and could see the strange number. Just hearing his father’s voice brought him home and some comfort. It was warm and kind and caring, and Edward opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Tears formed and slipped from his eyes, running down his face.
“Dad.” It was barely a whisper.
“Edward? Is that you?”
“Dad… ”
“Edward, are you alright?”
“I messed up.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“No.”
“What’s wrong?”
He couldn’t tell his father anything. The most his father could do was call the police and complicate things.
“Please… just talk to me. How is mom? How are you?” Edward knew his own voice sounded feeble and emotional.
His father waited a few moments before speaking delicately.
“Well, OK.” There was a pause while his father muted a TV. “Your mother’s good. She’s out at her women’s group meeting. Don’t ask me what they do, but they meet every Wednesday night. I’ve been fishing a lot. Sometimes go out with some guys here – they’re more serious about it than me.” His father’s voice – memories – filled part of the emptiness inside him.
Edward squeezed his eyes closed and tried to command the closing of the void in his chest, but it stayed.
“Been volunteering with the prison ministry for a while. It’s sort of a job… guess I can’t completely adjust to retirement. Let’s see…” His father hummed as he thought of his next words as if he sensed how much Edward needed him. “Last week, we went up to Tampa to watch a ball game…” His father never did like talking about himself. Once, when he had won an award at work, it went straight into a box in the attic, but now he went on for ten minutes, speaking of trivial details of life in Sarasota.