to shore. He either drowned, or a shark got him. Why take the chance on
drawing attention to ourselves by searching for him?"
The other man's pale blue eyes looked beyond Ellis, into the past.
"Ah, but this is Sabin we're talking about, not some ordinary man. How
many times has he slipped away from us? Too many for me to trust that it was so
easy to kill him. We found no remains on the boat, and if, as you say, he
either drowned or was attacked by sharks, there still would have been some evidence.
We've patrolled these waters for two days without finding anything. The logical
thing to do is to move our search to shore."
"We'll be exposing ourselves if we do."
The woman smiled. "Not if we do it right. We must simply be
discreet. Our biggest danger is the possibility that he was picked up by
another boat and taken to a hospital. If he's had the opportunity to talk to
someone, to make some calls, we won't be able to get near him. First we must
find him, though. I agree with Charles. Too much is at stake for us to simply
assume that he's dead."
Ellis's face was grim. "Do you have any idea how large an
area we'll have to cover?"
Charles drew a map of Florida closer. "Our position was
here," he said, marking the spot with an X. "Given the distance and
the tides, which I've already checked, I think we should concentrate our
efforts in this area." He drew a long oval on the map and tapped it with
his pen. "Noelle,
check all the hospitals in the area, and also the police blotters, to find if
anyone has been treated for a gunshot wound. While you're doing that we'll be searching every inch of the
coastline." He leaned back in his chair and surveyed Ellis with his arctic
gaze. "Can you contact your people and find out without arousing
suspicions if he's called anyone?"
Ellis shrugged. "I have a reliable contact."
"Then make it. We may have waited too long as it is."
He would make the call, Ellis
thought, but he was sure it would be a waste of time. Sabin
was dead; these people persisted in acting as if he were some sort of superman
who could disappear into thin air, then miraculously reappear. Okay, so he'd had a reputation when he was in the field; that had
been years ago. He would have lost his edge since then, sitting around at a
dull desk job the way he'd been doing. No, Sabin was dead; Ellis was certain of
it.
Rachel sat on the front porch swing, a newspaper spread across her
lap and heaped with green beans. A dishpan sat on the swing beside her, and she
systematically broke the tips off the beans and peeled the string off them,
then broke the pods into inch-long sections, which she dropped into the
dishpan. She didn't like stringing green beans, but she liked to eat them, so
it was a necessary evil. She kept the swing gently swaying and listened to a
portable radio set on the windowsill. She was listening to an FM country
station, but the volume was turned low because she didn't want to disturb her
patient, who was sleeping peacefully.
She had spent the morning expecting him to finally wake up for
good, but instead he was still alternating between periods of deep sleep, when
the aspirin and sponging got his fever down, and restlessness, when his
temperature soared. He hadn't opened his eyes or spoken again, though once he
had groaned and held his shoulder with his right hand until Rachel loosened his
grip and held his hand, soothing him with soft murmurs of reassurance.
Joe eased up from his position under the oleander bush, a rumble
forming in his throat. Rachel glanced at him, then swept her gaze around the
yard and toward the road, to the left, but could see nothing. It wasn't like
Joe to pay any attention to squirrels or rabbits. "What is it?" she
asked, unable to keep the tightness of apprehension out of her voice, and Joe
responded to her tone by moving to stand directly in front of the steps. The rumble was a full-fledged
growl now, and he was staring toward the pine thicket, toward the slope that
led down to
drawing attention to ourselves by searching for him?"
The other man's pale blue eyes looked beyond Ellis, into the past.
"Ah, but this is Sabin we're talking about, not some ordinary man. How
many times has he slipped away from us? Too many for me to trust that it was so
easy to kill him. We found no remains on the boat, and if, as you say, he
either drowned or was attacked by sharks, there still would have been some evidence.
We've patrolled these waters for two days without finding anything. The logical
thing to do is to move our search to shore."
"We'll be exposing ourselves if we do."
The woman smiled. "Not if we do it right. We must simply be
discreet. Our biggest danger is the possibility that he was picked up by
another boat and taken to a hospital. If he's had the opportunity to talk to
someone, to make some calls, we won't be able to get near him. First we must
find him, though. I agree with Charles. Too much is at stake for us to simply
assume that he's dead."
Ellis's face was grim. "Do you have any idea how large an
area we'll have to cover?"
Charles drew a map of Florida closer. "Our position was
here," he said, marking the spot with an X. "Given the distance and
the tides, which I've already checked, I think we should concentrate our
efforts in this area." He drew a long oval on the map and tapped it with
his pen. "Noelle,
check all the hospitals in the area, and also the police blotters, to find if
anyone has been treated for a gunshot wound. While you're doing that we'll be searching every inch of the
coastline." He leaned back in his chair and surveyed Ellis with his arctic
gaze. "Can you contact your people and find out without arousing
suspicions if he's called anyone?"
Ellis shrugged. "I have a reliable contact."
"Then make it. We may have waited too long as it is."
He would make the call, Ellis
thought, but he was sure it would be a waste of time. Sabin
was dead; these people persisted in acting as if he were some sort of superman
who could disappear into thin air, then miraculously reappear. Okay, so he'd had a reputation when he was in the field; that had
been years ago. He would have lost his edge since then, sitting around at a
dull desk job the way he'd been doing. No, Sabin was dead; Ellis was certain of
it.
Rachel sat on the front porch swing, a newspaper spread across her
lap and heaped with green beans. A dishpan sat on the swing beside her, and she
systematically broke the tips off the beans and peeled the string off them,
then broke the pods into inch-long sections, which she dropped into the
dishpan. She didn't like stringing green beans, but she liked to eat them, so
it was a necessary evil. She kept the swing gently swaying and listened to a
portable radio set on the windowsill. She was listening to an FM country
station, but the volume was turned low because she didn't want to disturb her
patient, who was sleeping peacefully.
She had spent the morning expecting him to finally wake up for
good, but instead he was still alternating between periods of deep sleep, when
the aspirin and sponging got his fever down, and restlessness, when his
temperature soared. He hadn't opened his eyes or spoken again, though once he
had groaned and held his shoulder with his right hand until Rachel loosened his
grip and held his hand, soothing him with soft murmurs of reassurance.
Joe eased up from his position under the oleander bush, a rumble
forming in his throat. Rachel glanced at him, then swept her gaze around the
yard and toward the road, to the left, but could see nothing. It wasn't like
Joe to pay any attention to squirrels or rabbits. "What is it?" she
asked, unable to keep the tightness of apprehension out of her voice, and Joe
responded to her tone by moving to stand directly in front of the steps. The rumble was a full-fledged
growl now, and he was staring toward the pine thicket, toward the slope that
led down to
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