Read Online Discretion by David Balzarini - Free Book Online Page A

going to get to castrate the fucker who took her?” We share a laugh and for a second, I allow myself to dream of a happy ending.
    “I hope so, Mike. I hope so. She’s got to be alive somewhere.”
    “You know, I’ve been thinking, and I keep asking myself, why would she run? That’s what I don’t get. She’s got tons of friends. Good family. You. That’s a great life. What’s to run away from?”
    “That’s what the PI is trying to find out now.”
    Mike nods, contemplating.
    He’s not surprised.
    “What’s he found?” Mike asks. I think there’s anxiety in his voice, but I can’t be sure.
    “Not much. He thinks he’ll find a witness sooner or later.”
    Mike just nods and says nothing for a while.
    After a few conversations about life, women, and medical use of marijuana, we arrive at Apache Lake. The population in the area is two families, with little kids armed with fishing poles. Mike pulls the red Ford F150 to a stop and shuts down the engine, grabs his tactical bag and a duffel, slings them over his shoulder like he’s carrying pillows.
    Get a boat and go out on the lake.
    “I think we should go east. The cops have been all over the trail. Let’s find some uncharted territory,” Mike says.
    I look at my friend, knowing he will not understand, but he must accept what I have to say. “We have to take the boat, Mike. We need to be on the water.”
    “Really?” Mike says, eyeing me. Mayra sighs while holding a bag of supplies.
    “The cops have been everywhere on the water the last three days, Colin. What do you expect to find?” Mike asks me.
    I pause a moment, debating how to answer him. “Natalie,” I say, and for the first time in a while, I genuinely smile—it’s not to be polite or to hide the pain. I believe she is going to be okay and I’m close to bringing her home. I have nothing to back up that emotion other than faith—Christel, sent from above, will guide me.
    Mike and Mayra look at each other and agree to play along, by body language only, and neither believe there’s a reason for any of this; this is a shot in the dark, hoping to hit a rare bird that flies by day.
    “You’re the boss,” Mike says, conceding to my leadership.
    Fifteen minutes later, we board Mike’s sport boat, a white and black four-seater Stingray he bought last summer with his college savings, and pull away from the dock.
    Head northeast, toward the campgrounds.
    I relay Christel’s instructions to Mike, and he accepts them without question. We are about two miles from the camping grounds, moving at a slow pace on calm lake water. The temperature is about ninety-three and the sun is bearing down from a cloudless sky, with no wind for reprieve.
    We are heading for a destination we don’t understand. An eternal destiny. A quest for redemption that could be our doom.
    Natalie is close by.
    “Colin, so what is the plan?” Mike says, breaking the silence.
    There will be a boat with two men fishing from the bow. White, thirty feet long with brown trim through the middle.
    “It’s not far. Keep going,” I say.
    Mike and Mayra exchange glances, and think about ways to change leadership, as no boats or people are about.
    They are concerned about you. About how you expect to find her.
    “What are you looking for? Do you think after all this time she’s still out here? On the water?”
    Tell him it’s a guess.
    “I know…I know…it’s just that I had the whim…that maybe we could go somewhere no one has.”
    Mike laughs. “Hope for the best, right?”
    Mayra watches Mike for a sign, then shrugs. “Well, we can’t cause any harm, right? Boating on the lake isn’t going to hurt anybody.”
    “Hard to say, Mayra. Don’t jinx us yet.”
    We cruise in silence for several minutes. Around a bend, and there it is—about two hundred yards away is a white and brown Bayliner Cabin Cruiser, anchored about a hundred yards from the shore. A beautiful vessel with a long deck and three windows on the hull,