Read Online Fire in the Stars by Barbara Fradkin - Free Book Online

More than likely they had picked up a whole lot of bottom junk. Lizzie could wish all she liked, but he knew there were not many shrimp to be had. Whole beds were near empty now where ten years ago, when he’d first switched from fish to shrimp, the ocean floor had been teeming with the little buggers. All you had to do was dip your net and haul them up.
    No more. The smaller guys like him were lucky to pay for their boat loan, their gas, and the shrimp licence. Screwed once again by the pencil-pushers up in Ottawa, who always gave the big boys first rights. “Careful now!” he shouted back. A stiff wind was coming up, blowing clouds over the rising sun and dropping the temperature five degrees. Waves were beginning to slap the boat around. The net could spin away from her, knocking her clear off the boat into the frigid sea.
    When the ball of the net was almost clear of the water, the boys slowed the winch to check the net. Something looked odd. The boat pitched and fought through the chop, and the ball swirled. Not smooth and symmetrical, but bulging out on one side. Setting the rudder, Norm left the engine and came aft for a closer look. Strange colours peeked through the bulge in the green netting. Not the shiny pink of shrimp nor the silver sheen of fish, but rather a chequered pattern of blue and red.
    â€œPull ’er in slowly, Lizzie,” he said. “Let’s see what we gots here.”
    Together they all guided the load in, bracing themselves against the pitch and toss of the boat. Soon the net was fully in view, the water, sand, and ocean muck streaming from it as it was winched up over the deck. He stopped the winches briefly to study the huge ball of wriggling pink shrimp suspended in the air. Saw the occasional flash of silver fish in the morning light. But something else too, buried in the squirm of shrimp. He peered closer. Cloth? A jacket blown overboard? A boot tossed by a careless sightseer?
    He guided the ball lower toward the deck, turning it slowly for a better look. Spotted a red-and -blue jacket, black pants, and a running shoe.
    Just as he made sense of the whole, Lizzie screamed.
    Chris and Amanda loaded her bike into the back of his truck and were working their way slowly up the northern peninsula, asking questions and showing Phil’s photo in every coastal village along the way. Chris was out of uniform and he’d learned the fine Newfoundland art of banter, but even so, people took his questions seriously. Legends of people lost at sea loomed large in village lore. By the end of the day, Amanda was even more grateful he’d come along.
    It was nearly sundown before they had their first confirmed sighting at the Seaview Motel, a plain white clapboard bungalow on the side of the highway near Black Duck Cove. Phil and Tyler had stayed there two nights earlier. The poor buggers had planned to camp on the beach, the motel keeper said, but the rain was blowing sideways and your man took pity on his boy.
    Amanda nearly jumped for joy. They were on the right track, albeit two days behind. More importantly, Phil hadn’t done anything crazy. He was working his way up the peninsula, still apparently following his plan.
    â€œDid they say where they were going after they checked in?” she asked.
    â€œWell, we didn’t stand dere in the rain chatting, but ’e did ask where they could get a bite of supper. I sent them to Nancy’s Restaurant up the road.”
    â€œDid he use your phone or computer?”
    â€œNudding like dat, darlin’. No computer ’ere anyways. He was after a clean bed and a hot shower, das all.” The motel keeper was laying the accent on a bit thick, Amanda thought, but perhaps in the tourism trade, he figured it was part of his charm. She and Chris had found him changing the sheets in one of his motel rooms and she eyed the accommodations longingly. They were certainly basic, as he’d said, but they looked like