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motioned her away from the bow. She moved to the ice cooler and assumed a slump-shouldered pose, watching him as he spun the steering wheel.
    He said, “I can’t blame you for being disappointed. You were expecting the pale rider and all you got was me.”
    Joey rolled her eyes.
    Stranahan took it easy on the trip back to the island, the kayak bouncing lightly in the backwash of the skiff. Leaning sideways, he said, “I would’ve gladly taken you to the mainland myself. What the hell were you thinking?”
    “I was thinking you’re probably going to call the Coast Guard or the police, regardless, and that’s not what I want.”
    “Where were you going?”
    “To surprise my husband. To enjoy the look on his face when he saw I was still alive.”
    “And then what—let him try to murder you again?”
    “So maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea I’ve ever had,” Joey said. “I’m just so damn furious—I was going to wait ‘til he was taking a shower and then sneak in the bathroom and yank open the curtain. I thought maybe I could give him a heart attack.”
    “Great scene,” Stranahan said, “but not a great plan.”
    “I thought of a better one. Want to hear it?”
    “Nope,” he said.
    “It came to me all of a sudden while I was floating around out here in your boat,” she said. “I think you’ll approve.”
    “Doubtful,” said Stranahan. “And for what it’s worth, I keep my promises. There was no need to run away—I wasn’t going to call the cops until you were ready.”
    Joey tugged the rubber band out of her ponytail. “What if I’m never ready?”
    “That’s the new plan? You want everybody to keep on thinking you’re dead?”
    “Mainly my homicidal shithird of a husband.”
    Stranahan played along. “And this is so you can disappear to someplace far away, right? Take a new name. Start a new life.”
    “Oh no,” Joey said, “this is so I can ruin his.”
    “Ah, sweet revenge.”
    “Justice is a better word for it.”
    “Please.” Stranahan laughed. She was a fireball, this one.
    “Joey, what about your folks and your family? Your friends? You really want to put them through that sort of agony?”
    She informed him that her parents were dead and that her only brother lived on the other side of the world. “Him, I’ll tell,” she said. “He’ll be cool with it.”
    “And your boss? The people you work with?”
    “I quit my job when I got married,” she said. “Also, you might as well know I’ve got money, a ridiculous amount—more than enough to do what I have in mind for Chaz.”
    “Christ, you’re serious.”
    “Of course. I’m surprised you can’t understand.” Joey turned away, raising an arm to shield her eyes from the sun.
    When they pulled up to the dock, Strom wet himself in exuberance. Stranahan tied off the skiff, stowed the kayak and went inside to make omelettes. Joey changed into somebody’s yellow sundress and an oversized straw hat.
    Breakfast, which included fresh-squeezed grapefruit juice, was served on the deck under partly cloudy skies. Stranahan waited until they were done before finishing his lecture.
    “Listen to me, please. You can’t kill your husband and get away with it,” he said, “just because everybody thinks you’re dead. That kind of nonsense only happens in the movies.”
    She peered from under the brim of the immense hat, her expression one of broad amusement. “Mick, I don’t want to kill Chaz Perrone. I just want to screw with him until he screws himself. Can’t you see the possibilities?”
    Stranahan was alarmed to find himself intrigued by the idea. He hoped Joey wouldn’t notice.
    She sat forward intently. “Has anyone seriously tried to murder you? Tell the truth.”
    “Yes, as a matter of fact.”
    “And what’d you do about it?”
    “That was different, Joey. I was in law enforcement.”
    Triumphantly she banged her hands flat on the table. “I knew it! I frigging knew it!”
    “Was,” Stranahan said.