Chapter 6: Phones Up

I did not run, and I did not shout.

I turned my back to the security man to cover Tilda, and I looked at the woman on the far dock with the phone.

"Are you filming?" I asked her.

She lowered it an inch, startled.

"Yes."

"Keep going. Please."

Then I looked at the fishermen on the overturned boat and the night crew at the rail.

I raised my voice just enough to carry across the water.

"My name is Lena Linscott. I own thirty percent of the company that employs most of you, and I built the shelter your families slept in last night."

Nobody on the dock made a sound.

"My husband is about to have a man take my five-month-old daughter out of my arms. I would like every one of you to remember that you saw it."

The security man stopped.

Behind him, one by one, the other phones came up.

The two fishermen took their hands out of their jackets and stepped down onto the dock.

The older one spoke, low and rough. "We're watching, Mrs. Linscott."

"Thank you."

I turned back to Damon.

He had gone a color I had never seen on him, a dull, grey white.

"Lena, what are you doing?"

"I'm making sure this is how it looks."

"Put the phones down," he said to the dock, in a thin voice. "This is a private family matter."

Nobody moved.

"Tell your man to step back," I said. "Now, Damon, while there's still a version of this where you stayed a husband."

He looked at the phones. He looked at Corinna, whose face had gone completely smooth and still.

Then he lifted two fingers, and the security man stepped back behind him.

I felt the breath go out of my ribs, and I did not let it show.

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