Chapter 9: The Last Crossing

Knox's POV

The last boat of the night left the island dock at 8:30, and I never leave late.

I have a rule about waiting, which is that I don't.

That night I waited four minutes, for an old man running down the dock with a casserole dish.

It was the second time that month.

He came up the gangway, out of breath, and said, "Thank you, Captain."

"Sit down, sir," I said.

Vin was standing at the stern door of the cabin with her life vest on.

She had not sat since we left the house.

She held the doorframe with both hands, and her laminated card was tucked into the vest strap where she could see it.

"You waited," she said.

"Four minutes."

"I wrote it down," she said. "Eight thirty-four."

"It was for the old man."

"It's late," Vin said, and smiled slightly with the corner of her mouth.

Then the wind hit the boat, hard, from the north, and the smile left.

I went up into the wheelhouse.

I have run that crossing nine thousand times.

The squall line came across the harbor fast, and in four minutes I could not see the lights of the city.

First I sounded the horn, three long blasts, because in a squall nobody can see anybody else's boat.

Then I called down to the deck and told everyone to come into the cabin.

Then I looked through the back window and saw that Vin had not moved.

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