Chapter 18: The Open Channel

Lena's POV

I waited until Veda went up on deck to smile at the press.

She left the man in the black blazer outside the saloon door, and she left me the tea.

I poured it into a plant pot.

Then I sat with Junie against my shoulder and tracked his footsteps in the corridor.

He paced.

Back and forth across the floor, restless and heavy.

Finally I stood up, tucked my daughter inside my shirt, and walked out through the other door, the one onto the side deck, where the wind was.

The yacht was making fifteen knots, and the island was a green smudge behind us.

Fifty meters off our stern, the news boat kept pace.

The drone hung above it.

There was a steel ladder bolted to the bulkhead, and I climbed it one-handed with Junie held flat against me.

At the top was the wheelhouse.

A man with a grey crew cut stood at the wheel, and a younger one sat at the chart table.

They both turned.

"Ma'am," the older one said. "You can't be up here."

"I'm Lena Vandeleur. This is my husband's boat."

"I know who you are. Ms. Lorne said you were resting."

"Captain, where is my husband?"

He frowned.

"In his cabin, I was told."

"He's in your wine cellar. There's a bolt on the outside, and she put it there."

Neither man said a word.

The young one looked at the captain.

I could see the captain thinking about it, the way a man thinks when a thing he suspected has just been said aloud.

"Ma'am," he said slowly, "I can't just take your word for that."

"Show me your radio."

I didn't wait for permission.

I'd learned something on that island that I would never have chosen to learn.

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