“I see.”
Tom opened a can of tuna fish and forked it onto a paper plate. JoLayne waved it off before he could offer.
“I was thinking about your dream,” he said. “Uh-oh.”
“I don’t blame you for being suspicious of me. Only a fool wouldn’t be—”
“That’s not the right word—”
“Look,” he said, “if I were reporting this story instead of participating, that’s the first thing I’d ask: ‘How do you know that guy isn’t after your Lotto money, too?’ And all I can say is, I’m not. The idea never crossed my mind, that’s the truth. Which raises the obvious question: What in the hell’s wrong with me? Why risk my neck for a woman I’ve only known a week ?”
“Because I’m extra-special?” JoLayne, through a mouthful of Goldfish crackers.
“Hey. I’m trying to be serious.”
“Wild,” she said. “You really can’t explain why you’re here. You, who are in the profession of putting words together. An intelligent, successful guy who doesn’t hesitate to drop everything, to walk away from a whole other life.”
“Unbelievable, I know. I do know.” He stared beyond the flames. “It just seemed… necessary.”
JoLayne took a slug of ginger ale. “All right, Mister Krome. Since neither of us can figure out your motives, let’s look at the possibilities.”
“The fire’s dying.”
“Sit your ass down,” JoLayne said. “Let’s start with sex.”
“Sex.”
“Yes. That thing we were doing last night in the motel. Remember? We take off all our clothes and one of us climbs on top—”
“You’re suggesting that I’d risk being massacred by vicious psychopaths just to charm you into the sack?”
“Some men’ll do anything.”
“No offense,” Tom said, “but I’m not quite that starved for affection.”
“Oh really? Before last night, when was the last time you made love to a woman.”
“A week ago.”
“Yipes,” said JoLayne, with a blink.
“The wife of a judge.” Krome got up to toss more driftwood on the embers. “Apparently she kept a scorecard. I could probably get a copy, if you want.”
JoLayne recovered admirably. “So we’ve ruled out money and nooky. What about valor?”
Tom chuckled mirthlessly. “Oh, how I wish.”
“White man’s guilt?”
“That’s possible.”
“Or how about this: You’re just trying to prove something to yourself.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” He lay back, entwining his hands behind his head. In the firelight JoLayne could see he was exhausted.
He said, “Hey, we missed the lottery.”
“Lord, that’s right—it was last night, wasn’t it? I believe we were distracted.” In her handbag she found the Lotto coupons Moffitt had confiscated from Bodean Gazzer’s apartment. She fanned them, like a royal flush, for Tom to see.
“You feeling lucky?”
“Very,” he said.
“Me, too.” She leaned forward and dropped the tickets, one by one, into the flames.
By the time they reached Pearl Key, Bodean Gazzer and Chub were hardly speaking. At issue was the newly purchased marine chart of Florida Bay, which neither of them was able to decipher. Chub blamed Bode, and Bode blamed the mapmakers from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, who (he insisted) had purposely mislabeled the backcountry channels to thwart the flight of survivalists such as the White Clarion Aryans. This time Chub wasn’t buying it.
The inability of either man to make sense of the navigational markers resulted in a succession of high-speed groundings that seriously eroded the aluminum propellers. The ski boat was shaking like a blender long before the militiamen got to the island.
Chub seethed—he had so hoped to impress Amber with his nautical skills. Yet, during their third mishap after departing Jewfish Creek, he’d heard her say: “This is a joke, right?”
At the time he was waist-deep in water, fighting the tide, pushing against the transom with all his strength. Bode Gazzer sloshed next to him in the shallows, working on the starboard side. Amber was in the boat with Shiner.
This is a joke, right?
And Chub had heard Shiner say, “If only.”
The snotty fuck.
Panting in the marl, Chub found his worries turning to the lottery tickets. Both were hidden in the steering console—the stolen one still damp from the previous near disaster; the one in Bode’s wallet relocated when Chub made him go overboard to push.