“Boys, I hope this is a fool’s errand,” Mike said. “Confronting Leo Kennedy and Randall Flook about sex trafficking!”
“We’ll find out if they’re involved,” Conor said.
“Good lord,” Mike said. “They’re my friends.”
“Uncle Mike, I understand that. Maybe you shouldn’t have come,” Conor said. “This is going to put you in an awkward position.”
“Well, that’s for sure,” Mike said. “But if they do have anything to do with Kate being missing, you’ll need me with you.”
“Yeah?” Tom asked.
“Yeah. Because I’ll book them and arraign them and remand them all at the same time,” Mike said. “I’m the only one on this boat with the power to do that, right?”
“Uncle Mike, I’m not sure that even you have that power,” Conor said, “but I one hundred percent appreciate the spirit.”
There was heavy boat traffic in lower Narragansett Bay. Many people took vacations the week of July 4, and Rhode Island was a favorite spot for people who loved being on the water. There were superyachts,small craft, tour boats, and theIver Prosperity—a red-hulled oil tanker on its way up the bay to offload its cargo in Providence.
Approaching Maynard-King, Tom drove closer to shore and entered a no-wake zone. He slowed down. Other boaters ignored the rule, continuing to go so fast that their white wakes rocked kayaks and small sailboats, sent waves splashing into docks and beaches. Conor could feel Tom itching to pull them over and cite them for excessive speed but was grateful that his brother ignored them for now, focused on Kate.
Conor lifted the Steiner XP 7x50 binoculars to his eyes and gazed at the boats at the Maynard-King dock. Although he had been told to expect to seeRosebud, it still shocked him to spot it tied up just ahead ofZémire. It proved, if nothing else, that Leo had lied about going fishing off Block Island. There was no way that Leo could have gone out to Block and gotten back here in the time since they had spoken earlier that day.
Now Conor scanned the whole Maynard-King landscape. The large white hospital crested the rocky shoreline. Clusters of tall trees dotted the property, and Conor could see other buildings in clearings between the groves. He spotted the guardhouse, the cemetery, the gazebo, and the small house where Leprince de Beaumont Associates had their offices, where he had knocked on the door in search of Darla Vandeveer.
The storm that had threatened earlier had passed mainly to the north, with no more than a few showers. But a new front was coming through, with the sky darkening in the west. Conor heard some distant rumbles of thunder. The bay had been calm, but whitecaps were kicking up. He swept the glasses over the Maynard-King grounds and saw that people were still strolling around, sitting on benches near the tennis court.
Now he turned his attention back to the dock. At first, he didn’t see any action on the decks of either of the boats, but then he noticed someone climbing out of the cockpit onRosebud. The person walked down the dock to the freshwater connection and grabbed the end of a hose. He hopped back on the boat and began hosing down the deck.Conor knew how fastidious boat owners could be, but ifRosebudhad just left its marina that morning and hadn’t been out on a fishing trip, did it really need cleaning? Conor thought of evidence being flushed into the bay.
“Who’s that?” Tom asked, watching the person holding the hose.
“Can’t tell,” Conor said, adjusting the binoculars’ focus. “Doesn’t look like Leo.”
“And too small to be Randall,” Mike said. “Randy is a portly fellow, to put it mildly.”
“Let’s find out who it is,” Tom said, steering toward the dock. He broughtMeteorbroadside and cut the engine.
Conor jumped onto the dock and secured the bowline, and Tom took care of the stern. Mike was agile for being nearly eighty, and he climbed off without any help. The three Reids walked over toRosebud—sixty feet of gleaming fiberglass and stainless steel, rising to a massive tuna tower, perfect for spotting fish from a distance.
“Looks like a fast boat,” Conor said as they approached.
“She’s got twin Caterpillar diesel engines,” Tom said. “But she still couldn’t beatMeteorin a lobster boat race.”
“She’s not a lobster boat,” Conor said.
“Details,” Tom said.
The person they had seen washing off the deck must have gone below. A moment later, Conor saw someone wearing a yellow slicker and a Red Sox cap emerge from the cabin with a bucket, a scrub brush, and a bottle of Clorox bleach.
“Hey, there,” Tom said, flashing his Coast Guard badge. “Can you step off the vessel, please?”
The person looked up but didn’t move.
“Miranda?” Conor asked, startled.
“Hi,” Miranda Forrest said. She didn’t look surprised to see him, but she glanced down instead of meeting his eyes, and her greeting was subdued.
“Where’s Leo?” Conor asked.
“Oh,” she said. “I don’t know. He got a text and said he had to leave.”
