Page 16 of Let It Snow

It might be pathetic, but this was as gripped as Dane was going to get until he laid eyes on his girl again. Then what?

He shoved the question aside and grunted as he pulled his hand away and stepped back.

Because he was a good man—a better man than Dane—Vendi put the call on speaker.

“Good news and bad news.”

“Give it.”

“The crew on the life raft found the man overboard, retrieved him—he’s on the raft.”

And?

“The raft was on its way back when their engine took a hard hit and quit—”

“Damn it.” Dane swept a hand through his hair and would have punched a wall of the pilothouse if they weren’t all made of metal and belonging to the US Coast Guard.

“What are the radio ID numbers? I’ll plug them into the Taiyo Td VHF Direction Finder and head there now.”

Vendi punched the numbers into one of the control keyboards and watched the monitor. He said to Dane, “You got your wish. But it’s not good. That life raft isn’t built to sit in waves like this.”

To prove his point a wave hit, splashing their windshield and rattling the boat and everything in it. Cap stumbled. Dane held onto the seat in front of him.

“Then turn up the juice on this thing. We can’t be far.”

“No, we should get there in five or six minutes.”

“But?”

“They’re in relatively open water—northeast of the island before the ferry route takes a turn back west to the Cape.”

“I’ll put on my life vest.”

Vendi nodded.

“How fast does this thing go?”

“Nearly 43 knots—49 miles an hour in civilian speak.”

“Crank it up, Chief.” Dane stood next to him in the pilothouse. Cap stood on Vendi’s other side. Vendi had the wheel and he pushed the throttle.

They all monitored the blip on the screen that signaled the life raft’s position.

“Watch for lights and when we get close we’ll stop and look for the raft and be careful of it. We’re lit up and hopefully the raft will be sending up flares. It’s standard protocol when a boat loses power or communications.”

Dane tried not to think about why they might not be sending up flares.

“When we spot them, I’m going to be at the cutout to pull them on board,” Dane said. No one bothered arguing.

Shana couldn’t stand watching Andy desperately working on the small engine, getting battered by waves while she sat and did nothing. She stood, hunched against the wind and spray, holding onto the side of the raft with a white-knuckled grip, and moved aft toward Andy. She shook with cold and pulled the blanket around her. At least she had one. Andy was exposed and she didn’t know squat about engines, but she could at least grab another blanket from the chest—maybe one of those foil things—and throw it around him.

Glancing back, she confirmed that the other crewman—she hadn’t even gotten his name—was covered while he watched over the padre, trying to keep him dry and warm and somewhat sheltered in the bow area. She proceeded back, aiming for the chest and hoping it held what she needed.

Andy looked up at her.

“What the hell are you doing? Sit down and sit tight.”

“I’m getting one of those foil covers for you before you freeze to death and are no good to any of us.”