* * *
The Hermit grunted a welcome as they climbed aboard the Nameless. Shadow jumped on Owen, barking. Andrea and Aaron went off to the bow by themselves while Martina brought the Hermit up to date and Owen tried to calm his dog.
When Martina finished, the Hermit cocked a hairy eyeball at Owen. “So what now? Ready to go home?”
Owen nodded. If his boat was still home. But he’d worry about that later. “Tomorrow morning, if that’s okay with you. I have a lot of cleaning up to do, and I don’t want to sleep there till it’s done.”
“I’ll help,” Martina offered.
Um. He could throw away the cheap rug, and the underlying teak should be okay. But the police had left a mess, and—well, it would be pretty bad at first. “It’s kinda . . .”
She punched him lightly. “I know what happened to Leon. It’s okay, I’ll help.” She smiled at him. “I can deal with a mess. And I’m not afraid of ghosts, Owen.”
He swallowed, remembering what it had been like the last time he’d entered the Fusty Navel. “Sometimes I am,” he said.
“Good for you,” the Hermit agreed. “Ghosts can be a pain in the ass. I’ll come too.” He gave Martina a popeyed glare when she looked surprised. “What? The place needs a cleaning, then if possible a party, and then it’ll be a home again. I’m good for all of the above.” He turned and stomped away. “I’m off for bed,” he said over his shoulder. “See you in the morning.” He opened the door and went inside, then stuck his head back out. “Not too damn early, though.” He closed the door.
Martina giggled and dug her face into Owen’s shoulder, hugging him with one arm. “Crazy old man,” she said. “I’m glad I met him.”
He held her close, but didn’t join in her laughter. Carl was still out there somewhere. Owen knew Gordon was right, and he should stay out of the police’s way for a while. But he still felt he should be helping them search.
Sometime after midnight, a thought came to him in the darkness. What about the kidnapped girl? Danny had to have been responsible for her too, if her dress had been found with Junior. Was she still alive? What was happening to her? And what did she have to do with the rest of it?
Maybe Carl knew by now. Wherever he was.
Owen’s eyes were dry and burning, full of salt and sand. But they stayed open.
***
Shiver on the Sky Page 57