by Rachel Lee
Hailey wandered away from the ferry terminal, her head bent over her phone, pulling up a car app. As her finger hovered over the display to accept a ride, a text came through.
She caught her breath when she saw Marten’s name. She tapped the message and read aloud, “‘Changed my mind.’”
“What?” She clenched her teeth from screaming. After all that trouble and...worry, and he changed his mind about the meeting?
She responded, I thought you were here. Where are you now and why playing games? Call me.
Her gaze burned a hole in her phone as she waited for Marten’s response. Someone bumped her elbow and she glanced up.
“Sorry.” A woman held up her hand. “Were you on that ferry to Alcatraz?”
“I was.”
“What happened? I heard someone went overboard.”
“That’s what they told us, but nobody seems to be missing anyone. I guess they’re checking tickets now and the coast guard is still searching the bay.”
The woman hunched her shoulders. “Is that going to be a thing now? Instead of jumping from the bridge, they’re going to jump from the ferry?”
“Jump?” Hailey massaged the back of her neck.
“Nobody just falls off the Alcatraz ferry.” The woman waved at a man approaching and glanced over her shoulder. “Have a nice night.”
Suicide? Who would commit suicide by jumping off the ferry to Alcatraz? Especially Marten.
Hailey shook her head and peered at her phone. She input a row of question marks for the silent Marten.
“Now what?” She crossed her arms and scanned the crowd of tourists streaming along the Embarcadero on their way to and from Fisherman’s Wharf and Pier 39 with all its shops and restaurants.
Food. Marten had insisted on the night tour to Alcatraz, and now her stomach was growling. She’d head down to Fisherman’s Wharf with the rest of the tourists and pick up some seafood from the sidewalk stands.
Cranking her head over her shoulder, she took a last look at the ferry terminal. Had the man who’d gone overboard been wearing a black hat...like Marten’s? Where had the hat gone?
But Marten had never boarded the ferry. He’d never even bought a ticket.
She looked at her phone again. Why wouldn’t he answer her? He’d better be prepared for questions when they got together, because she had a ton.
She shoved the phone in her pocket and joined the hordes on the sidewalk. She wove her way through the tourists as they stopped to watch the performers along the street.
When she reached the seafood stands on the sidewalk, she jostled for position, elbowing with the best of them. She leaned forward and ordered some clam chowder in a sourdough bread bowl.
Clutching her plate with the bowl of steaming chowder perched on top of it, she wormed her way back to the sidewalk and walked toward a set of wooden steps that led down to the part of the wharf with the maritime museum and the submarine, both closed at this time of night and affording a little calm from the chaos on the sidewalk above. She’d try giving Marten a call.
When she was about halfway down the steps, someone came up behind her and grabbed her arm. Her heart slammed against her chest, and her dinner began tipping to the side.
The man steadied her plate and whispered in her ear, “Act naturally. Someone’s following you—the same person who murdered Marten de Becker.”
Copyright © 2018 by Carol Ericson
ISBN-13: 9781488045585
Missing in Conard County
Copyright © 2018 by Susan Civil Brown
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