Blood Work

47

THE FOLLOWING SEA was cutting south at trolling speed across the low swells toward Catalina. Up on the bridge, McCaleb stood braced against the wheel. He had the forward wind curtain down and the chill air coming up off the surface hit him fully, hardening his skin beneath his clothes. Ahead in the mist the island rose like a huge rock cathedral on the horizon. The outbuildings and some of the taller boats of Avalon were coming into view. He saw the circular terra-cotta roof of the casino, the town’s signature structure, clearly now.

He turned to look astern. The mainland was out of sight, discernible only by the haze of smog that hung over it like a sign warning Do Not Come Here! He was happy to be free of it.

He thought about Crimmins for a moment. He had no regrets about the way he had left things in Mexico. There would be no questions about his motives and choices now. But he was protecting more than himself. Graciela and Raymond had spent thirty-six hours with Crimmins. Though he had not physically harmed them, they still needed private time to heal, to put the ordeal behind them. McCaleb couldn’t see how bringing more cops and questions into their lives could help with that. Graciela had agreed.

From the bridge he looked down into the cockpit and secretly watched the two of them. Raymond was in the fighting chair, his small hands grasping the trolling set. Graciela stood next to him, holding the chair for support. If McCaleb could, he would have willed a big black marlin onto the line for the boy. But he wasn’t worried. There would be plenty of time to catch fish.

Graciela seemed to sense his gaze and she looked up at him. They shared a smile of intimacy. McCaleb could feel his heart seize when she smiled at him that way. It made him so happy that it hurt.

The boat trip was a test. Not only for the boat but for the two of them. That was what she had called it. A test to see if they could overcome the thing between them, the painful knowledge of what had happened and what he had done, of why he was here and others were not. Especially Gloria. They would see if they could put that behind them, too, or at least to the side, to be taken out and looked at only when needed.

It was all McCaleb could hope for. It was all he wanted, just the chance. The fact that it was now in his grasp made his faith in her feel requited, fulfilled. For the first time in a long time he was feeling as though there was purpose.

He looked forward again and checked the boat’s course. He could see the bell house up on the hill and next to it the roof of the home where the writer and sportsman Zane Grey had lived. It was a beautiful town and he couldn’t wait to be back and to show it to them.

He stole another glance down into the stern. Graciela’s hair was tied back against the wind and he studied the lovely lines of the nape of her neck. He had been feeling something almost like faith lately and was confused by where it would lead him now. Confused but not concerned. He knew it was of no real matter. His faith was in Graciela Rivers. He had no doubt as he gazed down at her that he was looking at the rock upon which he would make his stand.