Barracuda Page 4

  Country music itself wasn’t obnoxious to Webb. But the stuff that celebrated redneck drinking didn’t do a lot for him. These guys—a half dozen, one of them wearing a shirt that showed the Confederate flag—were cracking open beers to match the music.

  Webb felt his gut tighten. Sure, the boat was big enough. But that wouldn’t be big enough for him. He could imagine what it would be like out in the Atlantic, no land in sight, trapped by party music and drunk party jokes.

  “England?” Webb said.

  The man stopped. They were still twenty paces from the boat and the party guys who were ready to combine beer and big-game fishing.

  “Jonathan Greene told us yesterday that we could use any of the resort equipment,” Webb said.

  “Told me too,” England said. “That’s why we’re sending you in the best boat we have.”

  “I’m thinking,” Webb said, “I’d prefer something else.”

  Webb pointed down the dock, where boats of various sizes bobbed in the water. To one that was bright yellow, the tiniest craft of all of them.

  A one-person kayak.

  NINE

  “Kayak,” England said. There was disbelief in his voice. “You’re pointing at a kayak.”

  “I watched some videos on YouTube,” Webb said. “About fishing the shallow waters of the Keys. Doesn’t look like it could get me into trouble. The water isn’t deep enough to hold sharks. All I need is a fishing rod with a lure, and the kayak.”

  Webb gave England the most charming grin he could. “And maybe the breakfast and lunch you packed.”

  England frowned. “That wasn’t the plan. I was supposed to take you and your grandfather out into the Gulf Stream.” He pointed at the huge boat. “How could a kid like you not want to go out in something like that? The horsepower is incredible. See all those fishing poles? We bait them for you with bigger fish than you’d catch in the shallows. All you do is wait for a strike and then you get to fight a game fish. How cool is that?”

  Not very, Webb wanted to say. Have a guide do all the work? Sit around and listen to bad jokes told by other guys who wanted the guide to do all the work? Putting up with a big noisy engine instead of calm, quiet waters?

  “Sounds okay,” Webb said. “But I’d prefer the kayak. And I read in the brochure that all the resort watercraft have GPS locators to make sure nobody gets lost.”

  “Won’t be possible,” England said. “I’m sure your grandfather wanted to share a special day on the water with you.”

  David broke in. “Grandfather is right here. Grandfather doesn’t need a charter. Grandfather is happy to go back to the cottage and read a book for most of the day. Grandfather thinks that if Grandson wants an adventure in a kayak, then Grandson should get that adventure. And Grandfather thinks that if this resort won’t arrange it, Grandfather will go down the road to another resort and rent a kayak.”

  David paused and smiled at England. But it was a cold smile, showing that David didn’t tolerate people messing with him. “Was Grandfather clear?”

  England grunted. “You don’t know what you’re missing. The Gulf Stream is amazing.”

  “So Grandfather wasn’t clear?” David asked.

  One of the group of beer drinkers shouted at England. “Hey, aren’t we running behind? For the price we paid, this boat should be headed out already.”

  Before England could reply, a voice from behind them answered.

  “We’ll head out now!”

  Webb glanced over and saw another man, younger than England but with the same deep tan and wrinkles that would match in a few years. This man, too, had on a hat with the resort logo. He had a huge mermaid tattoo on his right forearm, with bright blues and greens and purples that glowed like neon.

  The man offered England a high five. “Sorry for the delay. But I’m good to take them. You help the kid with his kayak.”

  “No!” England said sharply. “Robbie, that charter was on the books for me today.”

  “So you’ll be the one to let Jonathan Greene know you walked away from his special guests? There’s a man you don’t want angry at you, even when he’s dying.”

  “I can get the kid ready in his kayak in about two minutes,” England said. “Then I’ll take the charter out.”

  “Hey,” another one of the beer drinkers yelled. “We’re wasting daylight!”

  “Two minutes too long,” Robbie said. “Don’t worry, England, I have you covered.”

  “But—”

  “Just help the kid with his kayak. Make sure you put a wire-tipped leader on his line.”

  With that, Robbie bounced forward and herded all the beer drinkers on board. England stared, arms crossed, with obvious frustration as Robbie jumped onto the boat and ran through the checklist. Within minutes he had thrown the ropes clear and backed the large boat into the center of the marina, and then, with a cheery wave, he throttled the boat forward and out to the open waters.

  “Sorry about that,” Webb said. “I didn’t want to cause any trouble.”

  England grunted.

  Webb said, “It would be great if you just gave me some basic instructions and let me go out myself.”

  Last thing Webb wanted was to be stuck with England for a morning.

  “I can’t just give you a kayak and let you paddle around,” England said.

  “Yes,” David said. “You can. With the GPS locator, he’ll be fine.”

  Webb’s grandfather suddenly seemed twenty years younger. And taller. Webb realized that he’d never seen his grandfather like this. Quietly angry.

  “Not only can you let him jump in a kayak,” David continued, “you will.”

  England seemed like he was about to disagree, but he must have seen the steel in David’s posture.

  “Fine then,” England said. “I take no responsibility. The kid doesn’t make it back, it’s on your shoulders.”

  TEN

  Half an hour later, Webb paddled to the shoreline nearest to their cottage, where his grandfather stood waiting.

  Webb was wearing a life jacket, and he felt comfortable. He loved the kayak.

  The seat cushion was set in front of a storage box, and he’d learned he could easily turn and reach it. There was spare rod in a rod holder attached to the storage box, and the storage box itself held flashy lures along with other gear, Webb’s lunch and a small first-aid kit. The anchor was a sandbag attached to a thin nylon rope—England had explained that a sandbag did not damage coral. Rising from the storage box was a red caution flag to make him visible out on the water.

  Seated with his feet in adjustable footrests, Webb had been comfortable as he paddled. There was a retainer bracket on the side of the kayak for him to clamp the paddle to as he fished, and there was a rod holder directly in front of him holding the rod that England had rigged, waiting for Webb to make his first casts.

  His grandfather gave a smile of satisfaction as Webb floated almost to the shore. David was holding a small black pouch with a waterproof zip seal.

  “Looks like you figured out a few things,” David said.

  Webb had been going back and forth just off the shore, paddling and steering the kayak, while David went to the cottage to get something. The black pouch, Webb guessed.

  “Except for why you don’t seem too worried about sending me out for a fishing trip by myself,” Webb said.

  “You worried?” David asked.

  “No.”

  “Then I’m not either.” David sat on the soft sand, his sandals almost at the edge of the water, and it put them at eye level. Webb was only a few feet offshore, bobbing in the gentle waves. He was grateful he didn’t have to crane his head upward to talk to his grandfather.

  David continued, “Here’s what I think. Parents sometimes baby their kids too much. They hover, making sure that the kid doesn’t make any mistakes. How does that do the kid any good? Making mistakes is how you learn. And learning from your mistakes is how you get confidence. I always figured that unless a sit
uation would put my child’s life in danger, I was going to allow them as much freedom as possible. This is not a dangerous situation.”

  David swept his arms to indicate the flat waters. “The deepest point here is what, five feet?”

  Webb nodded.

  “If you had to, could you swim across these waters to the neighboring island?”

  It was maybe a half mile across. Webb was a good swimmer.

  Webb nodded again.

  “The kayak has a GPS locator. You have a cell phone in a plastic bag, and you’re wearing a life jacket. I think it would be disrespectful to treat you like you don’t have enough common sense and life skills to be out on those waters by yourself. You’re not a little boy anymore, so I’m not going to treat you like one.”

  “Thanks,” Webb said.

  “Respect is a two-way street,” David said. “I’m a little disappointed you thought you needed to sneak out of the cottage last night without telling me.”

  Webb said, “I should have. I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t expect David’s grin.

  “I’m proud of you for not making an excuse,” David said. “A man does something wrong, he should own up to it. Not try to put the blame elsewhere.”

  A man. Webb liked hearing that.

  “I trust you had a good reason for going out?” David asked.

  “That girl,” Webb said. “Kristie. She knocked on my window and wanted to go for a walk. So we did.”

  “Oy!” David said. “Moonlight walk. Nice. First kiss?”

  “Kiss?” Webb shook his head. “Nothing like that. She’s too perfect to ruin things by trying a kiss.”

  “Aah,” David said. He gave a huge grin. “Remember I reserved the right to talk like a grandfather? Need to use it now. Remember to get to know someone for who they are, not how they look. I’m old enough to know it’s the inside that matters a lot more than the outside. Still, when your heart goes pitter-patter, it’s a wonderful thing.”

  “And maybe we don’t need to talk about it,” Webb said. “Okay?”

  David smiled. “Okay.” Then his expression turned serious. “Something else we don’t have to talk about, but I’ll be here for you if you need to bounce things off me.”

  David rose and waded two steps into the water and handed Webb the black pouch.

  “I’ve been wondering when the best time might be to give this to you,” David said. “And obviously, I’ve decided on this morning. I wanted you to be alone when you watched it.”

  Webb unzipped the pouch and looked inside to see an iPod.

  “Um, thanks,” Webb said. It seemed the polite thing to say. Webb already had a device, and this iPod wasn’t the latest.

  “This technology always amazes me,” David said. “I remember when you needed huge reel-to-reel tapes and a projector the size of a sewing machine if you wanted to watch home movies.”

  “Was this before or after the airplane was invented?” Webb asked.

  “Ha-ha,” David said. Then the serious look returned to his face. “You don’t talk much about your stepfather,” he said.

  “Not much to say,” Webb said. “And whatever there is, it’s kind of like the Kristie thing. I want to keep it to myself.”

  “Fair enough,” David said. “So I’ll say what I need to say, and you don’t have to answer. My sense is that things could be better at home for you than they are. I’m here for you if you want to talk. And in the meantime, there’s something on the iPod for you to watch. Something your father gave to me a few months before he died. He told me to only let you see it if I felt you needed to see it. He didn’t want to get in the way of you and a relationship with a new father.”

  “This is from my dad? A video?”

  “Your dad,” David said. “When you watch it, you’ll understand. And remember, I’m here if you want to discuss it.”

  Webb stared into the pouch.

  His dad.

  Webb’s grandfather stepped out of the water.

  “As you go around the key, stay within a couple hundred yards of shore, okay?” David said. “How about three hours? Be back by then. If you’re not, I’ll start calling your cell, and we’ll search for you by GPS.”

  “Yeah,” Webb said. But his mind was on the iPod in the small pouch.

  His dad.

  Webb paddled away from shore with a sensation like the iPod was a bomb set on a timer.

  ELEVEN

  The water was less than waist deep, and so clear that he could see the bone-white sandy bottom. The humid breeze seemed to soak into Webb’s skin and muscles. He let out a deep sigh, thinking about the iPod.

  His dad?

  Seven years had passed since he’d said goodbye to his dad for the final time. Lots of nights Webb would dream that he was in the backyard, playing catch with his dad. It was such a plain, ordinary thing to be doing, and that’s why he would wake up sad. Something so plain and ordinary wasn’t ever going to be part of his life again. When he saw other kids with their dads, even doing things as ordinary as waiting in line for a burger or the dad reaching across the table to dip a fry into the kid’s ketchup, Webb wanted to go over and tell the kid how lucky he was.

  Lately Webb hadn’t been having those kinds of dreams.

  Webb decided to take his mind off the iPod. He grabbed the rod and threw the lure out as far as he could. It felt great, letting the leverage of the rod work like a giant arm to hurl the few ounces of metal a hundred yards away.

  England had called it a topwater plug. It had a swivel in the center, and as Webb reeled it back to the kayak, the lure splashed from side to side just like an injured baitfish.

  Webb didn’t care whether he caught anything. It was just amazing to be sitting on clear water in the Florida Keys, enjoying the sensations of sun and breeze and the rhythm of reeling in the lure. He wanted the enjoyment of the moment to keep him from thinking about his dad.

  Webb cast and reeled a few times, letting the kayak drift in the water.

  Without warning, a dark blotch the size of a kite showed up on the bone-white sand. It scooted forward, leaving a cloud of white particles expanding in the the water.

  Stingray, Webb thought. Very cool.

  He tossed out the lure again. But his thoughts kept returning to the iPod.

  For years, Webb had loved those dreams of his dad. It was almost like his dad was finding a way to visit him. Lately, though, Webb had been thinking about his dad not with sadness but anger. Why had his dad left him so that a stepfather would enter Webb’s life?

  A video to him from his dad. He should have been excited, but he wasn’t. There were days he felt like his dad had abandoned him. It was not a rational feeling. His dad obviously would not have wanted to die. But the feeling was there, and it made him resent his dad. He didn’t know if he wanted his dad to talk to him from the dead. Webb had been so angry lately that he didn’t want to play guitar. Rejecting guitar was like rejecting his dad.

  Webb knew his grandfather had been hinting for Webb to tell him what was happening at home.

  Not a chance.

  Webb never wanted to push his stepfather past the point of irritation to the point of anger. Webb was afraid of his stepfather. He was afraid of what his stepfather might do if Webb told anyone what it was like at home. The problem was, Webb couldn’t prove anything to anyone about his stepfather’s cruelty. His stepfather had been in the military and knew all the tricks.

  Webb had even set up a spy cam in his bedroom once, hoping it would capture something he could show to an outside authority—how his stepfather managed to make innocent comments seem like threats. Part of the trouble was how someone else might hear the words. Yes, innocent on the surface. But deep down, terrifying for someone who had to live in the house with his stepfather. And it wasn’t just about protecting Webb; Webb needed to protect his mother.

  The spy cam had not worked.

  Webb’s stepfather had found the spy cam and removed it without a word. Webb had come into his
bedroom and it was gone. That had been more scary than if his stepfather had confronted him. Instead, Webb had waited for months for punishment, dreading every night alone in bed, waiting for the door to open. It probably served him right for setting something in his bedroom to spy on…

  Huh.

  Webb snapped out of those thoughts and stopped reeling in the lure.

  Huh.

  He closed his eyes, trying to picture the night table beside Jonathan Greene’s bed.

  Huh.

  After using a remote control for the mattress, Greene had set the remote down on the bedside table. Beside that digital picture frame.

  In researching spy cams to buy one for himself, Webb had learned that some recorders were hidden in digital picture frames. Called nanny cams. For parents who wanted to make sure that babysitters were not doing anything strange.

  Webb rested his rod in the holder in front of him, with the lure now settled at the bottom of the water a long way out.

  He half turned so he could reach the storage box behind him. His iPhone was in a waterproof case. He pulled it out and winced as bright sun reflected off the screen into his eyes.

  Webb’s grandfather had set Webb up with a roaming data package. Webb went to the device’s browser and searched the Amazon site for “nanny cam.”

  There it was. He felt a sudden lurch of adrenaline when he saw the listing. He expanded the view. Nanny Cam—Video Recorder Hidden In Digital Photo Frame. With Self Playback feature.

  He read more and grew certain that’s what he’d seen at Greene’s bedside. And now that he thought about it, a digital frame seemed out of place when Greene didn’t appear to have any other technology in the house. So maybe there was truth in the letters. Maybe they weren’t just the ramblings of a man in his final days of life. Someone was spying on Greene.

  Webb decided that kayaking for the day was over. This was important enough to go back to tell his grandfather.

  Webb grabbed the rod. He needed to reel in the line so he could paddle back to the resort cottage.

  Bam.

  It was like something had grabbed the end of the lure to try to yank the rod out of Webb’s fingers, something with the force of a slamming door.