“That’s not a bad idea, if you’re up for it,” Spencer agreed.

  Nat carried the spotlight and followed Rob down the ladder. Finn whined as the two left them behind on the bridge.

  “It’s all right, boy. We’re going to find Mama soon.” Spencer gave the dog a few rubs on top of his head.

  He wondered if Finn could sense that they were getting closer to finding Kate or if the dog was just nervous for obvious reasons, like the deteriorating conditions outside the pilothouse. They were back into the heavy, putrid smoke, and from the looks of things, it wasn’t going away anytime soon. Spencer closed the doors leading out to the weather deck, but it was an exercise in futility due to the broken window; to improve visibility, when they first began their run upriver, he’d removed the temporary cover Rob and Nat had come up with to keep the rain out.

  Spencer was grateful they were out of sight of the bridge, but at what cost to their physical health? The greasy coating of ash and soot he could feel on his face and arms was a constant reminder of the pollution they were all inhaling. He felt bad for the people who were stuck here, but he was looking forward to leaving this place behind and getting back out on the open ocean, where the air didn’t leave a foul taste in his mouth.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Spencer did his best to ignore the burning in his nose and throat, readjusted his face covering, and squared up on the helm station. Anchoring a boat this size was really no different than anchoring the Hunter, although the stakes were quite a bit higher. The heavy Danforth-style anchor should have no problem finding purchase in the soft river bottom, but that didn’t mean Spencer would be at peace leaving the trawler with Nat, Maya, and Finn behind.

  Buoy twenty-one was close now, and Spencer slowed the trawler down even more. They were in Hoggs Cove, and although the visibility was poor, every now and then, he could make out the shoreline and the numerous finger piers that jutted out into the river. Some of the docks still had homes at the other ends of them, but most did not. He’d been straining to see Tom and Debbie’s since emerging from this side of the bridge, but so far, he hadn’t been able to find their pier. He wasn’t overly concerned yet, though; the house sat back from the water a little ways and conditions were far from ideal.

  “When do you want me to release the brake and throw the stopper? Over.” Rob’s voice came through, but the transmission was heavy with static.

  Spencer spun the wheel to port a few degrees and then backed down on the throttle until the Black Bird sat at idle, just holding her ground against the swift-moving tide. “Go ahead, drop now. And remember to use the foot pedal to keep it moving until I say. Over.”

  “Copy that. Over.” Rob motioned for Nat to stand back.

  Spencer watched from the pilothouse while Rob released the windlass brake tension with the breaker bar and kicked the chain stopper loose. Spencer threw the boat into neutral and let the current push them back as the shots of chain paid out into the water.

  “Stay on it. Over.” Spencer encouraged Rob to stay on the pedal. With the channel here topping out at a little under nine feet, the anchor hit bottom in a matter of seconds, leaving the weight of the drifting trawler to unravel the chain they needed to let out. Spencer gave it about thirty seconds, keeping an eye on a fixed point of land to gauge how far they were moving backward.

  “Looking good. Stand by. Over.” Spencer knew the couple was anxious to get out of the smoke and ash, but he needed to make sure the anchor had set.

  He threw the trawler into gear and inched forward a few yards, then returned to neutral and let the boat drift backward with the tide. Spencer locked in on one of the docks he could see and used the landmark to make sure they weren’t drifting freely. The anchor was holding, and they were good to go. Spencer would show Rob and Nat how to secure it all with the bridle when he went down to deal with the skiff, provided the trawler had one rigged up. But for all intents and purposes, they were now at anchor and immobile—an unsettling feeling, to say the least.

  “Okay, come on back. We’re good to go for now. Over.” Spencer stepped out onto the weather deck to take a better look around. He’d been so focused on keeping them in the dead center of the channel that he’d only dared to steal a few glances away from the instruments and helm. He wanted to shut the engine down, but they still needed to run the single-point davit to get the skiff in the water. The steady chug of the idling diesel echoed off the relatively still waters, and Spencer was sure the noise would attract attention. But that was all the more reason to get busy splashing the skiff.

  Spencer intercepted Rob on his way up the ladder.

  “The chain coming out of the forward hold was pretty loud. Nat went to check on Maya to make sure she didn’t wake up,” Rob said, explaining his wife’s absence.

  “That’s fine. It’s time to drop the skiff in anyway.” Spencer felt guilty for asking Rob to go back outside with him after he’d just come in, but they’d have to endure worse than this going ashore. And as far as Spencer was concerned, the clock was ticking on the amount of time they had to pull this off without inviting trouble—if they hadn’t already, thanks to being spotted by the three on the bridge.

  Rob and Spencer made their way to the foredeck and got to work removing the tie-downs from the skiff. Spencer left Rob to undo the last two straps while he fired up the boat davit and familiarized himself with the controls again.

  “All clear.” Rob moved to the port rail, manning two lines, one attached to the skiff’s stern and the other attached to the bow. The high-pitched whine of the hydraulics sang out against the weight of the Hewes as the boat began to rise.

  Nat emerged from the shadows. “She’s still out. If she can sleep through that, she can sleep through anything.”

  “I told you, she was exhausted. Here, can you take the stern?” Rob tossed Nat one of the lines and moved forward to better control the skiff’s bow in the air. Spencer found the davit controls fairly intuitive, and the lack of swell rocking the trawler from side to side made the process go much smoother than when they’d brought the Hewes aboard. He barely needed any assistance from Rob or Nat on the lines and ended up asking Nat to climb aboard and throw out the bumpers as he lowered the skiff past the trawler’s rail.

  After the skiff splashed down, Rob jumped in as well, and as soon as there was slack in the davit cable, he untethered the Hewes and threw Spencer the lines. Spencer stopped for a moment and switched the red light on his headlamp over to white, then looked at the water. The stench of oil was heavy, and now, with the use of his light, he could see why. The rainbow of colors that curled around the skiff’s hull gave him his answer as well as a sick feeling. The water here was disgusting and looked thick enough to scoop with a fork. Spencer wondered if the whole river looked like this or if they were just unlucky enough to anchor in a particularly polluted section.

  “What?” Nat paused as she transitioned back over to the trawler and looked down. His expression had given him away.

  Spencer flashed his light down at the water for a few seconds and let her and Rob see for themselves.

  “Oh, wow,” Nat gasped.

  “Man. Maybe there’s a sunken boat nearby leaking oil?” But Rob was being optimistic, and Spencer knew it. The water was contaminated here, just like it was in Marathon—or worse than contaminated, by the looks of it. Spencer switched his headlamp back to red and made his way to the bow, where, after a short search, he located the anchor bridle and attached it to the chain, taking the tension off the windlass.

  Rob and Nat watched as Spencer made some final adjustments to the chain with the foot pedals and threw the stopper back into place. His primary goal was to attach the bridle, but he also wanted to make sure that Rob had done everything correctly. If something went wrong and the trawler broke loose, Nat would be on her own, and Spencer didn’t think that would turn out very well for any of them.

  Spencer switched his headlamp off completely and invited Rob and Nat to follow him back up to the bridge. The three of them made their way to the mess deck and up the ladder in silence, knowing full well what came next. Spencer’s stomach was in knots. The miles traveled, the people fought, and the challenges overcome had led him to this point. It was time to find out what had become of Kate and her parents. But not before going over things on board to make sure Nat was as well prepared as she could be when it came to her ability to defend the boat from a possible attack while he and Rob were gone.

  Spencer was the first one in the pilothouse, and he greeted Finn with a scratch to his head. The dog was excited to see the others return after Spencer had ordered him to stay put while they put the Hewes in the water.

  “Cr-r-ruck.” Ciro danced around his perch, looking like he wanted to fly away but somehow understood the conditions outside were deadly.

  Spencer laid out the weapons they were leaving behind for Nat, along with several spare magazines, while the couple had a quiet but intense conversation. Nat was visibly concerned about staying behind alone, and who could blame her? Spencer left the couple to themselves and used the time to confirm their current location using the heavily distorted image on the chartplotting monitor.

  Tom and Debbie’s house was located in the northeast corner of the cove. Normally, Spencer would have been able to see their place from where they were anchored, but not tonight. He couldn’t locate the finger pier or Tom’s twenty-four-foot Grady White center console in the heavy smoke but knew where it should be. He committed the compass reading to memory and shut everything down, interrupting Rob and Nat’s conversation. An eerie silence fell over the pilothouse, and the Black Bird went dark and quiet for the first time since they’d commandeered the seventy-four-foot vessel. They all stood, listening to the silence. The lack of vibrations running through the hull and the deck under Spencer’s feet seemed foreign and made him feel even more vulnerable, if that was possible. A distant pop sounded from somewhere out in the darkness, and he wasn’t sure if it was a gunshot or something under pressure being pushed to its limit by the fires.

  “We should probably leave everything off. I’m afraid even the red lights might attract attention,” Spencer stated.

  Nat nodded and bit her lip as she peered out over the water off the starboard side.

  “You sure you want to come with me? You don’t have to do this.” Spencer gave Rob one final chance to stay with his family.

  “No. You’re gonna need my help, and the sooner we find Kate, the sooner we can get out of here.” Rob looked toward shore and put his arm around Nat’s shoulders.

  “All right.” Spencer turned his attention to Nat. “You’ll have the radio. If you need us, we can be back here in a matter of minutes. It’s hard to tell with all the smoke, but their house is just over there.” Spencer pointed, then followed it up with a finger on the paper chart, indicating the approximate location of Tom and Debbie’s.

  Nat set her two-way on the console. “And if the radio doesn’t work, I’ll use the flares? There’s a lot of static.”

  “Only as a last resort.” Spencer raised his eyebrows. “We won’t be the only ones responding if you send a flare up. I can almost guarantee you that.”

  The three of them stood in silence, their gazes locked. No words were exchanged. Now was the time for action.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Rob gave Nat a kiss and whispered something into her ear as he held her close for a few seconds. “I’ll check on Maya on our way out.”

  Nat was afraid the sudden quiet might cause Maya to wake up. Spencer threw a couple of fresh bottles of water into his backpack and gave the contents one more quick glance, making sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. Lastly, he removed his logbook from the bag and stowed it in one of the console drawers.

  “I’ll see you down at the boat.” He put his hand on Rob’s shoulder and slipped by the couple, stopping near Finn on the couch. “And you be a good boy while I’m gone and listen to Nat.”

  Spencer bent down and pressed his forehead against Finn’s, rubbing the dog’s neck with his free hand. He’d been in such a hurry to reach this point in his quest to find Kate, but now that the moment had arrived, he was more apprehensive than ever.

  Finn sat up, staring blankly at Spencer as he stood up and moved to the ladder.

  “I’ll be right back. Be a good boy.” Spencer skipped the first step and got to the bottom of the ladder as quickly as he could. He’d procrastinated to some extent in his preparation to go ashore; as long as he was on his way to Kate, there was hope she might be okay. But in just a few minutes, he’d know for sure, and he’d have to face reality, whatever it might be.

  Spencer stood against the rail, staring down at the Hewes as it bobbed alongside the Black Bird. Another distant explosion shifted his attention to the hazy shoreline, which remained a mystery cloaked in the fog of chaos and destruction. No matter what he found when they went ashore, his life was about to change forever—again. That was the only thing he could truly count on tonight.

  Spencer checked his watch. The fear and anxiety eating a hole in his gut quickly turned to impatience. He tried to put himself in Rob’s shoes and imagine what it was like to leave his wife and child behind to follow a kid he’d only met a few days ago into what looked like a war zone.

  “Spencer.” Rob appeared from the mess deck door, the shotgun slung over his shoulder and the bandolier loaded with 12-gauge shells. The two of them made a pair, for sure, like a duo straight out of a bad movie Spencer would have missed without a second thought. But this wasn’t a movie; this was reality, and the opening scene would set the tone for some time to come.

  “You ready?” Spencer answered.

  “Yeah, sorry about that. I had to peek in on Maya for Nat… and myself.” Rob’s gaze dropped to the skiff.

  His tone had a sense of finality that hinted at the possibility of no return from their foray onto land. Spencer shook it off and did his best to steer the mood in a different direction.

  “So nothing new, really. I’ll drive and you sit forward and keep your eye out for anything in the water?” Spencer jumped down into the skiff and unclipped his AR-15 from his harness so he’d have more maneuverability while operating the tiller.

  “Sounds good.” Rob followed him, his large frame rocking the Hewes dramatically as he clambered aboard.

  Despite the low stern line in relation to the water, Spencer wasn’t concerned about Rob’s awkward boarding. He was too busy wondering how the polluted, soup-like water would affect the antique Johnson outboard’s cooling capabilities. The water was worse than he’d thought from his original observation when dropping the skiff overboard, and that was saying something. From the looks of it, the slick rainbow of colors flowing past the trawler was just the beginning. The usual innocent uprising of agitated water that erupted from the outboard’s propeller was marred by a display of viscous fluid that threatened to cling to the white hull. It was evident now that the pollution ran much deeper than the colors painting the surface.

  Spencer’s immediate concern was the possibility of the engine overheating due to a lack of proper cooling. The thickened water wouldn’t flow through the outboard like it should normally, but he wasn’t about to call off the effort. In one of the most selfish acts Spencer might have ever committed, he leaned over and untied the stern line, shoving them out and away from the trawler with his foot. They must have been in a bad spot of water; the entire river couldn’t possibly be this bad.

  Spencer kept his eyes trained on the troubled shoreline, but his ears remained alert for any change in the old Johnson outboard’s tune. There was no way the engine was cooling properly in this slop, and he expected problems any second now. He glanced back at the thin stream of discharge from the engine and couldn’t help but notice the intermittent changes in the consistency as the cooling system expelled chunks of matter that had no business flowing through the cooling system.

  It was a miracle the fiberglass hull wasn’t being eaten away from under them in the petrol-laden water. And although that might have been a bit of an exaggeration, his eroding confidence about leaving the trawler on what might amount to a one-way trip wasn’t.

  “Spencer.” Rob flashed his headlamp and exposed something Spencer had never seen in the water before.

  He swung the tiller to port, and the Hewes complied with a labored groan from the engine and a heavy lean to starboard. Spencer could barely believe his eyes as they swung around the tail end of a small aircraft. The plane had clearly been attempting to land in the airport across the river but had fallen short. Spencer could only surmise it had lost power when the bombs detonated.

  The back end of the small aircraft bobbed slightly with the outgoing current, and Spencer committed its location to memory as best he could. The plane was a hazard to navigation and just the sort of thing that could ruin one of their trips back and forth from land to the Black Bird.

  “Deeper here than I thought.” Rob stared wide-eyed at the sunken aircraft until it passed beyond the reach of their dim red headlamps.

  He was wrong, of course. The plane had just settled into the bottom, and although every gauge Spencer had on the Hewes was fried, he knew the water here was deceptively shallow. Not a problem in the skiff, but unpassable in the trawler; this was the reason they’d strictly adhered to the very center of the channel. On the bright side, the water was clearing, and soon after they passed the downed plane, the froth of multicolored bubbles and churned wash off the skiff’s transom looked more familiar. The cleaner water was reassuring, but Spencer’s optimism soon faded as the disaster-plagued shoreline came into view.

  Rob was silent on the bow, but there were no words that could adequately describe what was slowly taking shape as the smoke gave way.

  “Dear God.” Rob glanced back at Spencer before turning away, his eyes red from smoke or maybe emotion. Both were understandable, given what they were seeing.