If there’d been more time…if it’d been safer…

  The police will find him. Someday. Return his body to his sister in Chicago.

  What matters is that everyone who is still alive made it out.

  Everyone gathers together. We all stare in shock at the massive mess before us. Mouths hang open. Hands are lifted to chests. No one says a word.

  I look around, take a quick mental inventory. I see everyone, even Catalina, on the roofing sheet off to the side. Ethan under the tree.

  Hazel leans against the shed, her body supported by the cinder block structure. She holds the gift. Alaina must have given it to her.

  “Are you happy now?” I call.

  Hazel waves the wrapped box in the air. “Open it, Jacob. See how crazy I really am.”

  Ninety-One

  Everyone gathers around me.

  It’s like an impromptu birthday party.

  I want to object, but Hazel’s eyes—watery and bloodshot—gaze at me.

  Hard.

  I can’t say no. She’s too determined. And I went through hell to get the thing. I might as well finish the job and open it. Even if I can’t comprehend what could be inside that would be worth killing for.

  “Okay, fine.” I rip the paper, taking a quick glance at everyone around me. “After everything we’ve been through, I guess we’re all in this together. We might as well do this together too.”

  “Maybe there’s buried treasure on the island,” Sawyer says.

  Hazel shushes him with a wave of her hand.

  The wrapping paper gets caught in a breeze and flutters away. The leather box underneath looks like it came from a department store in 1968. I work my dirty fingernails under the lid and lift.

  Inside is a thick stack of old papers. The paper is yellowed with age, and the type is fading but still readable. I put my hand on top to keep them from blowing away. No doubt a strong wind could turn them to dust.

  I’m baffled. I look into everyone’s faces and see they all look slightly confused. “What is all this, Hazel?”

  “It’s proof.”

  “Proof of what?”

  Hazel straightens, her spine stiffening. She looks six inches taller and ten years younger.

  “It’s proof,” she says, “that this island and all the land on it rightfully belongs to the Native people who first lived here. By Florida statute, their claim to this property supersedes any claim made by the developers, builders, agents, and bankers who have sliced and diced this place over the years. If—when—this documentation gets into the right hands, the land will be returned to the rightful owners. To do with whatever they want.”

  “Holy shit,” Kiara says. “Wow.”

  “That’s incredible, Hazel,” Nina says. “This is such important work you’ve done.”

  Hazel goes on. “The people who first called this island home will finally have back what is rightfully theirs.”

  Several of us turn to Alaina. Her skin has flushed pink, but she doesn’t say a word. My own response surprises me. My heart feels lighter. Like it’s been pumped full of air.

  Home.

  I may never have a home again.

  Or a family.

  And all nine of us will have to move, start over completely.

  But as a result of Hazel’s hard work, an entire group of people—besides Alaina, people we don’t even know—will get their ancestral home back.

  Maybe that’s the real reason we went through hell last night. Maybe that’s what all this trouble was for. To save these papers. To give people back their home…

  Alaina finally speaks. “Maybe…maybe I’ll get to live here again someday.” She sniffs, and I see now that tiny tears are forming in the corners of her eyes. “Maybe I’ll have a place to call home someday.” She wipes her eyes. “For my daughter.” Alaina turns to Hazel. “Thank you so much.”

  Hazel basks in the praise. “Once again, historians save the day.” She lifts her arm in the air like she’s leading us into battle. “We’re really like Superman.”

  “Alaina,” I say, “you should be the one to hold on to these papers. You and Hazel can make sure they get into the right hands.” But when I turn to Alaina with the box of papers…she’s looking away from me.

  She’s looking toward the water….

  She glances back at me and then takes off running.

  “Alaina?”

  She throws words over her shoulder, and they come to us on the wind. “I…see…something…a boat….”

  A boat?

  A rescue boat?

  That would mean…

  I hand the box to Nina and take off across the lawn, following Alaina to the water.

  Ninety-Two

  9:51 a.m.

  I catch up to Alaina at the water’s edge.

  She turns around when she hears me coming. “Jake, look.”

  A police boat approaches the island, its aluminum hull slicing through the gray waves.

  “They’re heading for the dock,” Alaina says. “We’re saved, Jake. We’re going to get out of here.”

  The boat turns parallel to the shore, cruises slowly to the small dock that sits behind what used to be our apartment building. Several people stand at the enclosed helm, but we can’t see them clearly.

  Alaina and I move up the shoreline as the boat gently bumps against the old tires anchored to the dock.

  A familiar uniformed figure emerges from the helm, ties a line from the boat to one of the pilings. Sgt. Fernandez. As Alaina and I step onto the dock, she turns our way and waves in an unusually friendly manner.

  “Mr. Powell.” She takes both of us in, her hands resting on her gun belt. “I need an assessment of the situation here as soon as you can give it. More help is on the way—there’s a fire department craft coming. But I don’t want to bury the lede.” She turns back to the boat. “I know what you’re really curious about….”

  There’s more movement at the enclosed helm. Two figures.

  I allow myself to hope….

  Hope is all I have….

  First Jordan and then Mackenzie step out onto the bow. Sgt. Fernandez helps each of them down to the dock.

  I’m running—pounding—down the dock.

  Fernandez barely gets out of my way.

  “Dad!”

  The three of us come together, forming a tight, unbreakable family unit again.

  Our words are jumbled. They don’t matter.

  Our heads touch. I don’t know how long we hold one another without speaking.

  Finally, words come again.

  “Are you okay?” Jordan asks with tears in her eyes.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine. We’re all okay. But what about you? I saw the dinghy. It was upside down in the water. What happened?”

  We loosen our grip on one another. I take a step back and look them over for real.

  Their clothes are different. Jordan wears a Ketchum Island PD sweatshirt, Mackenzie a long-sleeved Florida State T-shirt that looks like it could hold two people her size. It’s obvious they’ve been in the water. Their hair looks damp and not as perfect as normal.

  “You should have seen it, Dad. Mom was so badass.”

  “What?” I turn to Jordan. “What happened?” But it’s Mackenzie who answers.

  “We got swamped by a wave. Thank God we were close to the mainland. The boat went over. Dad, we had to swim to shore. In a hurricane.”

  “I suspect a lot of details are being left out.”

  “Oh, yeah, totally. She grabbed me, Dad. Mom did. She held me above water, and then we started paddling for the shore. About ten gallons of water went up my nose. But we made it.”

  “I never should have let you out of my sight.”

  Jordan grips my arm. “You did the right thing, Jake. We made it. That’s all that matters.” She nods at Fernandez. “And help is here.”

  Just then a chugging sound reaches across the Intracoastal. We all turn to look. Sure enough, the promised fireboat approaches. Paramedics, more cops.

  I let out a long breath. “It’s over. It’s finally over.”

  “And something else is just beginning,” Jordan says. I look into her eyes, and see she means it. We’re going to start over. We’re getting a new beginning.

  I pull Jordan into my arms and behind her back reach for Mackenzie, dragging her into our embrace.

  We all clutch one another. Again.

  We did it.

  We made it.

  And now I’m never letting go.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks once again to everyone at Berkley for their hard work on my behalf. Special thanks for the publicity and marketing wizardry of Loren Jaggers, Jin Yu, Hilary Tacuri, and Tina Joell.

  Thanks to Jen Carl for working on my newsletter and to Kara Thurmond for keeping my website going.

  Big thanks to my excellent editor, Tracy Bernstein, for her hard work and dedication to making the book better.

  Big thanks also to my wonderful agent, David Hale Smith, for his wisdom and guidance. Thanks to Naomi Eisenbeiss and everyone at Inkwell Management.

  Thanks as always to my family and friends.

  And thanks to Molly McCaffrey for everything else.

  Storm Warning

  David Bell

  READERS GUIDE

  Questions for Discussion

  At the beginning of the novel, the characters have to choose between leaving and staying as the hurricane bears down on them. What factors would you weigh if faced with the prospect of evacuating in response to a potential natural disaster?

  Jake is torn between his desire to return to his family in Ohio and his desire to stay and help his fellow tenants. Have you ever had to choose between your loved ones and other people you knew who might have been in greater need?

  Jake feels loyal to his neighbors because they’ve become like a surrogate family. Where and when have you had the experience of finding community beyond your family?

  Jake and the others underestimate and dismiss Hazel because of her age. Have you seen older people treated this way? If you’ve been on the receiving end, at what age did it start?

  Each of the tenants in the building has a secret or a story that explains why they ended up living on the island. Whose backstory did you find the most surprising? The most sympathetic?

  The buildings on the island and the people who live there have been neglected because a developer is interested in the land. Have you witnessed this tension playing out where you live? If so, in what ways?

  At one point Jake uses an autographed baseball against the killer. What everyday object do you own that you could utilize in self-defense?

  Jake and Jordan have encountered difficult times in their marriage and their careers. Do you think they can put their family back together?

  Jake is an everyman, but he fights to protect his neighbors. What real-life stories have you heard about a “regular guy” summoning bravery in the face of challenging circumstances?

  Photo © Glen Rose Photography

  David Bell is a New York Times bestselling, award-winning author whose work has been translated into multiple foreign languages. He’s currently a professor of English at Western Kentucky University in Bowling Green, Kentucky. He received an MA in creative writing from Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, and a PhD in American literature and creative writing from the University of Cincinnati. His previous novels include The Finalists, Kill All Your Darlings, The Request, Layover, Somebody’s Daughter, and Cemetery Girl.

  Visit David Bell Online

  DavidBellNovels.com

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