Ghost Dock
Maisie
My voice shook as I said into my cell phone, "It's gone."
On the other end of the line, Tessa paused before saying, "You mean he's gone."
"No. It's gone – the whole place – the boathouse, the balcony, that door I was pounding on last night. It's all gone . "
Sounding just as confused as I felt, Tessa asked, "Gone how?"
I swallowed hard before describing the scene. "It's like…someone dragged off the whole building and dropped it in the lake."
It was true. Under the remnants of a glorious sunset, the dock was still there – jutting out like a splinter into the shimmering water. But everything else?
Gone. Gone. Gone.
All that remained was a cracked concrete foundation, some scattered splinters of wood, and a churned-up patch of sand where weeds used to grow.
On the phone, Tessa said, "Oh come on. Are you sure you're at the right place?"
I wanted to snap at her, to say of course I was sure. But that would've been terribly unfair, considering that I'd asked myself that same question a dozen times since getting off my bike.
Had I lost my mind?
Maybe.
Into the phone, I said, "Do you want to come out and see for yourself?" I'd said it absently. But now, I couldn't wait for another pair of eyes to confirm I wasn't going crazy. Softly, I added, "Please? I mean…I could really use a second opinion here."
She didn't hesitate. "Hang on. I'll be there in five minutes."
Relief surged through me. It would take Tessa longer than five, but I wasn't about to quibble. "Thanks…I'll be waiting."
On my own ride over here, I'd kept stopping to practice what I might say. Most of it had seemed pathetic, filled with all kinds of excuses that a city-dweller might never understand.
But now, I didn't need to worry.
Whatever I might've said, there was no one here to listen.
A seagull squawked from somewhere overhead, but otherwise, everything was quiet – peaceful, even, like nothing had ever happened here, like a whole chapter of my life had been erased overnight.
Behind me, hooves clopped and wheels crunched on gravel.
I turned to look and spotted a flatbed wagon loaded with scraps of lumber. On the bench seat behind the two horses sat two men wearing jeans and yellow construction vests. One of them was holding the reins while the other clutched a battered clipboard.
When the wagon reached my side, the guy with the clipboard asked, "You didn't spot a thermos, did you?"
With my heart in my throat, I looked around. "Actually, I don't see much of anything."
The guy holding the reins turned to the guy with the clipboard and said, "Told ya."
Mister Clipboard looked annoyed. "It doesn't hurt to check."
"So check," the other guy said. "But if we miss the barge, it'll be your ass, not mine."
The guy with the clipboard hopped off the wagon and quickly scanned the site before heading toward the remains of the dock.
I followed after him. "Hey, can you tell me what happened?"
He stopped and turned to face me. Squinting against the setting sun, he replied, "Hard to say. Teddy might've grabbed it by mistake."
I shook my head. "Teddy?"
"Yeah, his is orange, too." He frowned. "Except his is a cheap knock-off." He puffed out his chest. "Not the real deal like mine."
Oh, for God's sake. "I didn't mean with the thermos. I meant with the apartment."
He glanced around. "What apartment?"
"I mean…this was a house, right? A boathouse, with an apartment upstairs? I was here just yesterday."
And yet, it felt like a lifetime ago.
He lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. "Oh, that ," he said. "Demo crew finished maybe an hour ago."
I was almost too stunned to speak. "Seriously?"
He nodded. "Brought in a big team on the first ferry, did most of it by hand. Old structure came down nice and easy. Horses hauled out the big stuff, and we called it good."
I looked past him toward the empty slab. "But…isn't that kind of sudden?"
He shrugged. "Not that sudden. The job's been on the books for weeks."
I gulped. "Weeks?"
"Yeah, the original order said next Friday, but then the boss called last night and said the owner wanted it gone ASAP."
Last night? Was this all my fault? Had Griff called to have it demolished the moment I'd left?
I asked, "Which owner? Do you have a name?"
He snorted. "Hell no. I don't even got my thermos."
From the wagon, the other guy shouted, "Screw the thermos!"
"But it's my favorite!" Clipboard Guy called back.
"Fine," the other guy snapped. "With the bonus, I'll buy you a new one. Now hurry up!"
"Oh, keep your panties on," Clipboard Guy said. "We've still got a half hour."
"Yeah, and we're not driving a rocketship, are we?"
"Jeez, I'm coming," Mister Clipboard grumbled as he started lumbering back to the wagon.
Desperate for more information, I followed beside him. "But wait…why'd the owner change the schedule? Do you know?"
"Beats me," he said. "But the guy promised us a nice bonus to make it happen."
His co-worker called out, "Which we'll lose if you don't get your ass in the seat."
Mister Clipboard turned to me with a smile. "You see what I gotta put up with?" He pointed vaguely toward the slab. "About the thermos…if you find it, run it down to the dock, alright?"
I didn't even know which dock he meant. But it hardly mattered. The thermos was obviously gone.
Just like Griff.