Chapter 2
REID
At eight forty-three, I checked my phone.
No missed calls.
No new messages.
I set it facedown on the workbench and tried to listen as Caleb explained why the inverter installation was taking twice as long as quoted.
“The previous owner wired the cabin himself,” he said. “I’m pretty sure he used whatever colors were emotionally available.”
“Replace the run.”
“I am replacing it. I’m just asking permission to curse him.”
“Granted.”
Owen worked ten feet away, sanding the edge of a hatch frame. The sound scraped through the bay in steady passes.
I looked at the clock.
Eight forty-five.
Noah should have reached Bellweather twenty minutes ago. He might have gone directly into the boat and forgotten to call. He had done that before. Not often, but enough that I could use it as an explanation.
I picked up a wrench.
Put it down.
Caleb glanced at me. “He’s probably under a dashboard.”
“He was supposed to check in.”
“He’ll check in.”
“He always checks in.”
Caleb lowered the cable strippers. “Traffic’s bad. The radio said there are closures north of town.”
“He took Breaker.”
“You told him to.”
“Yes.”
“Then he took Breaker.”
I knew that. Noah argued reflexively, but when it mattered, he listened. He would complain about the added distance and then follow the safest route because he knew I worried.
At eight fifty-one, I called him.
The call went directly to voicemail.
I ended it without leaving a message.
Something cold gathered beneath my sternum.
Owen stopped sanding. “Want me to ring Bellweather?”
“I’ll do it.”
The marina office answered on the fourth ring.
“No, Mr. Bennett hasn’t arrived,” the receptionist said. “We were expecting him around eight thirty.”
“Call me if he shows up.”
“Of course.”
Caleb watched my face.
I dialed Noah again.
Voicemail.
The cold feeling spread.
“Maybe his phone died,” Owen said.
“It was charged.”
“Could’ve dropped it.”
“He keeps it clipped inside his jacket.”
Caleb’s mouth tightened. He knew Noah’s habits nearly as well as I did.
I opened the location app we used for company vehicles. The van’s signal had stopped moving thirty-seven minutes earlier on Breaker Avenue.
I stared at the small blue dot.
“What?” Caleb asked.
“It’s stationary.”
“Maybe he pulled over.”
“There’s nothing there.”
The location was pinned on the wooded ascent above the river. No businesses. No houses. No turnoffs.
I was reaching for my coat when the office door opened.
Marlowe lifted his head from beneath the heater.
Two sheriff’s deputies stepped inside.
One was an older woman with silver hair pulled into a knot. The other was a young man whose rain jacket shone with water.
People in uniform entered a workplace for all kinds of reasons.
Permits. Theft reports. Questions about harbor property.
Neither deputy looked at the boats.
The woman’s gaze found me immediately.
“Mr. Callahan?”
The workshop seemed to contract.
“Yes.”
“I’m Deputy Alvarez. This is Deputy Kemp. Are you the owner of Callahan Marine Works?”
“Yes.”
“Is Noah Bennett employed here?”
The wrench slid from my hand and struck the concrete.
I barely heard it.
“He’s my partner,” I said. “We live upstairs.”
Her expression changed. Not pity, exactly. Recognition of what she was about to do to me.
“There’s been a serious road incident on Breaker Avenue.”
The floor moved.
Caleb was suddenly beside me, though I hadn’t seen him cross the bay.
“Is he alive?” I asked.
Deputy Alvarez did not hesitate. “Yes.”
Air tore into my lungs.
Alive.
I fixed myself to the word.
“He was found in the company van,” she continued. “A commercial load shifted during the storm. His vehicle was struck and forced through the roadside barrier.”
“Where is he?”
“Greyhaven Regional. He was transported by air ambulance.”
Air ambulance.
The phrase did not fit inside my mind.
“I need to go.”
“We’ll take you.”
“I can drive.”
“No,” Caleb said.
I turned toward him.
His face had gone pale beneath his freckles. “You’re not driving.”
“I need my keys.”
“I have them.”
I didn’t remember giving them to him.
Owen came closer, removing his safety glasses. “I’ll stay here.”
“Close the yard,” Caleb said. “Cancel everything.”
“We have boats—”
“Reid.” Caleb caught my shoulders. “Listen to me. Owen and I have the yard. You go.”
I looked down and saw that my hands were shaking.
Grease marked the creases of my fingers. I had been replacing a corroded bracket. Ten minutes earlier, that had mattered.
Now nothing existed beyond a hospital I could not picture and the fact that Noah was alive.
Alive.
Deputy Kemp held the door.
I followed them into the rain.
The drive became a collection of fragments.
Blue light flickering across wet storefronts.
Deputy Alvarez speaking into a radio.
My knee striking the door because I could not stop it from bouncing.
I called Noah three times, though I knew he wouldn’t answer.
On the fourth attempt, Deputy Alvarez gently lowered my hand.
“His phone may have been damaged,” she said.
I stared at the screen. The photograph behind the call display showed Noah asleep on our couch with Marlowe sprawled across his chest. His hair stuck up at one side. His mouth was slightly open.
He would hate that I had used it.
I pressed the phone against my thigh.
“What happened?” I asked.
“A pipe came through the front of the van. Rescue crews had to stabilize the slope before they could extract him.”
I stopped breathing.
Deputy Alvarez continued in the careful tone people used around unexploded things. “The first responders reported that he was conscious briefly.”
“Did he say anything?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was he in pain?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Callahan.”
“Reid.”
“All right. Reid.”
The hospital entrance was crowded with people sheltering from the weather. Deputy Kemp guided me through the emergency department while Alvarez spoke to a nurse at the desk.
I heard Noah’s name.
I heard trauma surgery.
I heard next of kin.
The nurse looked at me. “Are you legally married?”
“No.”
“Registered domestic partnership?”
“No.”
“We live together,” I said quickly. “Five years. I’m his emergency contact. His medical information is in the company records. He has a sister in Idaho. His parents are alive, but he doesn’t speak to his father and his mother—”
“Mr. Callahan.”
“I’m his family.”
The words came out harder than I intended.
The nurse’s face softened. “I understand. Let me find the trauma liaison.”
They put me in a consultation room with beige walls, a box of tissues, and three chairs that looked designed to discourage rest.
I stayed standing.
Deputy Alvarez brought me water. I held the paper cup until it collapsed in my grip.
A woman in navy scrubs entered. Her badge read DANA LEE, RN.
“Reid?”
“Yes.”
“I’m part of the trauma team caring for Noah.”
“Can I see him?”
“Not yet.”
“What happened to him?”
She closed the door. “He sustained several injuries in the collision. There are fractures to his left arm and the right side of his pelvis. He has internal bleeding from a damaged spleen, and the surgeons are addressing that now.”
“All right.”
The words felt detached from meaning. Bones could be fixed. Organs could be repaired. Medicine knew how to do those things.
Dana watched me closely.
“He also suffered a significant head injury.”
My vision narrowed.
“What does significant mean?”
“There was bleeding around the brain. The neurosurgical team is operating to relieve the pressure.”
“Is he going to live?”
“I can’t answer that yet.”
“He was alive when they brought him in.”
“Yes.”
“So he’s going to live.”
“I know you need certainty. I wish I could give it to you.”
I walked to the wall because my legs no longer trusted themselves. The paint was textured beneath my palm.
“Does he have allergies?” she asked.
“No.”
“Any medications?”
“No. Sometimes ibuprofen. He had antibiotics last winter for an infected cut, but he finished them.”
“Previous surgeries?”
“Appendix when he was nineteen. Shoulder repair at twenty-four. Right shoulder. He has two screws.”
She wrote everything down.
“Blood type?”
“O positive.”
“Any history of seizures?”
“No.”
“Heart problems?”
“No. He runs. He swims. He’s healthy.”
My voice broke on the last word.
Dana set the clipboard aside. “Is there anyone I can call for you?”
“His sister.”
“Do you have her number?”
I opened my phone and stared at the screen.
I knew her number was stored under Leah. My thumb would not move correctly.
Dana took the phone when I handed it to her.
“May I?”
I nodded.
She found the contact and passed the phone back.
Leah answered cheerfully.
“Hey, Reid. What’s up?”
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came.
“Reid?”
“There was an accident.”
Silence.
“What kind of accident?”
“Noah’s in surgery.”
Her breath hitched. “Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
I held the phone tighter. “He’s alive.”
She began to cry.
I told her what little I knew. She asked whether she should come. I said yes, then told her to wait until we knew more, then said yes again. My thoughts would not remain in one shape long enough to trust.
“I’m booking a flight,” she said. “I’ll call you when I know the time.”
“All right.”
“Don’t be alone.”
“I’m not.”
The deputies had left. Dana was gone. The room was empty except for me.
“I’m not,” I repeated.
Leah knew I was lying. She let it pass.
After the call, I sat.
Time stopped behaving normally.
A minute could expand until it became unbearable. An hour could vanish without leaving evidence. People entered, spoke, and left. Someone brought another cup of water. Someone else asked me to sign forms.
I signed Noah’s name once.
The clerk slid the paper back and showed me where mine belonged.
At some point, Caleb arrived carrying my coat and a canvas bag.
“You left this in the workshop,” he said.
I looked at him.
His hair was wet. His face had the strained composure of someone trying to hold himself together for my sake.
“What time is it?”
“Almost one.”
I had been there more than three hours.
“Owen’s at the yard,” he said. “He called every customer. Nobody’s expecting us to open tomorrow.”
“We can’t close indefinitely.”
“We can.”
“Payroll—”
“I know how to run payroll.”
“The parts order—”
“Reid.”