67. #2
She had spent her life running toward danger for us.
Now she expected me to wait while Ben faced it alone.
“He’s hurt.”
“You don’t know that.”
“There was blood on his face.”
“You said it wasn’t his.”
“He lies when he’s protecting someone.”
Storm glanced toward Ward.
She knew exactly what I meant.
Ward took out his phone.
“I’ll contact the Coast Guard.”
“They’re already there.”
“Then we find out what happened before anyone moves.”
Thomas pushed himself out of the chair.
Nathan caught his arm.
“Sit down.”
“No.”
“You can barely walk.”
“I can walk well enough.”
Thomas faced me.
“Show me the photograph.”
I handed him the phone.
The moment he saw the damaged compass, fear entered his eyes.
“What is it?” I asked.
“That symbol was never part of James’s game.”
“Whose was it?”
Thomas stared at the message.
“Elias Ross used it to mark the people who betrayed his organization.”
“But Elias tried to stop August.”
“In the end.”
“What happened before that?”
Thomas sank back into the chair.
“Before that, Elias was worse than his son.”
Nathan moved closer.
“What aren’t you telling us?”
“The man behind the second gate wasn’t working for August.”
“Then who was he?”
Thomas looked at me.
“James’s brother.”
Silence fell across the beach.
Grandpa didn’t have a brother.
At least, he had never spoken of one.
“What was his name?” Storm asked.
“Jonathan Sinclair.”
Mom stared at Thomas.
“My father-in-law never had a brother.”
“Yes, he did.”
“I would know.”
“James erased him from the family records.”
“Why?”
“Because Jonathan worked with Elias Ross.”
The body beneath Blackwater wasn’t Grandpa.
It was the uncle none of us knew existed.
And he had died wearing Grandpa’s ring.
My phone rang again.
Ben.
I answered immediately.
“Where are you?”
A stranger spoke.
“Calle Sinclair.”
The voice was low.
Male.
Older.
Not August Ross.
Not anyone I recognized.
“Where is Ben?”
“He came looking for the truth.”
“If you hurt him—”
“You’ll do what?”
I walked away from the others, but Ward remained close enough to hear.
“What do you want?”
“You already know.”
“The camera?”
“No.”
The man laughed softly.
“I want the woman behind it.”
My blood ran cold.
“Why?”
“Because James didn’t leave the final record beneath Blackwater.”
“Where did he leave it?”
“With the granddaughter who never stopped watching.”
“I don’t have anything.”
“You photographed it aboard Nathan Hale’s trawler.”
My mind raced through hundreds of images.
The trawler.
The hull.
The silver-haired captain watching us.
The marking we mistook for coordinates.
“What did I photograph?”
“You’ll bring the original memory card to Blackwater.”
“Not until I speak to Ben.”
A sound came through the phone.
A struggle.
Then Ben’s voice.
“Calle, don’t—”
A blow silenced him.
Every part of me went still.
“Ben?”
“He’s alive,” the man said. “How long he remains that way depends on you.”
“When?”
“Midnight tomorrow.”
“That’s more than twenty-four hours.”
“You’ll need the time to find what James hid in the photograph.”
“Which photograph?”
“The last one you took before the storm.”
The line disconnected.
I opened the photographs stored on my camera.
Hundreds appeared.
The trawler.
Mariner’s Crown.
Blackwater.
Nathan.
My sisters.
Ben standing near the stern with the wind pulling at his blond hair.
The last photograph before the storm showed nothing important.
Only the ocean behind Nathan’s trawler.
I enlarged it.
A dark shape appeared beneath the surface.
Not a rock.
Not a shadow.
A sunken yacht.
Its name was almost invisible beneath the water.
I enlarged the image again.
Three letters appeared.
TIDE.
Thomas looked over my shoulder.
His cane fell from his hand.
“No.”
“What is it?”
He backed away from the photograph.
“James sank that boat before you were born.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t.”
“Then who did?”
Thomas’s face emptied of color.
“Jonathan.”
The phone vibrated one final time.
A message from Ben’s number appeared.
COME ALONE, OR THE TIDE TAKES HIM TOO.
I looked across the black water.
Somewhere beneath it waited the yacht my grandfather tried to erase.
Somewhere inside Blackwater, Ben was bleeding because he had come back for my family.
Now I would go after him.
Whatever it cost.
Whatever the tide had buried.
I would find him.
Because Ben had once held me above the edge of a cliff and refused to let go.
Now it was my turn.
END OF PREVIEW
I am giving away short stories of the girls and their grandfather.
Before The Storm
is book one.
The Sinclair sisters’ story began long before the Sea Whisper…
Return to the Sinclair shipyard, where five adventurous sisters learn about boats, bravery, and the secrets carried by the sea from their beloved grandfather, James Sinclair.
Thank you, for your continued support. I