Page 265 of Hidden Depths

Three men.

Baseball caps.

Sunglasses.

Long sleeves despite the summer heat.

One of them slowly lifted binoculars.

Not toward the marina.

Toward Thomas's boathouse.

Every muscle in my body tightened.

"Storm."

She heard it in my voice immediately.

"What?"

"Don't turn around."

Her smile disappeared.

"What is it?"

"I think we have company."

"Who is it?"

"I don't know."

"Are they armed?"

"I can't tell."

The boat continued drifting.

Almost lazily.

As if they belonged there.

But professionals always looked relaxed.

It was the amateurs who looked nervous.

I reached for the small radio clipped beneath my shirt.

My voice remained calm.

"Ben."

The response came instantly.

"Go."

"Walk outside."