Page 7 of Let It Snow

“Let’s go pick them up. They’re probably stranded down at the port now, cold and too proud to turn around and come back here,” Cap said. “Unless you’re too proud—”

“Of course I’m too proud.” He shrugged, admitting to feeling repelled right now at the thought of going out, of going after Shana. He needed to let her go. But he didn’t need to let her drown in a storm.

“Well? You coming?”

“I’ll go for the ride since I’ll never get any sleep around here with the storm blowing, and I’m not fit for anything else.” Dane grabbed his coat from the door—a serviceable all weather Carhartt with a tear in the elbow and dirt streaking it like a badge of honor. It was only a year old, but dearly worn. Shana had given it to him last Christmas.

Cap took his wool dress coat from the hook and the warm-looking plaid scarf that matched.

“Some Christmas Eve,” Cap said and clapped him on the back. Dane felt a pinch of regret. Cap was a good man, had been a good friend. Deserved a better friend than Dane had been.

“I’ve had worse.”

Dane shoved open the back door against the wind. They’d both had worse. The kind of Christmas Eves that made them forget the fact that there was such a thing as Christmas. Notions of Santa Claus bringing gifts to children, decorated trees, and lights around town might as well have come from an alien existence, a fantasy on those Christmases. On this Christmas.

They paused against the wind, Dane hunched against the now driving snow, and got into Cap’s truck. Dane was glad Cap had brought the truck and not the state police car for this weather.

Inside the cab, Cap said, “What did that weather report say? This a squall? When is it going to let up?”

Dane shook his head. “According to the weather report, this ain’t happening at all. It’s out at sea. And it’s not a squall. It’s a fierce storm and it was due to hit tomorrow—then slow down some when it hit land.”

Cap gave him a look like he was trying to figure out if Dane was for real.

“The report was off. They miscalculated or Mother Nature took a turn.” He gave Cap a hard look. “Get us down to the ferry terminal.” He felt his pulse tick up a notch, thoughts on the edge of his mind creeping in about Shana and the old padre heading out in a boat.

Cap put the truck in gear.

Dane didn’t like not being the one behind the wheel. He fiddled with the radio and found only static.

Cap said, “The coast guard would never let them go out if the weather was bad at sea.” He pulled into the street and proceeded at a crawl. There were no cars on the road. Hardly any traffic on a clear day this time of year on the seasonal vacation island that was Martha’s Vineyard.

“You’re driving like your grandma. This is a truck built for the damn snow, man. Pick it up.”

Cap raised a brow, gave him an evil grin, and stomped on the gas. “You got it, Mr. Death Wish.”

For the second time that day, Dane’s pulse blipped to a lively pace.

Cap pulled up along the curb of the deserted street outside the Steamship Authority. The snow was piling up.

“You go inside and talk to them. Find out if the ferry is running. I’ll wait here.”

“Ah. So there’s the pride. Fine. I’ll check on them. You sit tight. On your ass.”

“You calling me an ass, Cap?” He shouldn’t push the point. He was an ass. He didn’t really have a problem with Cap calling him out on it, did he? He took a deep breath.

Cap didn’t bother answering him. He slammed the door closed.

It didn’t take him long to return with a shake of his head and a swirl of snow.

“The boat is gone.”

“Shit.”

“What now?” Cap said.

“Head to the Coast Guard station. I want to talk to Vendi.”

Station Vineyard Haven had to be one of the smallest US Coast Guard stations in the country. Or at least Dane hoped so as he pushed open the door. Cap followed him inside.