A Man Overboard by Shawn Hopkins Read Free Book Online

phone down, and then slammed it again for added measure. Joseph and Mother Viktoriya were failing to answer his calls. He stared at it, his mind racing through different scenarios that might prevent them from picking up the phone. Of course, there were limitless possibilities, all of which could be innocently rational. Nevertheless, he felt a bubble of concern rising in his stomach. Grabbing the phone, he called a taxi.
    After arrangements were made, he walked to the bed and picked up their luggage—his and Stacey’s—before leaving the hotel room. It was time to go home. He was done waiting on the police. It was obvious, no matter how much pressure he put on them, that nothing was going to be done. And though he hated to admit it, now that they were docked, there was probably nothing they could do. Even if they did believe him, the men in masks were surely gone by now. With no body of evidence, nothing but his word and that damn suicide note…
    The suicide note.
    It chipped at his subconscious, an itch begging to be scratched, but there was still too much shock and pain engulfing him to allow for a clear and reasonable evaluation of all the facts. That was all for another time. Not now. Now, he needed to get on a plane and figure out how he was going to explain this to his son.

10
     
    As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t take his eyes off the water below. An image of Stacey floating face down somewhere out there, bobbing up and down, would not leave him. The empty seat beside him just sat there laughing, taunting his inability to process the sudden, horrifying turn of events. As he finally managed to peel his eyes off the ocean, he wondered again if leaving Nassau translated into giving up on Stacey. What if she was there? What if she had been kidnapped, and she was actually on the islands he just left? But even if she was, what could he do about it? He wasn’t familiar with the Bahamas, didn’t know a single person who could help him. He wasn’t one of the characters in a movie that always seemed to have the necessary background needed to go on a solo rescue mission—as if this sort of thing only happened to ex-intelligence officers or army veterans. He was a salesman from Philadelphia. Any chance he’d have at finding his wife would come via the FBI or Interpol or some agency that knew how to find US citizens abroad. Because he sure as hell didn’t.
    “Excuse me, sir, can I get you anything?” a stewardess asked, leaning over.
    He rolled his heavy eyes to the young lady. “Something strong…please.”
    “Would you like—”
    “Anything. The strongest you have.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “And as much as you can.”
    “Sir, I—”
    “Listen, Kati,” he said, his eyes focusing on her nametag, “my wife is somewhere out there…floating.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder at the window.
    Her brow furrowed.
    “We were on a cruise,” he said, and his voice matched the flatness in his eyes.
    Her hand went to her mouth as if the surprise might physically jump out of it. “Oh, I am so sorry, sir… I…”
    He nodded. “Something strong. Please.”
     
    * * * *
     
    Two hours later, he was pretty much drunk. But somehow, in his drunkenness, he was able to find thoughts unimpeded by the anguish that had for three days prevented any kind of analytical process. Reaching into the seatback in front of him, he extracted a magazine. He opened up to the emptiest page he could find and started making notes.
    — men in black masks
    —suicide note
    Unfortunately, that was as far as he got. There were no other pieces to include. So, emerging from the depths of drunken stupor was the conclusion that the whole thing must have been a case of mistaken identity. It was the only thing that made sense. Someone got a room number mixed up. Drugs … They’d mistaken him for some dealer that crossed his supplier. Had to be. But then what would they do with Stacey… to Stacey? He didn’t want to