Chapter 8: Shore
My father was waiting at the end of the dock.
He looked older than he had at the wedding.
Four days older in a way that had nothing to do with days.
He was standing very still with his hands in his coat pockets, watching the vessel come in, and when I stepped off the gangway he crossed the distance between us in four strides and put both arms around me and didn't say anything at all.
I held on.
After a long moment he said, into the top of my head: "The second device worked."
"Yes."
"Good." His voice was not entirely steady.
"Good."
We stood there a little longer.
Around us, the dock was busy — officers, agents, a forensic team moving equipment, two news vehicles that hadn't yet been allowed past the barrier.
None of it touched us.
Eventually he stepped back and looked at me.
His hands were on my shoulders.
"Are you hurt?"
"No.
They kept the dose low enough that I'd seem sick, not incapacitated.
They needed me to be able to walk to the railing."
His expression didn't change.
But something behind his eyes did.
"Dad," I said.
"You knew before the wedding."
"Yes."
"You should have told me."
"Yes," he said again.
"I should have.
I made the wrong call.
I thought I could protect you without—" He stopped.
"I thought I could manage it.
I was wrong to make that decision without you.
I'm sorry."
I looked at him.
In my entire life, I could count on one hand the number of times my father had said those words and meant them without qualification.
This was one of them.
"We'll talk about it properly," I said.
"Later."
"Yes."
Diane appeared at his shoulder with a briefcase and a phone and the efficient, forward-moving energy she always carried.
"The port authority needs you both for thirty minutes," she said.
"Then you're free to go.
Graham's family is being transported separately — there'll be no contact."
"His parents," I said.
"What happens to them?"
"They were present and participating," Diane said.
"That's enough.
The DA's office will make the specific determinations, but conspiracy charges are likely for all three." She paused.
"The attorney who drafted the contract has already retained his own counsel.
He knows what's coming."
May you like
My father put his hand briefly on my back — the same gesture he had used my entire life when he wanted me to know he was there without making a production of it.
We walked up the dock together.
