Wood's Harbor Read Free

the stern, hoping that cats did indeed always land on their feet. It squealed on impact and he grabbed the rail and hoisted himself over the bow, dropping to the ground with a thud. 
    The men were still going back and forth, apparently making some kind of a deal. He crawled on all fours into the brush, crouched, and waited while they finished their negotiation. The men moved towards the office and although they were out of sight there was nowhere for him to go. The daylight was his enemy and he eyed the other boats lining the road, finally selecting a sailboat clearly in need of maintenance. He went towards it, finding the cat at his heels, and couldn’t help but smile. Without a thought, he lifted it onto the deck of the boat before climbing the swim ladder behind it.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    THREE
    Mac lay on the bunk sweating in the hot cabin, his mind churning through the possibilities. The vents did little to disperse the heat. He had tried the small fan by his head, but the boat’s batteries were long dead. Sleep eluded him and he tossed and turned for what seemed like hours, before finally giving up and searching the boat for anything that might prove useful. For what, he didn’t know. Somehow he needed to see Mel and get his life back on track, but beyond finding Trufante, he had no next step. 
    He prowled through the cabinets and holds, making a small pile on the table of anything more useful than the lint in his pockets. The boat was in rough shape and he didn’t think the owner would miss anything. Houses age, but boats decay, every day a little more, until they reach the point of no return, where it takes a complete overhaul to refurbish them. This boat fit that bill. It looked abandoned; the once proud owner had probably stopped paying the storage payments some time ago and the boat would continue to rot until the yard needed the space. 
    Under the bench seat he found an open case of water. It looked old, but even if it had an expiration date, he would have ignored it. He took a bottle, drained it, then opened another and resumed his search. A cabinet yielded some cans of tuna and beans. He set them on the table and prowled through the drawers, where he found an opener, and sat with the curtains drawn, eating, thinking and sweating. After finishing, he examined what he had collected from his search: matches, a small knife, and a few dollars in loose change. He slid the curtains enough to gauge the height of the sun in the sky and guessed it was about noon. With no choice but to wait, he found an old John D. MacDonald novel and spent the afternoon with Travis MacGee. 
    ***
     
    The cabin was in the shadow of the adjacent boat when he opened his eyes and realized he must have fallen asleep. He made his way to the head and used the contents of one of the water bottles to wash. A quick search of the cabinets in the berth upgraded his wardrobe to a clean T-shirt and shorts. An old Marlins ball cap caught his attention. Though not a hat fan, he decided to take it. By the time he washed and dressed, the sun had reached the horizon. He prepared to move out. 
    With two water bottles stuffed in the outer pockets of his cargo shorts, he loaded the small cache of supplies in the other pockets. He crept up the companionway and stuck his head out to look for any activity. The yard was quiet and he went to the transom, climbed down the swim ladder, and after scanning the yard, walked towards the road. The cat reappeared, meowing for attention, but he ignored it, pulled down the bill of the hat over his face, and stepped onto US 1. Twilight was rush hour in the Keys, with trucks pulling boats both ways and half-baked drunk tourists cruising bars and gift shops. 
    The traffic was heavy and he waited for an opening before crossing the highway. Back on the frontage road, he started walking west towards Marathon. Fisherman’s Hospital, where he suspected Mel was, and Trufante’s apartment both lay in that