Swimming to Catalina (Stone Barrington 4)

“Just finish the soup and get some rest; you’ll feel better soon.”

Stone fell back onto the berth and let go. Finally, he could let go. There were sounds of an engine starting and the anchor being pulled up, then they seemed to be moving. He went back to sleep.

When he woke, the clock on the bulkhead read just after 1:00 A.M. Stone struggled to sit up.

“Tom, he’s awake,” the woman said. She was sitting on the opposite berth, watching Stone.

“Will you come and take the helm?” he called back.

The boat heeled, and Stone could hear water rushing past the hull.

“The wind is coming up a little,” the man said. “Just aim her at that star there; your course is a little north of east, and the wind’s on the beam.” He came below.

“Hi,” Stone said.

“Feeling better?”

“Better is too strong a word, I think, but I’m feeling vaguely alive, which is an improvement.”

The young man laughed. “I’m Tom Helford,” he said. “I’m a medical student at UCLA, fourth year, which is why I haven’t yet called the Coast Guard to get you to a hospital. My diagnosis was that you’d be all right after some rest and nourishment. You hungry?”

Stone nodded. “I missed dinner. Where are we headed?”

“Long Beach; that’s where I keep the boat. Don’t get to use it much these days, though.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve cut your cruise short,” Stone said. “By the way, my name is Stone Barrington.”

“Good to meet you. Surprised to meet you.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“You want to tell me what happened?”

“I was on my way to a dinner party aboard a yacht anchored off Catalina, but I think the invitation wasn’t sincere.”

Helford laughed. “I guess not, what with the chain around your waist. Must have been hard to swim.”

“It was harder when there was an anchor shackled to the chain.”

“Holy shit! They didn’t intend for you to come up again, did they?”

“No, they didn’t.”

“I’ve got a cell phone aboard. Why don’t we call the cops and have them meet us at Long Beach?”

“That reminds me,” Stone said. “There was a cell phone in my suit.”

“Here it is,” Helford said, holding it up. “I emptied your pockets onto the chart table.”

“Will you take out the battery and soak the phone in some fresh water?”

“Sure, if you think it’ll help.”

“It can’t hurt; I know the salt water won’t help.”

Helford pumped some water into the galley sink and dropped Stone’s cell phone into it, then started making some sandwiches. “I see by your ID that you’re a cop.”

“Retired.”