he was called away. He’s a cop.”
The twinkle vanished. “Oh, that dead body down S’n Ant’ny?”
How news travels, Amanda thought. Of course, even here in this land where cell signals could evaporate in a strong wind, there were probably tweets and videos all over the Internet. “What are people saying about it?” she asked.
“From away. Off a boat, most likely. One of them big foreign freezer trawlers that’s always sneaking into our waters. Some of them gots thirty, forty workers on ’em, paid next to nudding. Poor bugger probably fell overboard. Or jumped, hoping to swim ashore.”
Mindful of Chris’s admonition, Amanda said nothing about the major crimes unit. “Factory freezer trawler. That sounds ominous.”
“It is. They’s killing the local fishing industry all along the coast. Not just here, but in coastal communities all around the world. Big international corporations that can take in a haul of five hundred tons of fish at one go, freeze it on the boat, and ship it all over the place. Strips the fish right out of the water. First the cod, and now they’re doing it to the shrimp. Most of it goes to Asia.”
Amanda thought about the argument Phil had had with the stranger in the pub, who’d said he just wanted to go home. “What countries are these foreign ships from?”
“Oh, all over d’ world, my dear. The United States, Norway, Korea, you name it. Mind you, the government’s tried to put a few limits in place since all the cod disappeared. They tossed a bone to the Newfoundlanders here that were losing their livelihoods by extending Canadian waters to two hundred miles offshore and banning foreign-owned ships inside that — Jaysus b’y, dat was a helluva fight — but there’s a lot of ocean for Fisheries and Oceans to patrol to keep the foreign boats out, and even the Canadian trawlers ship their catch to Asia. Still cuts the local fisherman out of the lion’s share.” He rolled his eyes and turned away. “Oh, don’t get me started on Ottawa! Let me get them eggs on for you instead, darlin’.”
Once he’d disappeared into the kitchen, Amanda browsed through news and Twitter updates. The official news reports made no mention of possible murder, and apparently the lighting had been poor enough that none of the spectators and cellphone addicts had seen anything suspicious. Speculation was along the same lines as the motel owner — a foreigner off a trawler. From the tone of most of the comments, little sympathy was being wasted on him.
Her phone buzzed, startling her. She glanced at the call display and her breath caught with hope.
“Hi, Sheri!”
“Any news?” Sheri sounded tense and focused.
Amanda wished she could be more reassuring. “Chris and I have picked up his trail on the northern peninsula,” she said, avoiding mention of Phil’s black moods and heavy drinking. “The good news is, he’s still following a plan.”
“He sent me a letter.”
“When?”
“It arrived yesterday.”
Who sends a letter? Amanda thought. Not an email, but a letter! “What did he say?”
“It was a thank-you letter. I know that sounds crazy, but that’s what it was. Short and to the point. Thank you for giving me twelve great years and the joy of Tyler, thank you for taking a wreck of a man back and being so patient.”
Amanda’s breath caught. This was not a thank-you letter. While she was searching for the right words, Sheri supplied them. Her voice filled with tears. “He’s saying goodbye, Amanda. He says he hopes I find a better life. Sweet Jesus! What about Tyler?”
Amanda pictured Phil with his son as she remembered them. Phil clowning, Tyler laughing — an intense, intellectual boy made playful by his father’s infectious nature. Phil, what the hell are you up to?
“Sheri, it’s time to report —”
“Jason’s on it. He was so worried when he saw the letter that he’s gone looking himself.”
“What do you mean, gone looking?”
“I mean, he’s booked off work, packed his truck, and gone looking. I wanted to go with him, but he said I had to stay here, in case Phil or Tyler got in touch.”
“Sheri, you need to make an official report!”
“Jason did. The alerts are out. But one angry husband taking off on a bender? Jason says that’ll be nothing but a little footnote on the police blotter.”
Amanda scrambled for an answer. She thought of how quickly news had spread about the dead body. How Twitter and other social media had changed communication, even here.
“Get his picture out on Facebook, Sheri.”
“I don’t know how —”
“Then learn!”
A shocked silence fell. Anger, frustration, and fear roiled in the gulf between them. Amanda resisted the urge to apologize for her outburst. Sheri was a capable, resourceful woman, but she needed to be shocked into action. Finally Sheri drew a deep breath. “I will,” she said. “And please! For the love of God, keep me in the loop, Amanda. I don’t care what you think of me, that’s my son out there.”
Amanda felt a twinge of shame as she hung up. Sheri was right; she had been blaming her. But who was she, Amanda, to pass judgment? To hold herself above reproach? Who knew for sure how nobly they would react when desperation stared them down?
She was poring over the map with renewed urgency when the motel owner returned with her eggs still sizzling on the plate. His smile faded at the sight of her.
“Bad news?”
Amanda managed a wan smile of thanks as she took the plate from him. “I’m not sure. My friend is doing some worrying and puzzling things. He met another man at the pub where they went for dinner. Did he bring anyone back with him afterward?”
He gave her a quizzical look. “I was dead to the world, barely heard the truck. But the next morning, there was only him and the boy at breakfast.”
“Did you overhear any of their plans?”
“Well, your friend wasn’t much for talking. Mostly sat there staring at his food and looking at the map. The boy did the talking for two.”
“What about?”
“Fishing nets, boats, birds. About a boat trip he wanted to take out to an island.”
“Do you know where?”
“No, but the father didn’t seem interested. Was looking at some places more remote.”
“Where? Up at the northern tip?”
“Well now, that’s a busy place what with the Viking stuff and St. Anthony being a big regional centre. But there’s plenty to interest a young boy. Icebergs coming down from the Arctic, polar bears coming ashore on the floes, lots of moose, black bears, and birds. Beautiful country.”
A family entered the restaurant and the
