Circle of Bones

She’d had to take a negative tack, motorsailing to hold tighter to the wind so that she could get clear of the reefs off the eastern side of Dominica. Now, she was trying to pinch up to hold a northerly course to clear Je

The airport was somewhere along this shore, but Riley didn’t see any planes taking off or landing. She stuck her face outside the dodger and sca

Once she was a good five miles beyond the point, Riley stood up, stretched and made her way below, moving from handhold to handhold on the heaving boat. She wanted to check her radar again. Even on the twenty-four mile range, aside from Shadow Chaser, she hadn’t seen a thing. So far, so good. Maybe this idea of going up the ocean side of the island had thrown them off their tail. Or maybe Cole and Theo were dealing with them about now. She had tried contacting the guys on the other boat by radio earlier, but they were out of VHF range and they weren’t reading her on the SSB cha

She slid into the chart table seat, turned on the radar at the panel and waited for the image to appear. With her autopilot, chart plotter and refrigeration all ru

A message appeared on the radar telling her to push the power button to start up the ante

Riley changed the range on the radar from twenty-four miles down to twelve. Using the buttons on the front of the screen, she moved the cross hair symbol over the radar target and marked the spot. The green target moved away from the X she had drawn. Yes, it was definitely moving. And fast. Too fast for a freighter. She judged the distance between her and the target to be something around ten miles. And shrinking. Maybe a cruise ship would move that fast.

She stood up and pulled herself up the companionway ladder until she could see through the dodger’s windows to the sea ahead. Sca

Riley stared at the radar. They were only about eight miles off now and closing at a speed close to fifteen knots. That meant they were less than thirty minutes away even in this confused sea. And they were on a collision course.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE

Aboard Fast Eddie

March 30, 2008

9:30 p.m.

“Christ, Pinky,” Spyder said. “Can’t you do that over the leeward side for Pete’s sake? The fucking wind is blowing your chum all over my jacket.”

He watched his brother clutching the gu

“Listen Bro,” Spyder yelled towards the back of the red racing jumpsuit his brother wore. They had found a pair of these all weather suits on board the big Donzi race boat, and they had both climbed into them when it had started to rain earlier. “The boat rolls a hell of a lot worse when we slow her down. She don’t pound so bad, but she rolls like a bitch,” he yelled. “That’s what’s making you sick, man.” He had no idea if that was true or not, but Spyder loved opening up those big throaty engines and letting the Fast Eddie show off her stuff. When the boat flew over flat water and he flexed his knees with the motion, it almost felt as good as sex. Almost.

Even with all the noise, Spyder heard the sound of his brother’s retching one more time. He turned away lest the wind carry the vomit into his face.

Here we go again, Spyder thought. When they first took off in the Fast Eddie, his brother had started puking as soon as they’d got out into the cha

That was when Pinky got out the GPS machine again. They seen she was on the other side of the island headed north. Pinky wanted to know how the hell he knew it was her boat and not the doc’s. He told the freak that ain’t no way they’d be going no five knots in that big trawler. So Pinky says, then let’s follow her. Spyder knew for damn sure what would happen if they tried to take that route in the open ocean. Back to the vomiteria.

Then Pinky suggested they could cut her off just as easy at the north end. So they’d headed up the flat, sheltered water on the leeward side of the island. Since he was feeling better, Pinky went below and found some cold beer and packages of crackers and chips. Only once they rounded the point, they’d run into that squall and here they were with Pinky spewing his guts over the side again. Those vinegar potato chips had smelled bad enough the first time around.

Spyder turned the wheel to point the boat into the swells and tilted his head off to one side so the windshield no longer blocked the rain-scented wind from his face. The beaded braids that dangled down either side of his face flew back and fluttered against the side of his head. God he loved how this boat made him feel. He pictured what he’d do to the bitch once he pulled up in this black bomber and got his hands on her. He was go

“Damn,” Pinky said, as he pushed himself up and collapsed into the padded passenger seat.

“‘Bout time,” Spyder said. “You ready to go now?” He was ready to open that sucker up and start pounding those seas.

Pinky’s hand flew out and grabbed Spyder’s forearm. Shit! He had no idea the little freak could squeeze that tight. His long fingernails seemed to be cutting right through the rain jacket.

“Fuck, Pinky. You’re hurting me!”

“Listen,” his brother hissed.

Spyder had to lean in close to that puke face to hear.

“There’s no way we both go

Spyder started to interrupt, but his brother dug those fingernails into him again.

“Jesus, cut it out!” Spyder wailed.

“I said listen. You might be able to do it, but you ain’t leaving me alone on this boat. What we go