Free Seawitch by Kat Richardson Page A

from logic. That doesn’t mean it’s not true and that he wouldn’t have—or hadn’t—given us useful information that would lead to someone who has an interest in keeping the truth of whatever happened aboard
Seawitch
quiet, whether the explanation is paranormal or not. That is, if you believe all I’ve told you and shown you and that I saw someone or something that frightened Reeve nearly to death.”
    “I do believe that Reeve was frightened and I apologize for blaming you. I am . . . struggling with the rest.”
    “There
was
something in the bushes and there is or has been something uncanny on that boat.”
    “Perhaps. Can we stick to that which is provable in the world
I
inhabit for a while longer?”
    “I live here, too, Solis. I understand the problem of legal and material proof. Believe me, there aren’t many people who have the fine grasp of this problem that I do.”
    “Yes, I concede! But someone brought the boat to port and abandoned it,” he thought aloud. “Someone of flesh and blood, not a ghost.”
    “Don’t be too sure,” I muttered, but realistically I knew that ghosts didn’t have the physical power to move something like the
Seawitch
.
    He glared at me but ignored my jibe to say, “Someone wants this investigation to happen. . . .”
    “And someone else doesn’t. Someone skilled brought that boat back to port—it didn’t drift in and it wasn’t brought in by a novice. Someone good at keeping secrets hid it for twenty-seven years. It’s possible they’re the same person, but I’m not sure of that.”
    “Do you suggest that one of the crew or passengers is still alive?”
    “I am not suggesting anything except that there are still living people to question. And when we run out of the living, I may have to start on the dead, whether you like it or not.”
    Solis grunted again. “Let us start first with the log book—with the
normal
evidence. If Starrett was the hedonist his wife described, he may have written revealing and personal notes as well as maintenance records and the names of the marinas they stopped in.”
    It was my turn to snort in derision. “Reeve would have been the one to write the actual records. If Starrett were writing it, I imagine that book reads like excerpts from letters to
Playboy
.”
    “At least it is unlikely to read like a Stephen King novel,” he snapped, and that surprised me more than anything else I had seen or heard that day. He was deeply unsettled and it made neither of us happy.
    And I had no choice but to make it worse. “You’re going to have to get used to the creepy factor, Solis,” I said. “Because we’re hip-deep in it.”

SIX
    I got back to my condo about six thirty. The trip had been short once traffic cleared and there hadn’t been any point in lingering or stopping elsewhere. I’d type up my notes for the insurance company later; I’d been on the job for only twenty-four hours officially and they didn’t require a report so soon.
    I didn’t see any sign of Quinton when I came in so I assumed he was busy elsewhere. We’re a couple but we don’t spend every free moment together, not least because we both have strange jobs, dangerous associates, and eccentric habits. Two born loners living—mostly—together requires a degree of laissez-faire most people haven’t got. I took off my boots and hid them in the hall closet to save them from possible predation by the ferret. Then I flipped on the TV to the first channel I found running a nature documentary and let Chaos out of her cage for a romp around the living room. Chaos loves nature shows, except for any part of Shark Week, which I think demonstrates a lot more common sense than I’d normally credit to a furry mammal the size of a sneaker who looks like an animated kneesock with teeth.
    I was staring into the fridge and wondering why I never seem to have any food in the place when I got a whiff of an unpleasant odor that wasn’t coming from the icebox. A cold