Free Deadly Waters by Gloria Skurzynski Page A

watches like that. This guy had a big gold ring, too. And the sunglasses—that kind of sunglasses costs mucho bucks.”
    Olivia frowned. “So why would he steal Jack’s camera?”
    Steven declared, “It doesn’t make sense, that’s for sure. But here’s what I’m thinking. The camera’s gone, and we’re getting some pretty far-out theories being raised around here. So how about if we just quit worrying about it for tonight and enjoy our dinners.”
    Jack tried to study the menu, but his brain was buzzing with everything he’d just heard. All of them were subdued when the food arrived, although Olivia and Steven made an attempt at pleasant conversation.
    â€œI’ve got to get back to the room and do some work,” Olivia announced when she finished eating.
    â€œI’ll walk you back,” Steven told her, “and then I’m going to the one-hour photo lab up the street—it’s open till nine. I want to develop the film I shot today.”
    â€œI want dessert, please,” Ashley announced.
    â€œWhy am I not surprised? What about you two?” Olivia asked Bridger and Jack.
    Bridger nodded, and Jack said, “Sounds good. Dad, I left a roll of film on the dresser in my room. Would you get it and have it developed with yours? Here’s the room key.”
    â€œSure thing. You guys take your time and enjoy your dessert. I’ll pay on the way out, so you can stay as long as you want.”
    The last vestiges of the sunset had faded when the waitress brought Ashley’s chocolate sundae, Bridger’s apple pie à la mode, and Jack’s key lime pie, which the waitress said was the specialty of the house.
    Through the large windows, they looked out at the Everglades City dock. At the far end, a small tour boat was moored, but since it was almost nighttime, all the tours were over until the next day.
    â€œYou want to go back to the motel?” Jack asked when they finished their desserts.
    â€œNot really,” Bridger answered.
    â€œMe neither,” Ashley said.
    Jack looked around the room. “There’s lots of empty tables, so we’re not taking up space, like if someone else was waiting for a table.”
    Bridger nodded. “So?”
    â€œSo let’s talk. Why did that guy take my camera?”
    With the tip of his knife, Bridger drew circles on the tablecloth. “He liked your lens, and he didn’t want to go buy one.”
    â€œLame,” Jack said.
    â€œI know.”
    â€œHe’s a mean psychopath and he hates kids,” Ashley ventured.
    â€œThat’s a lame reason too, Ashley.”
    â€œSo, OK, genius, what do you think’s the reason?”
    Jack shrugged. “I don’t have a clue.”
    With her index finger, Ashley wiped chocolate sauce from the inside of her dish, then licked her finger.
    â€œThat’s gross,” Jack told her.
    â€œNo one’s watching. Besides, who are you anyway, the dessert police? We’re not supposed to waste stuff, and chocolate is a natural resource.” A smile crinkled the edges of her lips as she took another fingerful and stuck it, dripping, into her mouth. “Mmmmm, look, Jack. Yummy. Want some?”
    Jack gave his sister a withering glance.
    Bridger must have thought Jack and Ashley were building up to a real fight—which they weren’t—because he broke in with, “Are you getting your pictures developed ’cause you took one of Gordon and his boat?” Bridger asked Jack.
    He shook his head. “Wish I had. I was just snapping birds.”
    Bridger stretched out his long legs and sighed. He was wearing that faraway look again.
    â€œWhat are you thinking about?” Jack asked him.
    â€œHome in Montana. My dad in the hospital. Why I’m wasting time here with you.”
    The words stung Jack, but he kept his voice Iguarded. “Wasting?”
    â€œI didn’t mean it that way. Guess