Free The Girl on the Yacht by Thomas Donahue, Karen Donahue Page A

right,” the doctor responded.
    John slid in behind the bar. “I’m going to have a drink. Dan, do you want one?”
    “None for me,” Dan said.
    “Marin?”
    She shook her head.
    John tilted the crystal decanter and poured out a few jiggers of aged Scotch. After he put down the bottle, he picked up the glass and chugged the contents. Without setting the glass down, John poured another.
    Marin looked on and the thoughts of John’s alcoholic father came to the forefront. She felt the magnified multiple emotions of anger, fear, worry, and helplessness that had coupled themselves with the day’s events. “John. . . .” She stopped herself and glanced over at Dan. She pulled three bottles of water from the refrigerator—put one in front of Dan, handed one to John, and offered the third to the doctor, tech, and Cameron—no takers.
    “Thanks.” A traumatized Dan looked up at her and gave her a forced, painful smile. “My phone’s waterlogged. May I use yours to call my sister? I need to have her take me to her house nearby.”
    “We’ll call her. You just take it easy for a few minutes.” John had picked up on Marin’s gentle nudge with the bottle of water and poured his half full glass of scotch down the drain. John picked up his phone from the counter and waited to dial.
    “Who would want to hurt Laura?” Dan asked.
    “Dan, what’s Lindsey’s number?” John asked.
    He rattled it off.
    John dialed. “Lindsey. It’s John Hunter over at the marina.” He listened for a few moments. “Laura died this morning.” He glanced over at his friend. “Lindsey, he’s devastated.” There was a pause. “No, we’ll bring Dan to your house. You can’t get near the marina—the police have sealed off the docks,” he said in his strongest tone. “Dan doesn’t need to be around here. We’ll bring him to you. We’re leaving, now.”
    With Bailey on leash, Marin stepped from the boat to the dock. The salt air tasted bitter, and the bright summer day chilled her face.

Chapter 14
     
     
Blue Water Marina, Newport Beach
     
    After dropping Dan off up the coast at his sister’s house in Huntington Beach, Marin and John pulled into the Blue Water Marina and parked. He turned the ignition key, and a harsh stillness settled over the Maserati. Marin sat, wordless, staring out the windshield at the docks, the boats, and the gloomy police presence. John put his arm over her shoulder, and it felt soothing.
    “Not very good first days at your new marina for you and Bay, huh?”
    She snuggled a little closer on his comforting shoulder.
    Bailey moved her head slightly on the back seat to keep an eye on her mommy.
    “I don’t really want to go back down there right now.” She scanned the tops of the boats in their low tide stalls.
    “Yeah,” he rubbed her neck and then reached for the door handle, “but, maybe we can be of some help to your friend, Cameron. Let’s go in and see what we can do.”
    They walked up to the black-iron gate where a young Newport Beach police officer stood guard. He advanced as they approached, left hand on his holstered pistol, and his right raised into the air space in front of them. “This is a crime scene—no one enters without authorization.”
    “We’re boat owners—E-28 and E-34.” John reached into his pocket, and the neophyte tensed. “It’s my ID. Take it easy.” He held his wallet open in front of the man.
    “It’s my first murder.” The officer stood steadfast. “I have my orders. No one enters.”
    Marin removed her Sheriff Department ID. “I’m working with Cameron West.”
    He examined John’s driver’s license and Marin’s consultant identification. He pressed the button on his shoulder microphone. “There’s a Marin Ryan and John Hunter at the gate.”
    “Let them in,” Cameron’s voice came over the speaker.
    “Ten-four.” He opened the gate and allowed them to pass.
    “Relax, it probably won’t be your last murder in your line of work,” John