“Where are you hearing all of this?”
“From some buddies near the port they set out from. There should be a logbook listing all the names of the passengers, but it’s sounding like they didn’t really do things aboveboard if you know what I mean.”
She blew across the top of her mug before taking that first calming sip. “And why would that be?”
“My best guess is they weren’t planning to just fish for typical seabass. That they were going for something a little riskier and more controversial. Maybe something like a great white shark. You know, kind of like the guys that pay all heaps of money to go on safari to kill a lion or other exotic creature, just because they can.”
“People do that here? In the ocean?”
“It’s not common, and it’s not talked about much. But it would make sense of why there’s little information about this particular excursion. And why the boating company is being so tightlipped about it all. It’s not illegal to fish for sharks, but itisillegal to hunt a great white.”
Camille didn’t like the thought ofanyonebeing lost at sea, but she also couldn’t stomach the notion that someone would hunt an endangered animal purely for thrill and sport. It made her gut churn. “Would any of this have to do with their vessel going missing? You don’t think there’s something nefarious going on, do you?”
“Maybe, maybe not. The fact that they weren’t doing things right from the get-go makes me think they might’ve cut someother corners, too. Who knows? I don’t agree with their practices, but I do hope to God they make it home safely. No one deserves the fate of a watery grave.”
She knew that better than anyone, and the moment Skip uttered the words, he recognized his unintended blunder.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Millie. I’d forgotten the sea took your parents, too. Not trying to be insensitive at all. I hope you know that.”
“You’re not.” She knew Skip’s heart and intentions well. “And I agree with you. Let’s just hope these men are found before this storm kicks into full gear and search parties have to pull out. At that point, all they’ll have left to save them are their prayers.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Edie hadn’t picked up her camera in over a week.
Even now as she held it in her hands, it felt unfamiliar and bulky. Cumbersome, like a weight dragging her down.
Where had that creative energy gone? Honestly, she’d been too tired to harness any of it, too exhausted from the countless hours she’d spent organizing this gala. She was depleted and wasn’t sure how to regain any of that lost energy and drive. It was nowhere to be found.
Back when Josh had originally told her about the fundraising project, she’d been all in. It was an exciting opportunity that she might not otherwise have the chance to participate in. Josh had connections, and she was beyond grateful for them.
But it hadn’t occurred to her that a brand-new venue hosting their very first gala—without their own dedicated project manager—would be an enormous amount of work. She wasn’t so sure she would have volunteered had she known the sheer number of hours they would need to dedicate to the endeavor. And it wasn’t like she would even feel good about being paid considering the ultimate goal behind the entire event was to raise money for charity.
But she needed to start being compensated financially in one way or another.
Her stint at the aquarium had come to an end. She had provided them with all the images they would need for their new marketing campaign and finished up that contract last month. Every once in a while, she would stop in to visit with her friends that still worked there, or to sit near the jellyfish exhibit—her favorite—just to relax to the pulsing sway of the languid creatures.
But she no longer had a job with a consistent income, and with a new house and all of the bills that came along with that, she needed to find something that could generate some extra cash.
Photography was it. Every egg was in that basket.
But as she stood in her family room, angled her camera toward her window and pressed her eye to the viewfinder, she couldn’t find focus. It was all a blur with nothing to grab her attention.
And yet, there always was one tried and true source of inspiration.
She pulled her cellphone from her back pocket and punched out a text.
Cal responded immediately.
Camille would have her head if she knew Edie planned to drive over to Cal’s art gallery. She’d given strict lockdown orders. But Edie was a grown woman for heaven’s sake, and if she wanted to venture out in the storm, that was her prerogative.
Plus, today’s forecast was much of the same: inches of rain with thirty to forty-mile an hour winds. A large storm by any measurement, but not what they’d been predicting. That was supposed to change come nightfall, so in the meantime, Edie decided not to squander the day while things were currently still manageable weather-wise.
She grabbed her keys, her camera, and a little bit of courage and drove to Cal’s art studio.
It wasn’t too far from the beach houses, and the drive was just up Highway 1, taking her along the curve of the coast. From her periphery, she could see the large expanse of dark ocean, its gray-blue hue deeper, richer, with frothy swells that whitecapped its surface. Usually, there were rows of surfers vying for the perfect pipeline wave, but today, the waves didn’t have a consistent, chaseable rhythm. Just chaotic colliding and pummeling against the rocks and sand. It seemed like even the ocean was out of sorts, and that made Edie’s stomach churn.
As she put her car in park after pulling up to The Dock, she drew in a breath. Was it a mistake to come here? Maybe, but she didn’t know where else to look. She’d tried to summon some creativity for far too long on her own and came up empty at every turn. It was time to look elsewhere.
