“The IRS is being handled,” Sol repeated. “As I informed you and all other family members. In any number of documents. Do be sure and let me know which I should resend.”
Auburn smirked. “So many documents. So little time.”
“Ms. Greaves is here as a courtesy. One that may save your life.”
“Whatever.” He rose to his feet. “Are we done?”
CHAPTER35
Noah spoke just once on the drive from Santa Barbara to Morro Bay, and it was to say, “Sol called me last night. He wanted to make sure I knew what I was doing, giving the families five percent.”
“Five percent each,” she replied.
“Right. I told him it was the correct thing to do.”
“What did he say to that?”
“Same as when I said you were to receive half plus the extra two percent.” When he glanced over, Jenna thought she could see the glimmer of a smile in his gaze. “He hoped I was absolutely certain, because there was no way I could retract the step once I took it.”
“That sounds like Sol.”
He nodded. “I told him nothing I’d done in a long time felt this good.”
The silence carried a comfortable note. Jenna started to speak several times, but nothing seemed as valid as reaching over and settling a hand on his shoulder.
As they wound their way around San Lu and took the road heading toward Morro Bay, Jenna found herself thinking back to her time with patients. Not any particular individual. All of them. Their faces fashioned a mental parade beyond the sunlit windshield. Their whispers drifted on the breeze through her open window.
Warning without words.
She knew the message. She saw it in their gazes. The tomorrow they would never have. The opportunity that was hers. Now. This very hour. The moment that came only once, and then was forever gone.
Jenna waited until they parked to ask, “What exactly are we doing here?”
“It’s probably a waste of time,” Noah replied. “But I’d like to see if we can help Wallace find a way out.”
“Out of what, exactly?”
“I have no idea.” He opened his door. “And it really doesn’t matter.”
She followed him across the almost-empty lot. “That almost makes sense.”
The boatyard was surrounded by a rusting hurricane fence. The wide main gates were shut for the first time Jenna had ever seen. A makeshiftCLOSEDsign rattled in the hot breeze. Noah glanced around, then gestured for Jenna to step away. Three men walked up carrying fishing rods and coolers. They coded in a combination to the lock and slid the gates open. Noah followed them through and started across the silent yard.
In answer to her unspoken question, Noah said, “Wallace said he keeps a boat. I just wanted to check.”
The forty-foot Hatteras was moored at the end of the pier farthest to the left. The boat’s name,Quick Getaway, made a mockery of its silent state. Noah pointed to the shadow-figure shifting around inside, then called, “Wallace, it’s Noah and Jenna.”
“Go away.”
“We want to help.”
“That’s simple enough. Sell Lane the boat.”
“Can we come on board?”
A long silence, then, “It won’t do any good.”
Noah took that as their invitation and helped Jenna on board. He crossed the deck, knocked once, and stepped inside.
