the Boston Globe, probably waiting for the New York Times delivery before the first three a.m. crossing to Oak Bluffs.
“Captain? I’m Alex Cooper. This is Mike Chapman. What’ll it take to hire you for an emergency run?”
To my surprise, when the captain’s head picked up, I could see she was a young woman.
“Emergency?” she said, dropping the paper and getting to her feet. “To the Vineyard?”
“No, no. To Penikese?”
“At two in the morning?”
Mike took over. His charm might work faster with the attractive boater. “Look, Miss ...”
“Lynch. Maggie Rubey Lynch.”
“Give me that newspaper, Maggie.”
She picked up her copy of the early edition of the Globe and handed it to Mike.
“See this bastard?” he said, pointing to the head shot of Zukov that was on top of the fold of the morning news. “We’re thinking he’s over on Penikese, and he’s likely to kill the girl who’s with him unless you can get us there. Just a drop-off. You just put us on the rock and head back to port. That’s all we’re asking.”
She didn’t flinch for a second. “Let’s go. It’s kind of rough out there. I need you to sit down, okay?”
“Whatever you say.”
I guessed Maggie to be about thirty years old. She had platinum hair, from the wisps that had slipped out beneath her cap, bright blue eyes, and an easy smile. But she also had the complete confidence of someone who had probably spent her entire life on the water, as evidenced by each of the steps she took to release the lines, raise the bumpers, and ease the Patriot out of its slip.
Mike got on his cell and again called the lieutenant. The reception was patchy, but it would be his last chance to reach out to anyone. The up-island half of the Vineyard had no cell service, so I knew that Penikese would be a dead zone too.
“Where’s the frigging Coast Guard, Loo? I can’t hear you,” Mike said, shouting over the noise of the engines. “I know there was an accident. We’re on our way to this leper colony, you got that? Call the Navy, call the Marines. I don’t give a shit what you have to do, but we need—hello? Hello?”
“You’re talking to the wind out here,” Maggie said.
“You got that right.”
“We’re into the bay now. It’s going to get bumpy.”
The water was practically black. The boat heaved in the waves and tossed us from side to side. Maggie held on to the wheel, keeping an eye on the radar and GPS to guide us toward our destination. I knew the moon was almost full, but fog had blanketed Buzzards Bay and it was impossible to see the heavens.
“What’s your plan?” I asked Mike.
“I’m working on one.”
He was a nervous flier, and I worried that motion sickness might overcome him on this short ride.
“Are you queasy?”
“It’s not like a plane that’s going to fall out of the sky on me, Coop. These are just bumps in the road.” He was trying to convince himself that was true.
The waves came at us hard. “I’m counting on you for a plan. It’ll take your mind off your stomach.”
“Just watching the captain calms me.”
Maggie smiled at him. “This is nothing. They’re predicting six-foot swells later this week.”
“Where are you able to put us off?”
“You know Penikese?” she asked me.
“I haven’t been in years.”
“It’s pretty uninhabitable. A few primitive buildings the school maintains, but they’re completely shut down ’cause next weekend is Easter. I picked a teacher up about two weeks ago. There’s a jetty on the eastern end. If the rip doesn’t smash me up on it, it’s the best place to let you go.”
“Can you try for something a little more optimistic?” Mike asked.
Maggie flashed a big, pretty smile. “Hey, I can be as upbeat as the next guy, but there’s not much hope on Penikese. You sure you don’t want me to wait for you?”
Mike was clutching the rim of the life preserver that was mounted on the wall behind his bench. “What I’d really like you to do is play Paul Revere for us. Hightail it back to base and raise an armada for me. Come back with any able-bodied seamen you can find. You’ll get extra credit if they bring weapons.”
“That’s a deal, Detective,” she said. “We’re half a mile out. You get ready to offload.”
I stood up and steadied myself by holding on to the metal rails above my head. The color had drained from Mike’s face. I thought he was