“Late night, Arthur,” Bill called out as the boat drifted toward its slip. The old man stepped down onto the floating dock, waiting to help catch the line. “I was about to radio you. Usually, you’re in before the sun drops.”
Arthur tossed the rope with a forced grin, his heart hammering against his ribs. “Ran into a snag with the net,” he replied, his voice sounding thinner than he liked. “Took me a couple of hours just to pry it loose from the reef.” Bill looped the line around the cleat and looked past Arthur, his eyes roaming over the deck of the Silver Wake. They lingered for a second too long on the lumpy, tarp-covered shape sitting by the stern.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, son,” Bill added, stepping a little closer to the gunwale. “The sea give you a scare out there?”