Deeper by Moore-JamesA

for just a moment she smiled brightly, an excited, almost
hyperactive grin that she shut down as soon as it showed itself.   Kind of a pity, really,
because she had a nice smile.
    "So, you
actually held this girl when you carried her on board?"
    I resisted the
urge to ask if I was supposed to carry her up by her hair.   "Yeah, I've still got the wet clothes if
you want to check them out."
    "No,
that's okay."   She chuckled, which
was good, because I sure as hell didn't want to go rummaging through my dirty
laundry.   "Can you describe
her?"
    "Looked
like mid-teens, fourteen or fifteen, with dark blond hair, pale skin, might
have been five-foot-four or so, tops.   She was a little thing."
    "You said
her clothes were archaic?"
    "Old-fashioned, yeah.   Like they belonged at the turn of the century, maybe
even a little earlier."
    "You said
she was cold?"
    "Well,
yeah, but she'd been in the water for a while before I even spotted her.   I'm surprised she held on as long as she did
before we got to her."
    "Did she
say anything?   Make any noises at
all?"
    I had to think
about that.   "No."   The notion made me frown; I hadn't been
thinking about much of anything but pulling her from the water and how damned
cold she felt.   Reflecting on it, I
hadn't heard her so much as breathing, but I hadn't been aware of the absence
during all the chaos.   "No I don't
think she did."   But she had to have
been breathing, didn't she?   I mean, I'd
carried her up the damned ladder.   I'd
felt her moving against me, holding on to me as I scaled the side of the Isabella .
    Mary looked at
her husband and nodded.   Jacob leaned
back on the railing and smiled at her.   I
got the feeling there was something they weren't telling me.
    "How long
were you gone before she disappeared?"
    "Maybe a minute, tops.   I was
in a hurry when I got the blankets."   I shrugged.   "Charlie was
right there next to her and I don't figure he looked away for more than a few
seconds."
    "Can you
describe her face?"
    "Not a
chance.   All I saw was hair and wet
clothes."
    "What do
you think happened to her?"   I tried
to read her face, to get an idea of what sort of answer she wanted, but at that
moment the light was gone and all I saw was an expressionless face that would
have made most poker players sweat bullets.
    "Honestly?   I don't know.   If I thought ghosts could touch you, I'd say maybe she was a
ghost."
    Mary looked
away from me and crossed her arms over her chest.   There was a chill in the air, but she was
wearing a nice, thick sweater and the rising sun was finally getting around to
warming the world around us.
    "Oh, some
of them can touch you, Captain Joe.   Some
of them can do more than just touch."
    Part of me
wanted to ask her what she meant.   I
gagged that part quickly.   Not because I
was afraid of offending either of the people I was dealing with, but because I
was pretty sure I didn't want to know what else a ghost could do.
    "I
thought ghosts were supposed to be floating white sheets or little spots of
light on film."   I was trying to
lighten the moment, but it didn't work.
    Jacob looked
my way and pitched his cigarette butt over the side of the yacht.   That sad sack face of his scolded me with an
expression as his wife seemed to almost collapse in on herself.   Then he went over to his wife and put an arm
around her.   They still looked mismatched,
like he should have been her uncle maybe, but not her husband.
    I stayed where
I was and watched them walk away, feeling like I should apologize and having
absolutely no idea why.

     
    *           *           *           *           *

     
    When in doubt,
fish.   The few people still on the Isabella were busy doing their own
things, and I decided to see if there was anything worth catching in the cove.
    I don't sport
fish.   I eat what I catch, as long as it
looks edible.   I spent the better part of
the afternoon reeling in a bluefish