Ransom at Sea by Fred Hunter

of the boat and the purr of the engine. As the captain had promised, although they were a fair distance out in the lake they were not out of view of the shoreline, and it wasn’t long before it developed a dreamy sameness. That, along with the quiet of the nearly deserted deck, soon lulled Emily to sleep.
    She wasn’t sure how long it had been when something broke in on her sleep. Through half-opened eyes she looked out across the water at the shoreline, which seemed closer than it had been. She had the disquieting, illusory sense that the shoreline itself was moving slowly to the right while the boat sped to the left, as if they were not parallel, but rather turning on the same axis.
    Into this image came a woman’s voice.
    â€œIt wasn’t there,” the voice said in a whisper. Emily couldn’t decide whether or not the voice was anxious or angry. “I’m telling you it wasn’t there! Of course I looked!”
    Another voice seemed to say something, and in her half-waking state Emily strained to hear it, but couldn’t.
    â€œYou’ve lied to me before!” said the woman.
    Emily couldn’t make out to whom either of the voices belonged. She tried to turn around to see who it was, but found herself riveted in place, unable to command her head to turn or her limbs to move. She struggled against herself, exerting a monumental effort, but couldn’t budge. Knowledge of her paralysis caused a momentary and highly uncharacteristic shock of fear to race through her heart. But the panic brought with it the sudden awareness that she was dreaming, the knowledge of which caused her to quiet down. A feeling of peace overcame her, and she began to drift out of the dream. As the scene dimmed, she heard the woman’s voice say, “All right! I know I have to find it … but if you’re lying—Wait!”
    Footsteps could be heard coming up the metal stairs.
    â€œEmily?”
    The old woman opened her eyes and found herself shielded from the sun by the bulky shadow of Bertram Driscoll.
    She cleared her throat gently. “Yes?”
    â€œSorry. I didn’t like to wake you, but you were all frowny. You looked like you were having a troubled sleep, there.”
    Emily twisted around in her seat and looked over its back. Claudia Trenton was still seated on the opposite side of the deck, as she had been when Emily dozed off, and was now apparently asleep herself. She was also quite alone.
    Emily turned back to Driscoll. “Mr. Driscoll, may I ask … did you just come up onto the deck?”
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    â€œDid you see anyone else here?”
    â€œNope. Just you. And the Trenton woman.”
    Emily’s brows knit closely together, and her mouth pursed into a tiny O.
    â€œIs something wrong?”
    She relaxed and smiled at him. “No. Not at all. Thank you for waking me. I was having a rather bad dream.”
    â€œI can’t imagine a fine woman like you having anything to cause you nightmares.”
    â€œOn the contrary. At my age I’ve seen enough of life to have very bad dreams. Fortunately, I don’t usually.”
    Driscoll straightened a chair beside her and carelessly lowered himself onto it. “Must be being out on the water that makes people so sleepy. I dropped off myself, earlier on, before lunch.”
    â€œYes, I know.”
    â€œOr boredom,” he added incomprehensibly.
    â€œI beg your pardon?”
    â€œBoredom. That makes you drop off, you know. I do that at home—fall asleep in front of the TV set more often than not, right in the middle of the day, now that I’m retired.”
    His face was turned toward her, and out of the corner of her eye she could see the eagerness in his florid features. She sought to deflect him.
    â€œYou were a salesman, weren’t you?”
    He nodded. “Medical supplies. Don’t get me started on sales! You get me talking about business, and