The Stranger in the Lifeboat by Mitch Albom

form.
    â€œFill this out,” she said flatly.
    â€œI’ll pay cash.”
    She put the form away.
    â€œAlso, do you have any paper towels?”
    A few minutes later, LeFleur was inside a simple room with a double bed, a desk, a lamp, a floor fan, and some magazines atop a mini fridge. He went into the bathroom, ran water in the tub, then removed the notebook from the plastic bag. He ran the notebook gently through the water, just once, to remove dirt and dissolve the salt that was binding the pages together. Then he laid the notebook on one towel and patted it with another. He slid paper towelsin between some pages and pressed down. After a few minutes, he was able to separate the cover and reread the opening sentences:
    When we pulled him from the water, he didn’t have a scratch on him. That’s the first thing I noticed. The rest of us were all gashes and bruises, but he was unmarked.
    Who was this stranger, LeFleur wondered? He glanced at his watch and realized how long Rom had been waiting. The last thing he needed was that guy to grow suspicious.
    He placed the notebook upright on the desk, then pulled the floor fan over to help dry the pages. He hurried out, locking the door behind him.
    At the restaurant, LeFleur saw Rom at a corner table, with a glass of ice water in front of him.
    â€œDid you find what you were looking for, Inspector?”
    LeFleur swallowed. “What?”
    â€œThe bathroom?”
    â€œOh, yeah. Found it.”
    He grabbed the menu. “Let’s eat.”

Sea
    It is dawn, Annabelle. I haven’t slept. I’ve been waiting for enough sunlight to write you again. I remain haunted by the death of Mrs. Laghari, and there is no one here that I can speak to about it. Not the way I can speak to you.
    I’ve been thinking about a memory; it comes to me vividly now. A few days ago, I had dozed off, and when I opened my eyes, I saw Mrs. Laghari combing little Alice’s hair with her fingers. She did it gently, unhurried, and Alice seemed to revel in the human contact. The old woman straightened the little girl’s bangs. She licked her fingertips and pressed them across Alice’s eyebrows. Finally, she tapped the girl’s shoulders as if to say “All good,” and Alice leaned in and hugged her.
    Now Mrs. Laghari is gone. We are nine people left in theraft. Even as I write the words, I cannot believe it. What’s happening to us?
    * * *
    I realize I haven’t written about how Mrs. Laghari or Alice or any of the others wound up in the raft the night the Galaxy went down. The truth is, I don’t remember much. I was so exhausted after pulling myself in that I must have blacked out. When I came to, I was on my back, and I felt someone tapping my face. I blinked my eyes to see a short-haired woman staring at me.
    â€œDid you set the sea anchors?” Geri said.
    It was surreal, the question, the setting, her face, the faces of people behind her, barely lit by the hazy moonlight. I recognized Jean Philippe and Nina from the staff. The others were so wet and terrified-looking, I couldn’t place them. My mouth hung open and I turned my head as if looking at a dream.
    â€œSea anchors?” Geri repeated.
    I shook my head no, and she quickly moved away. I saw her rifling through the ditch bag as the others helped to sit me up. That’s when I realized there were eight of us: Yannis, Nevin, Mrs. Laghari, Nina, Geri, Jean Philippe, Bernadette—who was lying under the canopy, her head bandaged—and me.
    Geri found the sea anchors, two small yellow fabricparachutes, and she threw them in the water and tied them through grommets on the raft.
    â€œThese will slow us down so they can find us,” she said. “But we already drifted a lot.”
    Nina was crying. “Does anyone know we’re out here?”
    â€œThe yacht must have sent distress signals. We just have to wait.”
    â€œWait for what?” Mrs.