Page 37 of Amnesty

“Yes, well…” Maggie agreed. “Exactly why you should take the boat.”

“Thank you,” I said sincerely. Eddie echoed my sentiments.

“Of course. If you are hell bent on doing this, then at least I can be supportive.”

My chair made a sound when it scraped back from the table. I rushed over and threw my arms around Maggie.

She hugged me back with a chuckle. “Don’t hug me yet. I have a condition.”

“What is it?” I asked, pulling back.

“I want to see you both here for dinner. I will want details and to see with my own two eyes you’re okay.”

“Deal,” Eddie said, punctuating it with a huge bite.

I didn’t bother to sit back down. I was too nervous, too jittery. Instead, I paced in front of the windows, barely able to admire the view.

A second later, Eddie stood from the table. “I think if we don’t go soon, her head may combust.”

I laughed nervously. “I can’t help it.”

“Please be careful.” Maggie cautioned.

“I’ll take care of her,” Eddie vowed as he pocketed the boat keys.

“Do you remember where our dock is?” she asked.

“I remember.” Eddie held out his hand for me, and I went to his side.

Finally,finally,we were on our way.

I understood why Amnesia wanted to go to Rumor Island. Hell, even I was curious about the place. Staring at it from shore my entire life, and more specifically the past eleven years, only built it up in my mind.

But fuck. This was stupid.

I was doing it, though.Wewere doing it.

Closure. To me, that’s what this was about. For her. Not for me. Seemed the closure I sought all these years wasn’t really needed anymore.

That made me feel guilty. But also, it made me feel relieved.

I didn’t know what that light we saw out there was, but honestly, it seemed like a long shot it was the man who kidnapped her. Who would be stupid enough to hang around? It was like asking for a prison sentence.

Or a grave.

I was a fan of the second option. Rotting away with the worms almost seemed too good for that motherfucker, but hey, I’d take it.

The water was calm today, moving gently with the current, no sign of a storm or even a disturbance in the near future. It was the kind of day fishermen loved, and there were quite a few out on the water.

Chris’s boat was docked at a local boat slip, where a lot of people here at Lake Loch kept their boats. There were also rentals available for those here on vacation. Maggie’s late husband had a nice slip. It was covered, a luxury very few here had. The “boat garage” looked like a little wooden shack on the end of a dock. The wooden shingles on the sides went down until they nearly skimmed the surface of the lake.

When Maggie said she had the boat maintained with tune-ups, I figured I would find it in usable shape.

Maggie lied.

It wasn’t just maintained. It was perfection. Far beyond just “usable” shape.

It was clear how much she loved her husband, because his boat still looked brand new. Knowing Maggie, it was one last thing she could do for him even in death.

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