Page 22 of Deep Waters

“So, I’ll see you at the dock in the morning. Say eight o’clock?”

“I’ll be there. I’ll bring the coffees.”

Harry shook his head. “No. That’s my job. All part of the service. Decaf, right?”

“Hey, you know me already.”

“I’m learning.” He pulled away, moving to his front door. “Have a good night. Say hi to the guys for me.”

“I will. Good night.”

The path and steps up to the north cliff were steep, winding around hairpin bends. Any other time, Christian might have made hard work of it, but tonight, he ascended in an effortless stride. His forty-two-year-old body felt light, and more agile than it had at twenty-one. He’d bought two bottles of wine at the hotel and they clinked together in the bag as he bounced up the steps. He paused at the top to inhale the fresh air, drawing it deep into his lungs. He exhaled, taking in the view from the cliff top.

Was there a more beautiful place in the whole world? Not this evening.

He hadn’t appreciated from below how steep the valley Nyemouth nestled in was. The river was a black mirror, so far down, reflecting the lights of the town on its near-perfect surface. It was hard to grasp how wild the conditions had been twenty-four hours earlier. The winds had been so severe that he doubted he would have been able to stand on the spot where he was now without being blown over.

The two lighthouses at the ends of each pier flashed their gentle warning out to sea, but there was no danger tonight. For one moment, Christian could almost forget what had happened since he had arrived here—but not for long. His gaze was drawn across the water, to the south pier. It was too far to make out much detail, but it looked as though the police forensic unit had gone. The journalist in him couldn’t help wondering what they had discovered, if anything. It still seemed likely that the storm would have carried away all evidence.

With a sigh, he turned away from the cliff and set off in search of Dominic’s house.

It wasn’t hard to find. Cliff House stood out on the point, even at night. A grand old stone building, it had to be at least two-hundred years old.

Christian rang the bell. There was a flash of movement through the frosted glass and the door was answered by a young boy, who looked around twelve but tall for his age. He was unseasonably dressed in a Spider-Man T-shirt and shorts, with bare feet.

“Hi,” the boy said. “They’re waiting for you in the kitchen. Come through.”

“You must be AJ,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

The boy smiled, and it struck Christian just how much the young man looked like his famous father, Arnie. He was already shooting up to match his father’s huge frame. He had the same dark-blond hair and pale blue eyes. “Yeah, I am. Have you recovered from your trip yesterday? I was watching. I saw your boat coming in from the window upstairs. I can see all the way out from up there.” His eyes were wide with child-like ghoulish excitement.

Christian widened his stance and made an exaggerated show of steading himself. “I think I’ve just about got used to dry land again.”

“It did look rough. Were you worried the boat might capsize?”

He laughed. “I never even thought of it. But now you’ve put the idea in my head…”

“Oh, that hardly ever happens,” AJ said matter-of-factly. “We’ve lived here for over two years now and I’ve never seen it. Neither has Dominic, and he’s been here for much longer.”

“Now, I’m reassured,” he said.

AJ led him through the house to a large open-plan kitchen and dining room. “Here they are,” he said.

Dominic was busy at the stove. Like AJ, he was barefoot, in knee length denim shorts and a dark polo shirt, with an apron tied around him. He was busy stirring something in a pot. He grinned at Christian over his shoulder. “Hey. Won’t be a minute.”

Arnie, similarly dressed in shorts and a light shirt, closed the fridge door. Christian realised how warm the house was. He would hate to have these guys’ fuel bill. Though they had only met once before, Arnie came in and greeted him with a friendly hug. Christian had always considered himself tall at six-one, but he felt dwarfed by Dominic’s hunky husband. As Dominic was also a good few inches shorter than Christian, they were a mismatched and yet perfectly suited pair.

“Great to see you again,” Arnie said. “I’m so glad Dominic talked you into visiting. Though I bet you didn’t expect our little town to be quite so eventful, eh?”

“That’s no understatement.” Christian raised his bag of wine bottles. “I wasn’t sure what you guys were into, so I got a red and a white.”

“We drink anything,” Dominic said, wiping his hands on his apron and coming over for another welcome hug.

“Ha ha. I thought as much, but didn’t like to presume.”

“Fancy a cocktail before dinner?” Arnie asked, returning to the fridge.

“What’s on offer?”

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