“Coffee?” Cabot asked.
“Still have mine.”
“Farrow?”
“I’m good.”
Cabot moved to the rail. Farrow sat beside me on the bench, his hip against mine. The horn sounded twice over our heads, and the engines growled.
The ferry pulled away from the dock. The water went from black to slate to a deeper gray as we cleared the harbor mouth. Edgartown receded from view: the white houses and the lighthouse.
A gull landed on the rail four feet from Cabot’s elbow, looked at us, and lifted off.
I drank my coffee.
“Farrow,” Cabot said without turning around. “What’s the plan when you reach Brattle?”
“Köhler ships out at noon. Then we figure out the rest of the day.”
“And after that?”
“Brattle for a few more days while Dane heals. Then home.”
Cabot didn’t turn. A long line of seabirds was working the wake of a fishing boat off the starboard side.
“Good,” he said.
My right hand was palm-down on the bench between us. Farrow rested his hand on top of mine.
He didn’t look at me. He kept his eyes forward and slowly laced his fingers together with mine, settling between my knuckles.
Cabot didn’t turn around. The gull had come back and was standing on the rail next to him, picking at something on the metal. Cabot watched it as though it were the most interesting thing on the boat.
The forty-five minutes of the crossing went faster than I thought it would. When the Cape rose out of the water ahead of us, Cabot turned around.
“Woods Hole in fifteen. Rental’s in the lot. We’ll be at Brattle by eleven-fifteen if the Pike doesn’t do anything stupid.”
“Köhler at noon,” Farrow said.
“I’ll drive,” Cabot said. “Both of you should sleep if you can.”
Farrow squeezed my hand once.
The ferry sailed a long arc into the slip at Woods Hole, and the gulls took flight from the pilings in a single wheeling cloud. The horn sounded once over our heads, and the engines shifted to idle.
***
Cabot pulled into the Brattle drive at eleven-fourteen.
The federal vehicle wasn’t there yet. The only other vehicle was Reed’s SUV.
“Made it,” Cabot said.
He killed the engine. I worked my way out of the passenger seat, and Farrow handed me the crutches. Cabot took the bags out of the trunk.
Wiley was at the side door waiting for us.
He opened the door wide with one hand and was already reaching for Cabot’s bag with the other. He didn’t say hello.