Chapter 23

HOPE STILL CARRIEDthe hammer with her in Jenny’s cream Louis Vuitton handbag. She supposed she’d have to get rid of that, too. She was dreaming as she wandered along mooring number 17 and almost ran into the overweight man with the clipboard standing there.

“Oh! Sorry!”

“It’s all right.” He laughed. His name tag said STEVE. “Is this your yacht here?”

“Yes, it is, actually.” Hope smiled. “It’s just come out of dry dock. I signed in at the office.”

“Yes, yes, that’s all good.” Steve glanced at his clipboard. “I’m actually just doing a safety inspection. The coastguard makes us do spot checks now and then on all the moorings.”

“Uh-huh.” Hope chewed her lip. She listened to the boat beside them. Was that thumping she could hear? Could Steve hear it, too?

“Everything’s fine. It’s just… it’s so weird.” Steve pointed with his pen to a red cone-shaped device strapped to the side of the deck. “I’m running checks on all the EPIRBs to make sure they’re all registered and up to date, and this one isn’t right.”

Hope shifted her handbag on her shoulder. “An EPIRB?”

“It’s an emergency position-indicating radio beacon.” Steve looked at the sky, recited the words carefully. “Ha, that’s what I think it stands for, anyway. That beacon gets wet and it’ll send a signal to the coastguard telling them you’re in trouble. You’ll want to chuck it in the water long before you start to sink, though!”

“Right.” Hope laughed.

“They also kind of act like a microchip would in your family dog,” Steve said. “They’re registered to particular people, and particular boats, in case the boat gets lost. Or the people get lost! Ha! Now, I’m seeing that your boat here is the New Hope. But when I look up your EPIRB number on the computer, it says this boat should be Dream Catcher.”

Steve tipped his clipboard, which he used to balance a thin computer tablet. Hope hardly glanced at the numbers on the screen.

“Did you change your vessel’s name, Ms.…” Steve looked at the screen. “Ms. Spelling?”

“Uh, no.” Hope wiped sweat from her neck. “No, this is… this is a different vessel. That we… we only recently purchased, my husband and I.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, I’m not even Ms. Spelling.” Hope drew a long breath. “Whoever that is. I’m… uh.”

Steve waited.

“Look, would you like to come aboard?” Hope gestured to the yacht. “Come on board and I’ll show you the paperwork and we can sort all this out.”

“Sure thing.” Steve smiled. He turned and stepped across the small gangway to the deck.

Hope followed, sliding her hand into the darkness of her handbag and around the polished handle of the hammer.