D.K. SHEPARD

You’ll never notice me sitting here, a few rows behind you on the evening train out of the city. I’m completely imperceptible.

Calvin tried not to react but could feel himself wince slightly at the memory of camera flashes, jabbing microphones, and shouted questions. Not questions, accusations.

“I didn’t hit him, did I?” Melvin sputtered.

“No,” Jeffrey declared. “I think you barely missed him. Wouldn’t that be a headline: Hitchhiker run down by injury lawyers.”

“Yes, I’m on my way, Nana…No, I’m going to jog over…Well no, I haven’t left yet, but I’m about to…I know I said I was on my way, it’s just an expression…"

“Were you followed?” Kirk asked, a sense of urgency in his voice and also a trace of accusation, like he expected Isla to slip up.

He must know, Beekman thought. It was impossible to know who had let it slip, but there were more than one potential culprits who were never reliable for keeping secrets.

Everything blended together in a stream of uninterrupted relaxation and fabulous meals. Until one morning Marvin and Celia never showed up for breakfast.

It was day nine, by Marcus’s count. He and Terrance had already spent eight days on the yellow life raft afloat in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.