"What are we talking about, a Navy SEAL?" I was baffled, for it was my understanding that SEALs on maneuvers were the only divers permitted around old ships moored at the Inactive Yard.

"We don't know who it is but he might have been looking for Civil War relics."

"After dark?"

"Ma'am, the area's off-limits unless you have clearance.

But that hasn't stopped people from being curious before.

They sneak their boats in and always it's after dark."

"This scenario is what the anonymous caller suggested?"

"Pretty much."

"That's rather interesting."

"I thought so."

"And the body hasn't been located yet," I said as I continued to wonder why this officer had taken it upon himself to call a medical examiner at such an early hour when it was not known for a fact that there was a body or even someone missing.

"We're out looking now, and the Navy's sending in a few divers, so we'll get the situation handled if it pans out.

But I just wanted you to have a heads up. And be sure you give Dr. Mant my condolences."

"Your condolences?" I puzzled, for if he had known about Mant's circumstances, why did he call here asking for him?

"I heard his mother passed on."

I rested the tip of the pen on the sheet of paper. "Would you tell me your full name and how you can be reached, please?"

"S. T. Young." He gave me a telephone number and we hung up.

I stared into the low fire, feeling uneasy and lonely as I got up to add more wood. I wished I were in Richmond in my own home with its candies in the windows and Fraser fir decorated with Christmases from my past. I wanted Mozart and Handel instead of wind shrilly rushing around the roof, and I wished I had not taken Mant up on his kind offer that I could stay in his home instead of a hotel. I resumed reading the statistical report, but my mind would not stop drifting. I imagined the sluggish water of the Elizabeth River, which this time of year would be less than sixty degrees, visibility, at best, maybe eighteen inches.