Eric was doing his best to make her feel better, letting her blow off steam without comment. It made her feel like a selfish child. After all, he had lost more than she, had even more to lose if they didn't hurry. So even under his cheerful patter she could detect the grim determination in his eyes.

But he hadn't always been so calm and understanding. She still remembered the rage that had fueled him only a few weeks ago during all that killing at Savvytown. Suddenly she realized that he had not dragged that murdered body out of the water just to prove to her there might be danger or to retrieve an arrow. He had wanted to study the face. Make sure it wasn't him. Dirk Fallows.

"Eric, are you sure Fallows came this way?" "You were there when I questioned that old man in Anaheim. He said a white-haired man in his forties and a young boy. Described Fallows and Timmy perfectly. Said the man shot him before stealing his boat. That's Fallows' style."

"Except that the old man lived." "Fallows wanted him to. So he could tell us." "Okay, but he could have taken that boat in any direction."

"No, he'd-" Eric paused, peered into the dark, looked troubled.

"What's wrong?"

"Shhh." He stopped paddling, tilted his ear to the wind.

Tracy listened, heard nothing. Same old shrill wind.

After a few minutes of listening, Eric began paddling again.

"What's wrong?"

"Wind sounded funny, as if it had to shift around some large object."

"Like an island?"

"Maybe. Or some debris. Could be anything."