"Do you have any idea where we are?"
Neal shook his head, his chin brushing against Sara's hair as she lay against his chest. "There's too much cloud cover. I can't see the stars."
"So you can navigate by the stars?"
"Well, it's probably not my best skill, but I have some experience."
"Oh, do tell."
"Would you believe I crewed for a competition yacht in the America's Cup one time?"
She pushed herself up, looking down at him. "Seriously?"
"Yup."
"What was the con?"
He laughed lightly and pulled her back down next to him. "No actual con with the crewing. Well, I may have… embellished my boating résumé a bit to get on board."
"Embellished, right."
"Fortunately, I'm a fast learner."
"So you just wanted to go sailing?"
"Seemed like a good idea at the time. And… there may have been some parties that offered tempting targets. Being a crew member got me into everything with no problem."
"Well, I feel better knowing that I'm stranded at sea with a pro."
"Now if we just had some sails, there might be something I could do."
"You can't rig something with, oh, I don't know, maybe our shirts?"
"Maybe. It's something to look at in the morning, when we can really see what's going on."
There was silence for a few minutes before Sara spoke up again. "Do you think they've discovered we're gone by now?"
"Well, if not, they will soon enough."
"And they'll head back this way."
"Probably." He felt her tense against his arm, and he tightened his hold around her shoulders. "Obviously, we're not going to out-run a motorized yacht. But I guess it really depends on how experienced the captain is. If he mostly just works the coastal waters, he may not factor in the currents."
"So which way are we heading?"
"Well, how do you feel about Nova Scotia?"
"I don't have my passport."
"Probably the least of our problems."
"True." She sighed and snugged in closer to his side. "Do you think Peter has found the card in your phone?"
"I hope so. I'm not sure it'll help them find us, but someone needs to look into what's going on."
"Neal, I'm sorry. I should have gone directly to Peter with this in the first place. It's just… well, it did start while we were together, and I wanted you to know."
"It's all right, Sara."
"Sure, because you planned to be floating in the middle of the ocean anyway, right?"
He gave that a soft laugh, and reached up with his free hand to brush her back. "Truth is, I was really happy when you called."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I really wanted a chance to talk to you, but I wasn't sure you'd take my call."
"Neal…"
"No, Sara, I know I screwed up – in a lot of ways. And I am so sorry it wound up hurting you. I hope you know I never intended that."
"I do know that, Neal. And I miss you, I really do. I just… I'm not sure if I can do it again."
"Well, that probably won't even be a possibility."
"What happened to the Mr. 'anything is possible' I knew?"
He sighed, buying a moment to choose his words. "I guess he wanted to say goodbye."
"What?" When Neal didn't answer right away, she propped herself up, looking down at him. "What do you mean?"
"I have a hearing next Tuesday."
"A hearing – about the treasure?"
"I imagine that could be part of it, although Keller did confess. It's about my whole situation. They could commute my sentence. But, given everything, I figure there's a really good chance that I'll be back in prison by Tuesday night."
"Oh, Neal…"
He reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips. "Whatever happens, I'm glad you were in my life, Sara Ellis."
"We were good together, in so many ways."
"Yeah. I just wish I hadn't been such an idiot."
"Neal, the treasure… it was part of who you are. What could you have done?"
"Was – part of who I was." He kissed her hand again and then sighed. "I do want you to know this. Before… before Elizabeth Burke was kidnapped, I had decided I didn't want to run. I told Mozzie I wasn't going with him."
"You turned your back on that treasure?"
"I did. I just realized too late that what I really wanted was what I already have." He paused, drawing in a deep breath. "Had," he amended softly.
Sara was quiet for a moment, considering that. "Can I testify?" she finally asked.
"What?"
"At the hearing. Can I testify?"
"I don't really know. They haven't clarified the ground rules."
"I wouldn't tell them about the Raphael you stole."
"Allegedly!"
"Right."
"Let's just worry about getting back to dry land," he suggested. "That's all that really matters for now."
They drifted on, borne by the currents. Curled up together under one of the survival blankets, the rocking eventually lulled Sara to sleep. Neal could feel when she drifted off, as her body relaxed, and her breathing evened out.
Sleep didn't find him, however. He lay awake, trying to visualize maritime charts in his head. This would be a good time to have Mozzie's total recall. It would be even more helpful if they were in the southern Pacific, where most of his sailing experience had taken place.
He hadn't wanted to slam Sara's idea of rigging a sail of some sort, but it really wouldn't be easy with their limited supplies. One thing he had learned was that sails had particular shapes and sizes for a reason. That didn't mean they couldn't try something in the morning, of course. Anything they could do to move in a more westerly direction would be good.
Because really, they were only headed toward Nova Scotia in the most general sense. Relying only on the current, they'd be swung east of Canada by quite a distance – straight out into the north Atlantic.
Neal sighed and shifted slightly, settling Sara more comfortably on his arm. Maybe he should try thinking about what he knew of shipping lanes…
After tossing and turning all night, with little sleep to show for it, Peter finally gave up shortly before dawn. Moving carefully, he slid out of bed, rearranging the covers over Elizabeth's still-sleeping form.
A quick stop in the bathroom, an even quicker stop back in the bedroom to grab his cell phone from the charger, and he was on his way downstairs. He got the coffee started and then fired up the electronics. No new voicemails, just a text message confirming that his automatic payment had been received for the newspaper subscription.
His work e-mail had a couple of promising messages. The overnight tech crew had unlocked Neal's phone – at least part of it. The recent call and message history would be waiting when he got to the office, but the contact list was proving to be a tougher nut to crack.
Given the penchant for secrecy in Neal's – Current? Former? – world, the contact list probably wasn't going to do anyone much good. If Neal really had planned this as an escape, the numbers would most likely already be out of date.
Peter replied to the e-mail, asking the tech department to just have the unlocked phone and the list of calls available for him when he got there.
Another message from the overnight coverage agent said that Sara's purse had been found in a dumpster behind a BBQ joint in Harlem. The police had been called, and a routine records check on her name had turned up the FBI alert. The purse, and its contents, was waiting in Peter's office.
Peter poured a cup of coffee, leaving it on the counter to cool. He grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl, peeling it as he started for the stairs. He'd get dressed, have his coffee, and then head for the office.
Maybe things would make more sense today.
Sara shifted a bit, not waking up but rolling farther to one side. By working carefully, Neal was able to pull his arm free, leaving her still slumbering.
He rolled to his knees, shaking his right arm to try and get some feeling back in it. Using his left hand he opened the flap on the raft's canopy. Fortunately, his worst-case scenario – that the mystery yacht would be bearing down on them – didn't appear to be true.
No dorsal fin circling them either.
He opened the emergency kit and pulled out the desalinization kit. It wasn't too different from what he'd been introduced to before. He filled the collection bag with water, added the contents of one of the syrup tubes, mixed well as instructed, and set it aside. In a few hours they'd have drinkable water, with the survival benefit of added sugar and electrolytes.
Thinking about having something to drink made his bladder remind him of something else. And unfortunately, survival rafts didn't come with restroom facilities.
They'd already shed shoes before settling down for the remainder of the night, so now he stripped everything else off. It wasn't as if he and Sara had any physical secrets left, and he didn't want the unpleasant experience of sitting around again in wet clothing.
One more quick check for dorsal fins, and then he slid into the water.
After a cramped night in the raft, the cool water felt good. He took a few strokes away from the little craft, relieved himself, and then swam around the outside, checking for any signs of damage. Fortunately, he didn't find any.
By the time he got back to the ladder, Sara was awake and leaning on the edge of the raft, looking down at him. "Out for a little morning exercise?"
Neal smiled up at her and then gestured out at the open ocean. "Your restroom and shower facilities, m'lady."
"Spacious," Sara conceded. "But I have to say, I think I prefer the layout at the Four Seasons."
"True. No heated towels here, no little bottles of over-hyped shampoo."
"Still, it does have some advantages over our accommodations from last evening."
"I find the 'no guns' policy especially attractive."
Sara nodded, absently brushing her hand over a huge bruise on her jaw. "And no hitting."
Neal pulled himself up on the edge of the raft, using one hand to steady himself. He wrapped the other hand behind her head, pulling her close. "Definitely no hitting," he whispered, brushing a soft kiss along her jaw.
She rested her forehead against his for a moment, and then sat back. "So, how's the water?"
"Refreshing. Come on in."
"Be there in a minute," she replied, her fingers working the buttons on her shirt…