J.M.J.
Author's note: Thank you so much for reading! Thank you especially to all those who have left reviews! The next chapter will be out July 4. God bless!
July 2 – Sunday
The naming ceremony was held directly after the "church" service. There was still some debate as to how such a ceremony should be conducted, but the boys worked out a plan. They felt strongly that there ought to be a flag, but since they didn't have one and had no way to make one, they had to do without it. The ceremony itself was simple, only a few minutes long. They stood at attention, said a few prayers (both in thanksgiving for surviving so easily thus far and for their continued prosperity as well as for a swift rescue, which seemed appropriate) and then solemnly pronounced the name of the island. At least, they made it as solemn as they could. Unused to solemnity, it felt strange, as if they were expected to make some kind of joke, yet at the same time, joking about felt inappropriate. After the ceremony, they had lunch, which seemed like it should have been a more special meal, but their options were limited.
"You know," Chet said, glancing down at the meal of fish and fruit on his plate, "there really should be something more interesting we could do with food. Once we get this place cleaned up and there's more time, I'm going to experiment. I mean, seriously, there's got to be something we could do. Pacific Islanders eat more than just fish and fruit."
"It's too bad there's no grain here," Biff added. "Just regular, old bread sounds really good right now."
"I don't know if we can do anything about that, but we could at least…cook a little better?" Chet replied.
"That's going to be tough to do without spices," Tony pointed out. "I suppose there are probably some plants on this island that are used as spices and herbs. I wonder if we could identify any."
"I don't know that trying plants that we don't know are edible is such a great idea," Frank cautioned them.
Chet sighed. "That's the problem. There are probably all kinds of delicious spices on this island, but we'll never know because we're too afraid to try them."
"Look on the bright side," Joe told him. "We might have bland food now, but we'll survive to get back to the kind of food we're used to."
HBNDHBNDHB
The Pearl Diver was gently rocking in her berth on the dock. She was just a small fishing boat; there was nothing ominous about her. Nevertheless, Fenton was glad that he had persuaded the others to stay back, except for Sam. This was the one lead that had turned up from the phone numbers in Brock Garret's car. The number had matched the one that was on file for one of Hikialani's suspects: a fisherman named Dain Sherman. It had taken some work to find him, which was why it wasn't until Sunday afternoon that Fenton and Sam were going to pay a call on him. They would have brought in the police, but since at this point, there was a definite connection to the kidnapping case, they knew that they wouldn't have been permitted to be present if the police had been involved.
With Mark's help, they had learned that Sherman was the only crewmember aboard the Pearl Diver, apart from the boat's captain, Tate Coswell. They had found where the Pearl Diver docked, and while the others waited farther down the pier, Fenton and Sam were approaching the boat. They were using a microphone so that their waiting allies could hear everything that was said and so that the entire conversation would be recorded.
"I don't see anyone around," Sam noted in a low voice, keeping an eye on the gently rocking boat. "If there isn't anyone, are we going to board the boat anyway?"
"I think we'd better," Fenton replied.
He called to anyone aboard the boat, and a minute or two later, a man badly in need of a shave came ambling out on deck.
"Whaddya want?" he asked the two men.
This was clearly not Dain Sherman, so Fenton asked if Dain was there.
"No. And he's not coming aboard again," the other man retorted. "He hasn't shown up to work in almost two weeks. If he ever does show up again, he's fired."
Fenton and Sam glanced at each other. Two weeks lined up with the boys' disappearance almost perfectly. Too perfectly to be a coincidence.
"Could we come aboard and talk to you?" Fenton asked.
The man narrowed his eyes. "Are you cops or something?"
"We're not cops," Fenton assured him. "It's important that we find Dain Sherman as quickly as possible. If you can answer a few questions, you might be able to help us find him."
The other man hesitated. Then he finally said, "Oh, I guess it'd be all right. Come on."
A gangway was already lowered to the dock, and so the two detectives were able to come aboard without difficulty. Once they were on deck, the man introduced himself as Tate Coswell.
"I'm the captain of this boat," he explained, "but I'm afraid I won't be able to keep her much longer. I can't put to sea without a mate, and I can't find anyone to replace Dain."
"I would think there would be any number of fishermen looking for jobs," Sam said.
Coswell scoffed. "You would think. Fishing doesn't pay much and living in these islands is expensive. Besides…Well, I doubt you care about my problems. You said you're looking for Dain. If you're not cops, why would you be looking for him?"
"Why would cops be looking for him?" Sam countered.
Coswell started, but he recovered himself well. "The guy up and disappears and doesn't even let his boss know where to send his last paycheck. He's either dead or he's on the run from something. Either way, there's a good chance the cops'd be looking for him."
Fenton smiled slightly. "You've got a point there. Our business with Dain is private, though. Do you know if he moved? We asked at the place where we heard he was living, but someone else is there who claims they've never heard of him."
"Well, now, Dain's been working for me, oh, four, five years," Coswell explained. "I have the address he gave me when he started, but I'll admit that I haven't been too particular about keeping up with his information. He picks up his paycheck here at work. Same with all his tax documents. He doesn't talk a whole lot about his personal business, anyhow. He could have moved a couple years ago, and I wouldn't know."
HBNDHBNDHB
Nancy, Don, Jack, and Mark Larson were waiting in Mark's car, parked a short distance down the pier. They had a receiver for Fenton and Sam's microphone and were listening to every word that passed between them and Coswell. Nancy and the two older men were used to this sort of thing and knew what to expect, but Don was quickly becoming nervous and fidgety. He kept looking around, half-expecting a gang of criminals to descend on them with guns. Right about the time that Coswell was making his excuses about not knowing where Dain lived, Don noticed a man walking down the pier.
Unthinkingly, he grabbed Nancy's arm, as she was sitting next to him. He pointed at the man with his free hand. "Hey! Isn't that…"
Nancy turned to look at the man and recognized their suspect from his pictures immediately. "Yeah. It's Dain. Jack, you'd better let Mr. Hardy and Mr. Radley know."
Jack nodded and picked up a radio that was tuned the same frequency as the earpieces the detectives were wearing. "The suspect is heading your way."
The conversation between the detectives and the fisherman went on as if they had heard nothing. Then Fenton casually said, "It sounds like you think something was distracting Dain from his work."
"He wants us to distract Dain and keep him from getting to the boat," Jack translated.
"How do we do that?" Don asked.
Rather than answering, Jack got out of the car and walked toward Dain. "Hey, excuse me," he called loudly to Dain.
The fisherman couldn't have possibly failed to hear him, but he continued walking, his head down so that he couldn't make eye contact with Jack.
Jack jogged a few paces to catch up with him. "Excuse me!"
Dain must have decided that pretending not to hear him would call even more attention to himself. He whirled around to face him. "What do you want?"
"I was wondering if you could give me some directions."
"Ask Google Maps. I'm late for work." Dain turned on his heel and continued walking.
Jack didn't let him get away. "I would, but I don't have my phone." He held his hands out to demonstrate. "It'll only take a second."
Dain continued walking, muttering, "Stupid tourists."
Obviously, no amount of words were going to get Dain to stop, so Jack decided to use the opening that the sailor had given him. He grabbed Dain by the shoulder in an exaggerated show of indignation. "Who are you calling stupid?"
Dain tried to shrug off Jack's grip, but he couldn't do it. "You some kind of psycho or something? Let go of me."
"Not until you say what you did a minute ago to my face," Jack retorted.
Dain set his jaw. "You want an apology? You'll be waiting a long time, buddy."
Jack swung a fist at the man's face. Dain managed to duck, but Jack still had hold of his arm. A moment later, they were in a full-blown fight. Jack's allies in the car watched in surprise at the development.
"Well, that's one way to distract the guy," Mark commented. "We'd better help. He's not going to be able to keep that up for long."
All three got out of the car and ran toward the fighting men, hoping that in the confusion of the fight, Dain wouldn't see where they had come from. Don and Mark pulled the two men apart, but by this time, Dain was so riled up that he struggled against Mark, who wasn't able to hold the brawny sailor. He broke free and launched himself at Jack once more.
"Hey, stop it!" Nancy shouted, feeling rather helpless as all four men became caught up in the fight. "Stop right now, or I'll call the police!" she threatened.
That got through to Dain, who gave up immediately. Jack, whether to continue the act or because he was in earnest, tried to throw another punch at him, but Don managed to restrain him.
"No need to get the cops involved," Dain said, holding out his hands in a placating gesture. "It was just a personal argument. It's no big deal."
"No big deal?" Jack retorted, struggling against Don's grip.
"Maybe you'd better call the police, ma'am, so they can sort this out," Mark told Nancy.
"I think that's a good idea." Nancy pulled her phone out of her purse.
"No!" Dain darted forward and slapped the phone out of her hand, causing everyone to freeze in stunned silence for a moment.
"I hope you didn't just break my phone," Nancy said, recovering herself first.
She stooped to pick the phone up again, but then Dain whipped a handgun out of his pocket, causing everyone to freeze once more.
"Look, you people don't know what you're getting into," Dain said. "If you know what's good for you, you'll forget this whole scene."
He started backing away, and no one else dared to move.
HBNDHBNDHB
Back aboard the Pearl Diver, Fenton was trying to determine whether Coswell realized his hired man was approaching at that very moment. If the captain was lying about his mate's whereabouts, it looked very suspicious that the two might be involved in the boys' disappearance. Coswell didn't give any definite indication that he knew anything, although Fenton did catch him glancing at his watch a couple of times.
"Well, thank you, Captain Coswell," Fenton said finally. "The information you've given us might be helpful."
"I certainly hope so," Coswell replied. "I'll walk you out on deck."
The three men returned to the deck, and that was when they saw the scuffle taking place farther down the pier. All of them rushed to see what was happening and whether they could help, and they arrived just in time to see Dain pull his gun out.
Coswell was clearly not pleased with this development. He shouted a string of expletives at Dain—calling him by name, amongst other things. The gist of it was that he was asking Dain what he thought he was doing. Dain turned to look, and his eyes widened, although whether he was more alarmed at seeing Coswell or the men he was with was hard to say.
"Everybody, just stand back!" Dain shouted. "You, too, Coswell!"
Coswell glanced nervously at Fenton and Sam. "Look, I don't know what this is about."
"You're not going to let me take all the heat for this!" Dain retorted. "If I go down, you do, too."
Coswell worked his jaw and put his hand under his jacket. "I don't know what he's talking about."
"You squealing, little coward!" Dain screamed at him, with a few additional words thrown in. "You were copping the whole thing to Hardy, weren't you?"
As Dain took a menacing step toward him, Coswell suddenly whipped a gun out from under his jacket and fired. At the same moment, Dain shot at his erstwhile employer. Both fell, while Fenton shouted for the others to get clear. Mark grabbed both Nancy and Don by the elbows and pulled them back behind the car where they would have cover. Jack saw that Dain had dropped his weapon, and he darted forward to kick it out of the man's reach, in case he wasn't completely incapacitated. Sam and Fenton rushed forward to disarm Coswell, but there was no need, as it was clear he was already dead.
Dain was still moving slightly and he groaned. He had fallen on his face, and Jack gently turned him over on his back. Sam was already calling the police and an ambulance, and Fenton came to check on the injured man. The wound was bleeding badly.
"We need to get pressure on that," Fenton said.
"Right." Jack glanced around for something he could use, but nothing was readily at hand. "Larson!" he shouted. "Do you have anything cloth in your car?"
"I have a spare shirt!" Nancy called, reaching into the car to retrieve the backpack she had brought. She pulled out the shirt and ran it over to Jack, who took it from her and began using it. Nancy stood over the men, watching the procedure.
Dain was breathing hard and it was clearly difficult for him to talk, but he managed to say, "Hardy?"
Fenton leaned in closer. "Yes?"
"You're here, looking for your boys," Dain said.
Fenton instinctively clutched the man's sleeve. "Where are they?"
Dain's face contorted with pain. His first few words were impossible to make out, but the rest went, "…hired to do it. Coswell and me. Don't let him…He's as much…part of it as me…"
"Where are they?" Fenton repeated intently.
"Dumped them…in the water," Dain went on.
Fenton could feel his blood freeze. "What?"
"Didn't have a ch…" Dain slurred on, evidently beginning to lose consciousness. "Must be…"
Fenton shook him slightly to try to keep him awake. "What are you saying? The boys…"
"Dead," Dain said, losing consciousness a moment later.
Fenton continued clutching his sleeve, although his fingers were nerveless. Nancy clapped a hand over her mouth and turned away, feeling dizzy. Don rushed forward, noting how pale she was.
"What happened?" he asked.
Sam had finished his call and was close enough to hear the confession. He helped Fenton to his feet and walked him back toward the car, where he made him sit in the passenger seat.
Mark was chewing his lip as he watched his companions' reactions. He and Don hadn't been close enough to hear, but he could guess what had been said. "He talked, didn't he?"
Sam nodded briefly.
"I don't…" Don started to say, but then his mouth dropped as realization struck him.
Nancy wavered slightly, and Don reached out to support her. She gratefully leaned against him, her mind still sluggishly trying to understand what she had heard.
For probably the first time in his life, Fenton was completely unaware of what was happening around him. He let his head rest in his hands against the dashboard. He had thought he was prepared for the possibility of such news. He was an experienced detective, and he knew how missing persons cases usually turned out. But his own family was always all right in the end, no matter what had happened. Now that that luck had run out…
Sam was standing next to the car, keeping an eye on Fenton and trying to process his own shock. Seeing that Fenton wasn't going to do anything, he went to stand by Jack, who was still silently holding pressure against Dain's wound.
"Is he still alive?" Sam asked quietly.
Jack nodded. "I think so. He was pretty out of it. Do you think…?"
"That he didn't know what he was saying or he was mistaken?" Sam shook his head. "I'm afraid not."
