Tommy made the call.
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10
STON E A N D D IN O were breakfasting on their front porch when Stone’s cell phone vibrated. He flipped it open. “Hello?”
“It’s Tommy.”
“Good morning.”
“And to you. We got an overnight hit on Evan Keating’s cell phone.”
“Hallelujah! Where’s he staying?”
“Well, you were right, he’s on a boat.”
“Which marina?”
“No marina; he’s anchored out at the reef.”
“Let me put you on speaker, so Dino can hear this.” Stone pressed the button. “Go.”
“Key West has the only coral reef left in the continental United States. Everybody goes out there to snorkel and scuba, so a lot of moorings have been put down, to keep people from tearing up the coral with anchors. That’s where we picked up Keating’s cell phone, around two A.M.”
“Great, I’ll go out there and visit him.”
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L o i t e r i n g w i t h I n t e n t
“Hang on. We’re not getting his phone now, not at the reef or anywhere else.”
“Maybe he’s charging the thing. He could still be there.”
“So are a lot of other people. How are we going to know which boat?”
“Have you got coordinates?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know how accurate they are. If you like, I’ll take you out there. How about we meet at the yacht club in an hour?
The boat’s name is Rosie, and she’s visible from the front door of the club.”
“You’re on,” Stone said. “See you then.” He hung up.
“Stone,” Dino said, “here’s a thought: You’ve got the guy’s cell phone number; why don’t you just call him up and talk to him?”
“I thought of that; he’d just hang up in my face, and he might stop using the cell phone or change his number, and we’d have no way at all to trace him.”
“Okay, it was just a thought.”
They finished breakfast and headed for the Key West Yacht Club.
R OS I E TU R N E D O U T to be just as Tommy had described her: a fat, 30-foot fiberglass bathtub, with engines, a cabin and a fl ying bridge up top.
Tommy welcomed them aboard; the engines were already running.
“Tell me something,” Stone said. “If we all went up to the fl y-bridge, would this thing turn upside down?”