Sail. Part 2

Chapter 36

ANGELICA'S ENGLISH was spotty and at times nonexistent, but she managed to convey enough key words and phrases to get her message across. Or rather, the message she'd overheard being left by the Coast Guard on Peter and Katherine's home answering machine less than half an hour ago.Storm.Boat missing.No hear from Missus Katherine or Mister Jake.She'd also managed to write down a phone number that Peter could call for more information. Before he could dash off and do that, there was this little matter of jury selection in one of the highest-profile trials the city had seen in years. Peter approached the judge.Naturally, everyone in the gallery-especially those sporting s.h.i.+ny press badges-was extremely curious to find out what this impromptu sideshow was all about. The murmuring was contagious. This murder trial was certainly buzzworthy enough. Now would this added twist put it over the top?Also extremely curious was the young gun of a prosecutor. He wondered-no,feared that Carlyle was reaching into his renowned bag of tricks to gain the upper hand in choosing just the right jury. As fast as someone could say "Marcia Clark," he hurried over to join the hushed conversation going on between Peter and the judge.Now even the court reporter and clerk were exchanging raised eyebrows. What the h.e.l.l was going on here? What was Peter Carlyle up to this time?That's when the judge picked up his oak gavel and banged it hard three times. Quiet quickly fell over the courtroom. But what the judge had to say did absolutely nothing to enlighten anyone. All he offered, in a gravelly voice reminiscent of Tom Carvel's, was that voir dire in the Kincade trial would be postponed "until further notice."Again he went to his gavel, wielding it like a sledge-hammer.Bang! Bang! Bang!And off Peter dashed, leaving everyone in the courtroom, including Angelica, in his pin-striped, wingtipped wake.

Chapter 37

PETER DUCKED INTO the privacy of an empty office near the courtroom and whipped out his cell phone. His thumb was a blur as he dialed. The number for the Coast Guard had a 305 area code. Courtesy of a couple of drug-smuggling cases he had worked as outside counsel over the years, Peter knew that code was Miami.Angelica had scribbled the name of the Coast Guard lieutenant who had called. Andrew Toten, it read. Or was it Tatem? Peter squinted at the piece of paper in his hand. Angelica wrote English only slightly better than she spoke it.No matter, he would get the correct information from this Toten/Tatem.After three rings, a woman answered. "Lieutenant Tatem's office," she said curtly.Tatem.There was one question answered. That left only about a hundred others."Yes, this is Peter Carlyle calling from New York City. Lieutenant Tatem left a message at my home earlier this morning. I understand there's an urgent situation.""I'm not sure if he's available, Mr. Carlyle-let me check, please. One moment."Peter blinked hard in disbelief.She's not sure if he's available? How urgent does the situation have to be?Before he could respond, "He d.a.m.n well better be available!" Peter was put on hold. Actually, his first thought was that he'd been disconnected. The Coast Guard apparently eschewed Muzak, preferring stone-cold silence instead.Finally a man's voice came on the line. He sounded official enough, although younger than Peter expected. "This is Lieutenant Tatem," the man said.Peter hurriedly identified himself and asked what had happened toThe Family Dunne."That's part of the problem. We're not quite sure," replied Tatem. "We know the boat's been caught in a severe storm that boomeranged out over the Atlantic last night. We lost radio contact with it sometime after four-thirty this morning, Eastern Standard Time. It could be something with their radio.""Oh . . . my . . . G.o.d," said Peter softly."There is every reason to be optimistic, Mr. Carlyle. About two hours ago we received an EPIRB signal.""What exactly is that?" asked Peter."Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon," answered Tatem. "It's a tracking device, kind of like LoJack for boats. That's how we found you, in fact. The boat's owner, Dr. Katherine Dunne, listed Peter T. Carlyle, Esquire, as the emergency contact. Are you her attorney?""No, I'm Katherine'shusband. Wait, I'm confused-is my family okay or not?""I can't say for certain, Mr. Carlyle. But the deviceis manually activated. Somebody set it off. We'll be sending out a search-and-rescue mission as soon as we can."Peter's voice sharpened to an edge. "What do you mean,as soon as you can? What the h.e.l.l are you waiting for?""The storm, Mr. Carlyle," said Tatem, unruffled. "It hasn't fully pa.s.sed through the area the signal is coming from. I can't send out a search-and-rescue effort unless I know the team can actually make a rescue-or for that matter won't end up needing to be rescued itself.""So when will that be?" Peter asked, sounding desperate. "What's your estimate?""As I said, it should be very soon.""What am I supposed to do in the meantime? I mean, what can I do?""I'm afraid there's not much more you can do besides wait. I'll call you as soon as the situation changes and we know more."This struck Peter as wholly inadequate. As far as he was concerned, telling people to wait was tantamount to blowing them off. He felt like he was being handled. He hated being handled.Still, there was no sense showing this Tatem character the full force of his trip-wire temper. Peter knew he could ill afford to p.i.s.s off the Coast Guard. He definitely needed them on his side."Lieutenant, there must be something more that can be done," he pressed gently.Tatem exhaled a prolonged and heavy sigh. "Well, I don't know if you're a religious man, Mr. Carlyle, but if I could suggest one thing, it would be prayer.""Thank you, Lieutenant, that's good advice," said Peter, who didn't think he'd said a prayer in the last twenty years.

Chapter 38

"HOLY MOTHER OF G.o.d," muttered Jake, emerging from belowdecks as soon as the storm had pa.s.sed. "That was something else."Katherine and the kids, still wearing their life jackets, were right behind him. Their reactions echoed his as they gazed around. All in all, the Third Commandment never stood much of a chance. Mark in particular sounded like a broken record. "Jesus H. Christ," he kept repeating. And for good reason, too.The deck looked like a war zone in the middle of Iraq. There was splintered wood at nearly every step, shattered nautical instruments along the helm, and a veritable obstacle course of strewn ropes and seat cus.h.i.+ons everywhere else.And it only got worse when they all peered upward."Jesus H. Christ!" said Mark again. "I don't believe it.""If you don't believe, then stop calling on poor Jesus," Jake finally said, but then he patted Mark's shoulder.The tremendous jolt they had all felt while riding out the storm the night before was exactly what Jake had said it was. Lightning. The mainmast must have been hit dead on-which pretty much explained the second jolt, which immediately followed.The top of the mast had been completely sheared off! Cut in two.It had plummeted eighty feet, smas.h.i.+ng into the deck. Or rather, what was left of the deck.The new developments were what had prompted Jake to activate the EPIRB. Even if they were lucky enough to survive the storm, he knew that without a workable mast, their sailing days onThe Family Dunne would be absolutely, positively . . .done. This vacation was over, and given the circ.u.mstances, none too soon.Now, standing on the deck in daylight, he could see that his decision was the right one."Uncle Jake, when will the rescue people get here?" asked Ernie. "How soon?""I imagine the Coast Guard has to wait a bit for the storm to pa.s.s the area," he answered. "As soon as they can come, though, they will.""Are you sure?" asked Carrie, less than convinced and looking a little paler than usual."Yes, I'm sure they'll be here. They know there's a problem. They're good at what they do.""They better be!" said Mark, still staring at what remained of the mast. Scorched black where the top had broken off, it looked like a big burnt match.Jake rea.s.sured the kids for a second time while stealing a couple of concerned glances at Katherine. They all had been holding on for dear life during the storm, but it was Katherine who appeared the most shaken up right now."You okay?" he said to her.She nodded-and to almost anyone else that's all it would've been. A simple nod. To Jake, though, it was more. He could read between the lines. Katherine had been dealing with more than just her fear; she was also dealing with the guilt. This trip had been her idea. The trip was her fault.That's when it clicked for him.His eyes darted from Katherine to the kids, each one looking more dour than the next.I'm not doing my job,he suddenly realized.He was still captain, responsible for their well-being, and as such he was setting the wrong example right now. After the eight-hour, white-knuckled ride of their lives, this was no time for doom and gloom. They should all be happy. No-on second thought, they should be celebrating.They were alive!Who cared if the boat was basically destroyed? They weren't. None of them was even hurt. Soon, thanks to the EPIRB, help would be on its way and they'd boogie out of here."So what do we do now?" asked Ernie.Jake flashed a grin.He knew just the thing.

Chapter 39

JAKE LUNGED FORWARD with a mischievous laugh, grabbed Ernie by his life jacket, and swooped him high into the air."What do we do now, little man?" he said. "We go swimming, that's what we do!"With a heave-ho, Jake launched Ernie over the railing. "Noooooooo!" Ernie screamed all the way down to the water, which he hit with an impressive splash.Mark and Carrie broke into spontaneous laughter while Katherine dashed to the edge of the boat. She was sure Ernie would be in tears, or worse, thanks to Jake's practical joke, or whatever it was he thought he was doing.But Ernie was just fine. Actually, he was better than fine. Against the neon-bright orange of his life jacket, his smiling teeth looked whiter than white. He looked up at the boat and shook a playful fist at Jake. Then he began splas.h.i.+ng around, having an absolute ball.Jake spun on his heels, casting a devilish eye on Katherine, Mark, and Carrie. "Who's next?" he asked. "It's one of you for sure. Who can I catch the easiest?"Like bugs under a lifted rock, they all scattered across the deck. One by one Jake hunted them down, singing blissfully off-key the entire time. It was a favorite Blondie song. "One way or another, I'm gonna getcha, I'll getcha, I'll getcha, getcha, getcha!"He gotchaed Carrie first. She wriggled in his arms hopelessly, trying to break free. "I don't understand," joked Jake as he lifted her over the edge. "I thought you liked going overboard!"Carrie laughed uncontrollably; she couldn't help it. The first day of the trip and her suicide attempt seemed like a long, long time ago."Geronimo!" yelled Jake as he tossed her over the side.That's when Mark tried to turn the tables on his fun-loving uncle. At least he was finally taking some initiative. He snuck up behind Jake and grabbed him around the waist. "I sayyou're next!" he shouted.But Mark could barely lift his much bigger uncle, let alone send him for a swim."Nice try, hotshot," said Jake before applying a wrestling spin move on Mark that would've made Dusty Rhodes proud.In two seconds flat, Mark was hoisted over the side."And then there was one!" declared Jake, eyeing Katherine, who was trying to hide out at the bow."Okay, that's enough. I'm good," she said. "I'm the mom. I say game over!""Game over?"Jake began slowly angling toward her, cutting off escape routes. She was cornered and she knew it."No, really, c'mon," she said. "I give up . . . Uncle!Uncle, Jake! "He shook his head. "Do you really think you're going to talk your way out of this one, Doc?""But my hands . . . ," she said, holding them up, her bandages looking like mittens."The water will be good for them."The kids had gleefully paddled toward the bow, making no secret of what they wanted to see. A grand finale."C'mon, Uncle Jake, send her over!" yelled Ernie. "I'll catch her.""Yeah," shouted Mark."Katherine Dunne-c'mon down!"Jake laughed and then shrugged. "Sorry, Kat, but you heard the boys."He rushed in, lifting her up in his arms and spinning her around. For a quick but unmistakable moment their eyes met, the memories of their secret flooding to the surface-only to disappear as fast as the kids screamed for Jake to hurry.Which he did.With everyone laughing and having the time of their lives-lives that had seemed in doubt only a short time ago-Jake stood at the bow, triumphant."I'm king of the boat!" he yelled as he released Katherine into the air. "King of the -"BOOM!In the blink of an eyeThe Family Dunne exploded, the entire boat disappearing within a ma.s.sive orange fireball.

Chapter 40

"THERE HE IS! There's Carlyle," shouted a reporter, wielding his arm like a jousting stick as he pointed down the long, echoing hallway of the courthouse. Off they all raced, a pack of hyenas with roughly the same manners as hyenas.In some ways it was like a scene out of an old movie, the intrepid reporters milling around until the man of the moment showed his face. Within seconds of stepping out of the office where he'd called the Coast Guard, Peter was surrounded.Every reporter, from thePost to theNews to theTimes to theJournal , was utterly convinced that the message Peter had received in the courtroom had something to do with the Kincade case. Something very juicy and rewarding! That had to be it. What else could it be to pull him out of voir dire?They weren't about to get an answer, though. Not yet, at least. Not until Peter knew more about the mystery himself. The reporters clung to him like paper clips to a magnet, but Peter didn't let out a peep to their onslaught of questions. Not even a "No comment."What a tease he was. Years and years of practice.The renowned attorney Peter Carlyle-the man who loved trying his cases in a packed courtroom and always managed to have a few words, if not an entire monologue, for the press-remained absolutely b.u.t.toned-lipped this time.Instead he silently pushed his way through the wall of handheld recorders and ducked through a nearby door that guaranteed his escape thanks to a sign on the frosted gla.s.s that featured five magical words, words that all of this society sorely needed.NO PRESS BEYOND THIS POINT.The door led to the administrative lounge, and from there it was a mere two flights down a secluded staircase to reach an exit at the back of the building.Walking through a narrow alleyway, Peter did a quick check around the corner of the soot-laced brick building, his eyes carefully taking in the sidewalk before him.Hmmm. It looked reasonably good. No reporters to the left, no reporters to the right.In the clear.Peter eased his way into the crowded foot traffic of lower Manhattan, blending in as best he could. He didn't know yet where he was going. Wherever it was, he could at least get there in peace and then try to respond to the disturbing news he'd just gotten.But then, two blocks farther, a newsstand caught his eye. While those bloodthirsty reporters back at the courthouse were busy searching for tomorrow's headlines, Peter had yet to read today's. Screw the war on terror, world hunger, and the latest celebrity adoption-what were the pundits saying about him and the Kincade trial?Or really, just him? Strangely, he felt a need for self-justification right now.Peter s.n.a.t.c.hed up a few local papers before pointing at a small refrigerator with a sliding gla.s.s door directly behind the turbaned guy manning the stand."And a Red Bull," said Peter.What happened next was unbelievable, but pure Peter Carlyle. The moment the guy turned around to open the refrigerator, Peter reached into the tip jar on the counter, pulled out a handful of singles, and stuffed them in his pocket. Never mind that he was carrying over six hundred bucks in his wallet.The counterman turned back around with a cold Red Bull in hand. He quickly added up the total, including all the papers. "Five twenty-five," he muttered, sounding vaguely Pakistani.Peter reached into his pocket and counted out six of the stolen dollars. "Here," he said. "Keep the change."

Chapter 41

SO YES, I'm a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, he was thinking.Worse even than some people think. Spotting an empty bench at a playground up the block, Peter sat down and sifted through the newspapers while enjoying his Red Bull, but also the daring petty theft he'd pulled off so beautifully.The papers were full of him. Sure enough, the start of jury selection in the Kincade trial was getting a lot of ink. That meant so was Peter.Shark.Pit bull.Eight-hundred-pound gorilla.Only theNew York Times managed to steer clear of the proverbial zoo and the rather biased comments on his courtroom reputation. In a brief story in the Metro section, it opted for "Peter Carlyle, a prosecutor's worst nightmare."That had a nice ring to it, didn't it? G.o.d bless theTimes and Mr. Sulzberger.Peter read the printed phrase over and over, the words dancing in his head. The rumba. The tango. The cha-cha!That's when a soft, cultivated male voice cut in. "Fancy meeting you here, Counselor."Peter lowered the paper to see his surprise visitor sitting on the bench right next to him. It was as if he had appeared out of thin air.How'd he do that?"Shouldn't you be in court?" asked Devoux."Shouldn't you be anywhere but here?" Peter spoke angrily.There was a fine line between mutual respect and contempt, and the two men were sitting right on top of it. In Peter's mind, what happened next would be crucial."There's no reason that you and I can't be seen together," said Devoux. "It's not like we've done anything wrong.""You're right," agreed Peter. "In fact,we haven't done anything at all, have we?"Devoux smiled behind black Armani sungla.s.ses that matched his black Armani three-b.u.t.ton suit. "Spoken like a true lawyer.""The same one who once saved your a.s.s, if I'm not mistaken. Am I mistaken?""Am I not returning the favor?""For a d.a.m.n good price you are.""I gave you a terrific discount off my usual fee. How quickly they forget.""I'm touched," said Peter."Of course, if you had only known Mother Nature might be willing to do the job for free.""So you heard . . .""Yes," said Devoux. "I a.s.sume you've already heard from the Coast Guard?""Just minutes ago, in fact. The officer I spoke to said they lost radio contact with the boat. But he also said they were receiving some kind of signal.""An EPIRB.""Yeah, that was it," said Peter. "The officer told me it's manually activated.""Indeed it is.""That means Katherine and the brats are still alive?""Not necessarily. I would expect a little more logic out of you.""The Coast Guard at least knows where to look for them, though, right?"Devoux smiled again, this time as wide as the Atlantic. "So they think.""What's that supposed to mean?""It means . . . they received the wrong coordinates. It means I'm very good at this.""How?" asked Peter."Presto, that's how."Fair enough. Peter didn't need to know Devoux's dark secrets. Better if he didn't. Besides, he could give a s.h.i.+t how he had rigged the EPIRB. Just so long as he had done it."Good," said Peter. "So the Coast Guardwon't be able to find them. Is that what you're telling me?""No, I didn't say that. Eventually they would, if not for one thing."Peter knew exactly what that thing was. It went without saying, but Devoux said it anyway-clearly just to amuse himself."Trust me, if the storm didn't kill your loved ones-ka-blam, ka-blooey-my bomb sure as h.e.l.l will. It's a done deal. The family Dunne is history."Devoux was a sick f.u.c.k all right.Precisely why Peter Carlyle had hired him to murder his family.

Part Three

Ka-Blam, Ka-Blooey

Chapter 42

THE FIRST THING I'm aware of is the intense heat, red-hot. It scalds my hair and skin as I tumble through the air. Everything about this is unreal. I'm on fire!And it only gets worse when I hit the water.Because I don't hit the water.Instead I come cras.h.i.+ng down on a jagged piece of the hull that, like everything else, has been sent hurtling from the boat, or what used to be known as the boat.Snap!goes my right s.h.i.+nbone. I know exactly what's happened. I can literally feel it burst through my skin.As I roll off the piece of the hull and into the water, my body immediately goes into shock. My arms, my hands, my one good leg-they're useless. I can't move a muscle. If not for my life jacket, I'd be drowning.This is unbelievable! What the h.e.l.l just happened? I can't begin to imagine an answer.I look back at the boat-except it's not there. It's not anywhere. It's gone!As if in a magic trick,The Family Dunne has disappeared from sight.That's when the terrifying, gut-wrenching thought travels down from my brain and tears through my heart at warp speed.My family!All I can see is thick black smoke rising from the water's surface. Bits and pieces of the boat are in raging flames. Each second that pa.s.ses without my seeing Carrie, Mark, or Ernie makes the fear and panic grow. Oh, G.o.d, where are the kids? Where's Jake?I'm bobbing helplessly in the water as I call out their names between painful, racking coughs. The billowing smoke fills my lungs, and I feel myself getting weaker by the second. I'm losing too much blood from my leg. I'm on the verge of pa.s.sing out.Still, all I can think about is the kids."Carrie! Mark! Ernie!"I keep screaming their names, but I don't hear them call back. I don't hearanything around me. No one calls out to me. The only sound is a m.u.f.fled, hollow ringing in my head. It's aftershock from the blast, I know. Blunt trauma to the ears.The black smoke surrounds me like a wall now, and I can barely breathe. Every attempt to scream for the kids turns into another cough as blood begins to spray from my lips. I cover my mouth, only to watch my hand turn bright red. Where is the blood coming from? I wonder. Did I fracture a rib? Is it poking a lung? Or did I just bite my tongue when I crashed into the water?And what about Jake?He was on the boat when it exploded. Now he's nowhere.Are they all gone?Am I the only one who survived?No! No! No! PLEASE, NO! I can't even fathom the thought-insidious, horrible.My entire family is dead.

Chapter 43

I CONTINUE TO CALL their names.Then I hear a voice cut through the wall of smoke, filling me with hope, thanks to one small word, the most beautiful word in the English language right now."Mom!"It's Ernie, and he's alive.My hearing snaps back and I twist my body around to see him swimming toward me. His face is seared black from the blast and he looks absolutely petrified, but he's alive. Oh, but he's so scared, poor guy.I forget about my leg at the sight of him and try to meet him halfway. That's when a violent rush of pain reminds me that I'm in no condition to swim. Tears are all I can manage as I wait for him to reach me.I immediately throw my arms around his life jacket and hug him as hard as I dare."Are you okay?" I ask."I think so," he says. "Are you, Mom?"I'm about to lie-I don't want to scare him any worse-when he sees the blood around my mouth."I'll be fine," I say.He doesn't quite believe me. "What is it? What can I do?" he pleads."Nothing," I a.s.sure him as my field of vision begins to narrow. I can feel my eyes rolling back now. Not good-really not good. I might pa.s.s out, and then Ernie will be all alone out here. Next I start to s.h.i.+ver, and my teeth are chattering. Not good."Mom!" he yells."Mom!"I blink hard, forcing myself to stay conscious. I need to think in straight lines, like a doctor, like myself. I need to stop the bleeding in my leg.What I need is a tourniquet.The M.D. in me takes over and I quickly remove one of the straps from my life jacket. Reaching down in the water, I fasten it as tight as I can above my knee. Within seconds I can feel it helping, if only a little."There, that's better," I tell Ernie. "Are you in any pain? Tell me if you are.""No, I'm okay.""You sure?""I'm sure."He nods, and I ask him about his brother and sister, whether he's seen them or not. I almost don't want to hear the answer."No. Not so far," he says, shaking his head. "What about Uncle Jake?""I don't know, honey. I haven't seen anybody but you yet."Again I'm about to lie. I want to tell Ernie that everything and everyone is going to be okay. I want him to believe me, and I want to believe it myself. But I can't do it. It's not the way I was trained, and it's not who I am.He reaches out and puts his hand on my shoulder. He looks so small draped in that big orange life jacket. "Don't worry, Mom," he a.s.sures me. "It's going to be okay. I promise you."I want to cry.It's the sweetest lie I've ever been told.

Chapter 44

HOLY s.h.i.+T-what was that?Carrie's eyes fluttered open, only to be met by the cold, salty sting of the ocean. Her head snapped back, and immediately she began to cough her lungs clean of the smoke that was everywhere.She didn't feel particularly lucky, but that's what she was.Unbelievably lucky. She'd been lying with her face on the side of her life jacket, unconscious. Another minute or two and she could have been dead. For sure, if her face had been in the water.At first she didn't know where she was. Even when she saw Mark ten feet away, she still didn't know. The only thing clear was that her brother needed help.Like her, he'd been knocked unconscious by the blast on boardThe Family Dunne. Unlike her, he'd yet to come out of it.As fast as she could, Carrie swam toward him. With each labored stroke she began to remember. Jake chasing them all around the boat . . . their getting thrown in one by one . . . her mother being the last to go overboard.But wait-did Mom get off?Then everything had gone black on her. She still didn't know what had happened. Like, where was the boat? Where was the rest of the family?"Mark!" she said, reaching her brother. "Wake up!Wake up! "He wouldn't, though. She grabbed him by his life jacket and slapped his cheeks.C'mon, Mark . . . "I said c'mon, Mark. This is important-wake the h.e.l.l up."Finally his lids peeled back and his pupils shrank into focus. "What happened?" he asked woozily. "What's going on?"Carrie still wasn't sure herself. "There might have been an explosion," she said.Mark glanced around at what little remained of the boat, bits and pieces still in flames. His hair was singed, and a nasty gash on his forehead was bleeding freely, but his sarcasm remained unscathed. "Gee, you think so?" he quipped."I should've left you unconscious," Carrie was about to say when they both turned their heads."Do you hear that?" asked Mark.Carrie nodded. "It's Mom!"There was another voice too. Thank G.o.d, it was Ernie! She had never been so happy to hear her loquacious little brother.Mark and Carrie called out to them and began making their way through the wafting smoke and wreckage."Here!" their mother shouted. "We're over here!"A hurried minute later, all the Dunnes were united in the water.All of them except Jake.

Chapter 45

"LOOK!" said Ernie, pointing. "Over there! Will you all look!"The smoke still hovered everywhere like a dense fog. It was impossible to see anything clearly. But as the wind s.h.i.+fted slightly, they all caught a glimpse of what Ernie saw.Jake.He was forty, maybe fifty yards away."Uncle Jake!" called out Carrie.It quickly became obvious-painfully obvious-that he wasn't about to respond. Jake was facedown in the water with his arms out, motionless. Otherwise known as the dead man's float. Katherine gasped. "Oh, G.o.d, no!"Mark immediately commandeered Carrie and Ernie. "You two stay here with Mom," he said. "I'll go get Uncle Jake."He pushed away from the tight square their family had formed in the water."No, wait, I'll come too," said Carrie. All she could think about was how Jake had come to her rescue on the first day of the trip."Fine," said Mark. "Let's move it, though."They both took off. Mark was fast, but Carrie was even faster. Of the two swimming records she still held at her prep school, one was the fifty-meter freestyle. It was no surprise she reached Jake first.Right away she almost wished she hadn't. His arms and legs-what she could see of them, at least-were severely burned. Blood was seeping out of the burns. His skin, raw and blistering red, had bubbled like paint under a heat gun. Carrie suddenly felt sick to her stomach.Fighting back her urge to throw up, she tried to flip Jake over. He was too heavy. Fortunately, that's when Mark caught up and gave her a hand. Together, they turned him on his back. It had to be done."He's not breathing, is he?" asked Carrie, her voice trembling. "He's dead, Mark."Mark unhooked Jake's life jacket, then dropped his head onto his uncle's chest. "I can't hear a heartbeat," he said. "Maybe there's a faint one?"Carrie froze. She felt paralyzed, and scared to death. Then she heard a voice from her past: her CPR instructor. Everyone on the Choate swim team had to be certified.It was a long time ago, but it came back to her."Hold his head up!" she told her brother. "I know mouth-to-mouth, Mark. We have to try."Mark propped Jake up by the neck as Carrie tilted his head back to open his airway. She pinched his nostrils together and covered his mouth with hers. Then she started breathing into Jake's mouth."C'mon, Uncle Jake!" she pleaded between breaths."C'mon!"Thirty seconds pa.s.sed-at least that long. Carrie was exhausted, her lungs pushed past their limit. Still, she wasn't going to give up."d.a.m.n it, Uncle Jake!Breathe! " she yelled.That's when he did.A small breath gave way to a bigger one.And an even bigger one.Until he was breathing on his own.His eyes were closed and he was still out of it. But he was back from the dead.Mark listened again to his heart, just to make sure. When he heard it beating harder and more regularly, he pumped his fist in the air. "Jesus, you did it, Carrie! You really did it!"The two looped their arms around Jake and slowly dragged him back to their mother and Ernie.The crew ofThe Family Dunne was together again. Just the way it ought to be."So what do we do now?" asked Ernie. "Who has an idea?""We wait," answered Mark. "As Jake said, the Coast Guard should be here soon."He looked up at the huge cloud of smoke hovering over their heads. "We shouldn't be too hard to find."

Chapter 46

LIEUTENANT ANDREW TATEM stood on the edge of the giant indoor simulation pool at the U.S. Coast Guard base in Miami. With a slow, emotionless stare he surveyed the six rescue swimmers in training as they treaded water in their wetsuits.They were a young, strong, and pretty bright bunch of kids who were also green as a plate of snow peas.That would soon change, though. It was Tatem's job to make it change.These days, at least.Two years ago he had been one of the guard's best rescue men. He still would be if he hadn't shattered his right leg during a mission off the Grenadan coast. Thanks to a dozen metal screws, the leg had healed. He could walk fine, in fact. Running, however, was a different story. And as for jumping out of helicopters in the middle of the ocean, those days were definitely over for him.Now he was spending half his days behind a desk; the other half he was trying to clone himself at the Guard's rescue-swimmer training school. He wasn't bitter. He just really, really missed the action."Anytime you're ready, sir!" joked one of the trainees in the pool. He and the rest of the group had been treading water for over twenty minutes.Tatem checked his watch: twenty-three minutes, to be exact.They were good and tired, which was exactly the point of this grueling exercise.Because now they were good and ready as well."Let 'er rip!" he called to the control booth.His top lieutenant, Stan Millcrest, gave a thumbs-up to Tatem. Then, with a flip of a switch, he turned on the world's largest ceiling fan. The twenty-foot blades began circling above the pool. Within seconds they had reached their top speed, 3,000 rpm. Or, as Tatem affectionately called it, "Apocalypse Now.""I love the smell of chlorine in the morning!" he yelled to the trainees. "Don't you all agree?"The purpose of the exercise was to simulate the gale-force winds of a storm out at sea so the trainees would know what to expect once they were in the water trying to save lives. Safe to say, this exercise was no day at the beach.Tatem looked on as the young men and two women struggled to stay afloat, their arms and legs s.h.i.+fting from tiredness to utter exhaustion. At the first sign that any trainee couldn't hack it he would signal to Millcrest to cut the rotor engine on the blades, and the trainee might be excused from the program.Tatem glanced at his watch again. "Two more minutes!" he yelled.While keeping a close eye on the fake storm in the pool, he couldn't help thinking about the real storm that had raged during the night a few hundred miles offsh.o.r.e. All in all, the base's search-and-rescue teams (SARs) had been fortunate-which was to say that almost every vessel in the area had been lucky enough to steer clear of the storm's hull-battering grip.The one exception was a sailboat calledThe Family Dunne. That one was still missing.But there was every reason to be somewhat optimistic. The boat's EPIRB had signaled its coordinates, and his very best SAR team was already on its way. In fact, Tatem was scheduled to get an update from the team at the top of the hour. By then they should just be arriving on the scene. They would know what had happened.Suddenly the rotor engine stopped.s.h.i.+t!Had his lieutenant seen something he hadn't? Had one of the trainees gone under?Tatem did a quick head count. No, they were all there. And according to his watch there were still thirty-five seconds left in the exercise.What gives?He looked up at Millcrest in the control booth for an answer. Only he wasn't there. Instead he was walking straight toward Tatem on the pool deck with a look on his face that Tatem had seen before.Something was wrong in paradise.

Chapter 47

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, it just disappeared?" asked Tatem. "I'm not following you."He and Stan Millcrest had stepped into the pool's locker room after telling the cla.s.s to take five. The trainees were more than happy to oblige."All I know is that the radio room just buzzed me to say they lost the EPIRB on the Dunne boat," said Millcrest. "One minute it was loud and clear, the next it was gone.""Are they sure?""Positive.""It's not equipment failure on our part? Wouldn't be the first time. One of our dishes malfunctioning?""That's the first thing I asked," said Millcrest. "They told me they checked everything on our end twice. No glitches, no anything."Tatem lit up a Camel. Smoking and poker were his only vices, and he usually didn't do one without the other. The only exception was when things went wrong at work. Like right now."I'm thinking it's one of two scenarios," continued Millcrest, displaying the trait that Tatem liked about him: he wasn't afraid to give his opinion to his commanding officer. "Either the battery went dead on theDunne 's EPIRB, or they turned it off for some reason."Tatem took a long drag and let it out slowly as he thought. Both scenarios were plausible-more than plausible, in truth.But were they probable?That was the thing. In all his years with the Coast Guard, he'd never encountered an EPIRB that had stopped working once it had been activated. Of course, there was always a first time for everything."Either way," said Tatem, "it's not as if the initial coordinates changed. We'll just have to expand the search area a bit to allow for the prevailing currents.""That shouldn't be much," said Millcrest. "The storm's past now. It's pretty calm.""Exactly. But do me a favor, will you? Get on the radio with the SAR team and tell them to kick it into high gear. Call it a hunch, but the faster they can get to that boat, the better."Millcrest nodded before spinning on his heels. "I'll keep you posted," he said, walking away.Tatem hung in the locker room for another minute, guiltily finis.h.i.+ng his smoke. For some odd reason the voice of Peter Carlyle, the lawyer from New York who had called earlier that morning, was still lodged in his head. Something about the call was troubling him.Over the past ten years Tatem had dealt with countless people who were anxiously waiting to hear something-anything-about their loved ones stranded out at sea. On the surface, Carlyle seemed no different. He was impatient, somewhat emotional, and most definitely concerned. So what was the problem?Again, Tatem wasn't sure.Maybe he just didn't trust lawyers.

Chapter 48

"I'M FR-FR-FREEZING," says Ernie, his teeth chattering behind puffy purplish-blue lips.We're all freezing. We've been waiting like this for hours, our life jackets truly saving our lives this time. There's no more dog paddle in any of us. We're on empty, physically exhausted.Emotionally, too. A creeping horrible feeling is beginning to take hold of me. Then Carrie puts it into words that none of us want to hear."They're not coming for us, are they?""Of course they are," I a.s.sure everybody. There's obviously been a delay. "The Coast Guard probably had lots of boats to rescue because of the storm. We just have to wait our turn."I only half believe that myself. But to say anything less hopeful to the kids would only scare them, especially Ernie."Come here," I say, pulling him tight against my chest. This is a good idea for all of us, to form a tight circle holding each other and Jake, trying to prevent hypothermia. That's what we'll do next."How's your leg?" Ernie whispers in my ear."Fine," I whisper back. "No problem, bud."I know it's not, though. I'm just not up to dealing with it right now. It's numb as rubber and I'm trying not to think about it.Cla.s.sic case of denial, says the doctor in me. Now I know what so many of my patients must be thinking when I bust their humps about taking better care of their hearts.Can it, Doc!Amen.Besides, I'm far more concerned about Jake.Although his breathing is holding steady, he's barely conscious. Worse, his burns need to be dressed-I'm afraid he's losing too much blood. And plasma. And he is dehydrating fast, too. If that happens, Jake will go into shock and we'll lose him. Ironically, being submersed in the cold water helps with the plasma.One way or another we've got to get out of this water, though. Even in the heat of the afternoon sun the temperature's too low. Come sunset, I'm afraid it won't matter how tightly we're hugging each other-we'll suffer hypothermia."Maybe we can string together a makes.h.i.+ft raft," says Ernie, looking around us. There are still bits and pieces of the boat floating within sight. Not for long, though, given the wind and strong currents."Maybe," I say.Mark chimes in, his voice so raspy I can barely hear him. He echoes me. "Maybe."Wait a minute! That wasn't Mark talking!All at once we turn to Jake, whose head is barely clearing the surface of the water."He's awake!" says Carrie.She's right-and he didn't saymaybe. It sounded more likeMary."Jake, it's me, Katherine," I say. "Can you hear me? Jake?"His lips tremble, struggling to form words. All he can manage is the same one."Mary," he says again."No, Jake, it's me . . . Katherine."His eyes are closed, his face lifeless. Still, the lips are moving. He struggles with a second word."Hail," he mumbles. "Hail . . . Mary."It suddenly clicks and I turn to Mark. "The Hail Mary box!" I say.It's got things we need. The answers to at least some of our prayers.So long as it survived the blast."What color is it?" asks Carrie."Red," I answer."Oh, I think I remember seeing it on the boat," says Ernie.Mark and Carrie immediately decide to go looking for it. They break away in opposite directions, agreeing to swim clockwise.Mark spins his finger. "We'll cover the area in circles, okay?""Got it," says Carrie."Stay close to each other. Please," I call to them.Meanwhile, I try to keep Jake talking. Maybe there's something I can do to ease the pain. It's no use. His lips fall still again."It's okay," I tell him.He's barely conscious, and yet all he needed to help us was two words.Hail Mary.He's still our captain.

Chapter 49

TEN OR SO MINUTES LATER, Carrie's voice cuts through the air. Her jubilation is tempered by sheer exhaustion."I found it!" she yells.I can hardly believe it. h.e.l.l, I can hardly see Carrie. She's got to be over two hundred yards away, and she looks like a black dot out there."I found it!" she yells again. "The Hail Mary box!"Hallelujah! It's a miracle!I call out to Mark, who's about as far away from us as Carrie, only in the opposite direction. He's still searching for the box."Come back," I say. "Carrie found it!"He hears me and begins swimming back, taking his time. Who can blame him? I'm amazed he and his sister can swim even a single stroke at this point. They're both in better physical shape than I'd have thought."Do you think there's any food in that box?" asks Ernie. "Because I'm starving."I think back to when I was searching through it for that mask and snorkel Jake needed. I can't remember seeing anything edible."Let's hope so," I tell him. "We'll be okay, Ernie."We watch as Carrie slowly gets closer.Very slowly. She's dragging the box as best she can, and it can't be easy. As she gets closer, I can see the fatigue etched all over her face. The poor girl, she's absolutely p.o.o.ped!"Carrie, take a break," I yell.Of course she doesn't.I turn to Ernie, kidding. "Typical Carrie. I say one thing, she does the other."Only Ernie's not listening to me either. He's not even looking in my direction. I can't see what he's staring at, but my ears immediately tell me there's a problem.When he was a toddler he used to make this strange clicking noise from the side of his mouth whenever he was scared, only it wasn't loud. The only way anyone else could hear it was if they were really close to him.As I am now."What is it, Ernie? What do you see?""I'm not sure yet," he answers. "It's something, though."He points and I squint. I still can't see it. If Mark is at three o'clock and Carrie at nine, whatever it is-or isn't-is directly at six."Ernie, I don't -"My mouth suddenly freezes. Ido see it now. "OmiG.o.d.Is that what I think it is?"Ernie's clicking faster and louder than he ever has."Yes," he says. "Carrie, look out!Carrie! CARRIE! "

Chapter 50

IT'S NOT THE COAST GUARD here to rescue us, that's for sure.It's a shape, a triangle. Two feet high, darkish gray, and slicing through the water.One terrible word is on my tongue.Shark!"It's coming right for us," says Ernie. "What do we do?"Every muscle in my body, every bone-broken or otherwise-is screaming panic. Panic like there's no tomorrow!But I don't allow this to happen. I have my operating room calm on now."Mom," repeats Ernie."What do we do?""It's what we don't do," I say. "We don't move. Maybe it won't find us.""I think it already has. I'm pretty sure. Look."I glance at Ernie, who's staring down at the water. It's red. Between the blood from my leg and Jake's seeping burns, we've all but set the table for this creature.Great.We both look out again at the fin coming toward us. Actually, make that two fins! There's a smaller one directly behind it, about fifteen feet back. Immediately I think it's a second shark, maybe a baby. But then I realize something worse, even more terrifying. That's no baby-that's the tail fin of the same shark.This mother's a monster!"Mark? Carrie?" I call out.Mark answers first, and there's no need for me to bring him up to speed. He sees exactly what we see. "Holy s.h.i.+t!" he yells. "I'm coming back!""NO!" I yell back. "Stay right there!""But -""No buts! You don't move, do you hear me? You stay where you are."If we're about to be shark lunch, Mark doesn't need to be the dessert."That goes for you too," I yell to Carrie.She's close enough that I can see the fear in her eyes as she stares at the fin. I'm sure her eyes look like mine right now. Small, dark pinpoints.I grab Ernie by his life jacket and pull him so close we're practically touching noses. My broken leg is pulsing with pain, but I don't care. "Okay, here's what we're going to do," I say. "You're going to take Uncle Jake and get behind me."I have to stop talking for a second. Tears are pouring down Ernie's chubby little cheeks."Mom . . ." is all he can say."Mom . . .""Shhhh, it's going to be okay," I whisper. "You have to listen to me now-this is important." I take a breath, and then I go on. "If that shark attacks me, you don't try to help. Do you understand?"I know he doesn't. How could a child comprehend that? He stares at me blankly."Listen to me, Ernie.You don't try to help. You swim away to your brother as fast as you can. All right?""What about Uncle Jake?" he asks, his voice a s.h.i.+ver.I was afraid of that question."You leave him here with me," I answer. "You just focus on swimming away as fast as you can. Now tell me you understand."He doesn't want to answer."TELL ME!" I finally have to yell. I can't help it, I love him too much. I can't let him die with me-no way.He finally nods and I help him grab Jake so they both can get behind me. Ernie's too scared even to cry anymore. He falls silent. We all do. All I can hear is the slap of the water around us.Slish-slosh, ripple-ripple.Slish-slosh, ripple-ripple.I stare at the large fin slicing toward me and I take the deepest breath of my life.I'm hoping against hope it won't be my last.

Chapter 51

CARRIE'S BLUE GAZE ricocheted all around the water. The shark. Her mother. Her brothers. Uncle Jake.The d.a.m.n shark again.Why won't it just go away? Does it sense how defenseless we are? Of course it does, it's a predator.She felt helpless, stuck in limbo. There had to be something she could do, though. What?That's when it hit her-literally.The Hail Mary box.She didn't even realize she'd let go of it until a small swell sent it smack against her head.There would definitely be a b.u.mp later. If there was a later.What mattered was now. Was there something in the box that could help? Maybe?With a frantic burst of energy, Carrie grabbed the latch and snapped it open. Flipping back the lid, she quickly tried to push herself up from the water to look inside.It only half worked. She caught some glimpses-a first-aid kit, some blankets, an inflatable raft-but even tilting the box to her eye level, she couldn't see what was buried underneath.Screw it, just dump everything out!she thought.She thought again. What if some of the stuff didn't float? What if the one thing she could use sank to the bottom before she could grab it?She had no idea what that might be, but the thought was enough to make her try to reach deep into the box instead. She felt around.C'mon! There's got to be something . . .Her hand desperately moved from one item to another. Was that a bottle of water? A flashlight?She glanced over her shoulder as she continued to search. The shark was no more than a hundred yards from her mom and Ernie. Probably less than that.Hurry!Carrie's hand kept blindly jumping from one item to another. Then, with a depressing thud, her fingertips. .h.i.t the bottom of the box. d.a.m.n!Nothing.Her eyes welled up, the frustration pus.h.i.+ng out the tears, when all of a sudden she felt something tucked tight against the rear corner. It was cold. It was metal.It was a gun!She was pretty sure of it. The smooth curve of the trigger gave it away.She yanked as hard as she could. Out came the gun. Only it looked like no gun she'd ever seen. There were large casings attached behind the grip-were those bullets? No, she realized. They were flares. It was a flare gun.Who cares? As long as it fires!She turned back to the shark. Her hand was shaking. So was the rest of her. With her left hand, she tried to steady herself against the Hail Mary box. She'd never pulled the trigger of any gun in her life.She started yelling at the top of her voice and splas.h.i.+ng. Sure enough, the shark turned her way. Was that really such a good idea?I can do this! Just aim it and shoot . . . Just aim and shoot . . .Carrie lined the sight up against the shark, counting back from three . . .Two . . .One . . .She squeezed the trigger.The flare fired, amid a barrage of smoke and sparks so thick she couldn't see a thing.Including the gun dropping from her hand, sinking.She couldn't help it-the sparks had scalded her knuckles. Had the gun malfunctioned? How old were those flares? All she knew was that her hand was practically on fire. "Son of a b.i.t.c.h!" she yelled.And for a couple of seconds her voice was the only sound she heard.Then came another sound.Cheering!All at once Ernie, Mark, and Katherine screamed for joy. As the smoke finally cleared, Carrie saw why.The flare gun had worked, at least well enough. The shark had turned around. It was swimming away. She'd scared the dumb beast.Lunch wouldn't be served after all.At least not here.At least not the Dunnes!

Chapter 52

DEVOUX SAID GOODBYE to Peter Carlyle from the bench near the Manhattan Criminal Courthouse. He walked down the block until he had completely disappeared from Peter's view.Then he turned around.Where to next, Peter? Pray tell.Clients were more than just clients to Devoux. They were an investment. Or, if you really wanted to get down to it, a high-stakes gamble. Big risk, even bigger reward. So naturally one had to keep an eye on them.Carlyle especially.He represented the largest payday yet for Devoux. But it was hardly money for nothing.All things considered, the dirty work was the easy part. Devoux excelled at killing. He was trained for it, had a real knack. Up close, far away, and everywhere in between. The CIA for sure had hated losing him, but there had simply been no alternative. Once you go off the reservation, you can't come back.That's what had led Devoux to Peter in the first place. He wasn't the first covert agent to freelance on the side, nor was he the first to get caught.He was, however, the first to hire a hot-s.h.i.+t attorney who marched straight down to Langley to negotiate a highly cla.s.sified severance package: his client's life in exchange for his silence.It was a deal both sides could live with, because they had no choice.Just to make sure, though, there was a sealed envelope in escrow, hanging in the balance."You hold a lot of my dark secrets," Devoux had told Peter. "Let me know if you'd ever like me to hold on to one of yours. Be my pleasure."Yeah, the dirty work was the easy part for Devoux. It was what came after, post-op, which caused concern in his newly found career.Hoping a client wouldn't f.u.c.k things up, and consequently f.u.c.k him over.In Carlyle's case, the key question was whether he could withstand the media glare, and for how long? Sure, the uber-attorney was a cool customer who was used to intense pressure. But the stakes in a courtroom were one thing. In this game there was a lot more on the line.So for the next twenty minutes Devoux followed Peter as he continued on foot, heading uptown.The guy wasn't really going to walk all the way home to the Upper East Side, was he?No, he wasn't.Near the NYU School of Law, Peter stopped in front of a prewar brownstone with narrow windows. Before climbing up the steep stone steps he glanced to his left and right.Watching from the end of the block, Devoux chuckled.Peter, Peter, Peter . . . are you doing something you shouldn't be? Or someone?Of course he was.Devoux had known it the first time they met and discussed his own case. Peter Carlyle wasn't addicted to money, or s.e.x, or anything of the kind.He was addicted to risk.

Chapter 53

PETER KNOCKED on Bailey's apartment door, all too aware that this would be his first visit that didn't involve their having s.e.x. It certainly wouldn't be for a lack of wanting on his part. It's just that he wanted something else even more.Katherine's estate. The ultimate score. Over $100 million if he survived both her and her obnoxious kids.If that was to happen, he needed to start playing the role of the distressed husband right away. Even with Bailey.Especially with Bailey.She was a bit of a wild card-suddenly part of his life but certainly not part of the plan. h.e.l.l, he hadn't even known her when he concocted this whole thing and made his pact with Devoux.Now that he did know her-and wanted to keep on knowing her-he had to make sure that she saw no connection between him andThe Family Dunne' s disappearance. Like everyone else, she couldn't suspect what a cold-blooded b.a.s.t.a.r.d he was.Peter was about to knock on her door again when he heard that unmistakable New York sound of multiple turning locks. As Bailey opened the door, he prayed that she wouldn't be wearing anything too s.e.xy.A man can possess only so much willpower."Peter, what a wonderful surprise," she said. "I couldn't believe it when you called. I only got back from my last cla.s.s twenty minutes ago."The good news was that she had considerably more clothes on than just her bra and panties. A pair of sweatpants and a Fit T-s.h.i.+rt, in fact. The bad news was that she immediately leaned in to kiss him with those beautiful bee-stung lips. He would have to pull back from her.Just do it, Peter. This isn't the time for s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g."What's wrong?" she asked. "Hey, wait," she said, a slightly confused look overtaking her face. "Today was your jury selection-shouldn't you still be in court?""Something happened," said Peter."That Kincade woman didn't try to run you over too, did she?" she joked, grinning.Peter didn't laugh. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't.What a shame, he thought, because that was actually a pretty funny line. Gorgeous, smart, and a great sense of humor to boot. Bailey Todd had the whole package.After stepping into her apartment, Peter first grabbed a Diet c.o.ke from her fridge. Then he took her through the events of the morning, from Angelica charging into the courtroom to his call with the Coast Guard lieutenant. The conversation with Devoux, of course, was conveniently omitted from his already far too melodramatic storyline.Bailey was stunned, to say the least. She couldn't believe it, had to sit down. She also felt incredibly guilty, and told Peter as much."Why?" he asked."No, forget it. I'm too ashamed.""It's okay, you can tell me anything."She hemmed and hawed and started to blush. Finally: "When you told me your wife's boat was missing, my first thought was that maybe I could have you all to myself. Isn't that horrible? It is. I feel like such a d.i.c.k.""No, it's just very human," he said, reaching out to caress her cheek. "That doesn't make you a bad person.""Really? You don't think so?""No, I don't. You didn't do anything wrong. You're definitely not a d.i.c.k. Besides, I'm sure the Coast Guard will be calling me any minute to tell me they found my family and they're all okay."Peter had barely finished the sentence when his cell phone rang. They both had to smile at the timing."Is it the Coast Guard?" asked Bailey as Peter dug into his suit pocket and took out his phone.He glanced at the caller ID and shook his head. Then he did something odd, at least as far as Bailey was concerned. As the phone continued to ring in his hand, he simply stared at it."Who is it, Peter?" she asked. "You look surprised."He definitely was.

Chapter 54

HOW DID SHE find out so fast?Peter knew he would eventually have to meet the press, as it were, regarding the disappearance ofThe Family Dunne. It was only a matter of time.He just didn't think it would be quite so soon.After listening to one more ring, he finally answered. "What took you so long?" he said sarcastically into the phone.If he had let the call go to his voice mail, he knew she wouldn't be content to leave a message. Instead she'd have one of her attack-dog production a.s.sistants track him down in person. That's how she worked."Peter, I'm so, so sorry," said Judith Fox, host of the number-one daytime cable talk show. "You must be worried sick about your family. I know family comes first for you.""Thank you, Judy. Yes, it's been a very hard day so far."Peter mouthed who it was to Bailey, who immediately looked impressed. Indeed, Judith Fox was a household name, even giving the queen herself, Oprah, a run for her money lately in the ratings.One reason was Judith's uncanny ability to break stories. She was a dogged reporter first and foremost, with a genuine sixth sense for the news. Plus she had the mother of all Rolodexes. She kneweverybody, including Peter.They had first met at an American Bar a.s.sociation party in the ballroom of the Waldorf-Astoria while Judith was still a beat reporter for WNBC. Peter had just successfully defended a big-time rap star on an attempted murder charge and was enjoying his first bite-sized taste of national publicity.Naturally Judith sought him out at the party, and in turn Peter managed to charm the pants off her that night.Panties, too. Which was why she allowed him to call her Judy. For the next year, right up until she launched her cable show from Times Square, the two became what Page Six of theNew York Post referred to as "best friends with benefits." Of course, the merciless bloggers who covered the media had another term for it: "f.u.c.k buddies."Put simply, he and Judith Fox had history. And now she had his ear, and dibs on the story.Counting the seconds in his head, Peter waited for her pitch. For sure, it was coming."You absolutely, positively have to do my show this afternoon," she pleaded. "You must."Peter was about to say no, that it was too soon, when she beat him to the punch."Peter, before you decline and tell me you're still digesting the news, consider this," she continued. "By getting this story out there right away, you ensure that the Coast Guard spares no effort or expense in finding your family. You want that, don't you? Of course you do."The irony was so thick Peter could've choked on it.No, he didn't want that!But the game now was all about appearances, wasn't it? And like it or not, that would mean doing his best acting job onThe Judith Fox Show.h.e.l.l, maybe it was a blessing. The sooner he could expand his role as the worried, emotionally distressed,innocent husband to a wider audience, the better."Sure, Judy, I'll do it," he said. "Anything to help save my family."