Purgatory Ridge

Jo saw why. She watched in horror what none of them was able to stop. Karl Lindstrom had turned his head toward his left hand, in which he still held the detonator. Before anyone could prevent him, he squeezed his fingers around the device. A muffled explosion followed, and the Anne Marie shivered as if she’d been kicked.

“You son of a bitch,” Grace yelled.

“I always was a bad loser,” Lindstrom murmured.

LePere danced around Lindstrom and hurried up to the deck. He came back a moment later, looking grim.

“He’s blown a hole in the stern. We’re taking on water.”

“What about the other boat?” Jo said.

LePere shook his head. “The blast blew the tow line free. The other boat’s gone. I can’t even see it.”

“Don’t you have life vests?” Grace asked.

“In the deckhouse,” LePere said. “Let’s clear this cabin. I have to get into that storage compartment. I keep an inflatable raft there. Hurry. We don’t have much time.”

“Take Stevie up, Grace. I’ll help Cork.”

“You’re not strong enough,” LePere told her. “You get the raft. I’ll take your husband.” He lifted Cork in his arms and started up the steps behind the others.

Jo found the rolled, yellow rubber raft and two small oars where LePere had indicated. By the time she’d grabbed the items, water ran down the companionway and lay several inches deep in the cabin.

Lindstrom rolled to his back and said in a wet, bubbly voice, “Help me.”

“Ask God, not me.” Jo didn’t even pause as she stepped over him and headed topside.

Without power or guidance, the boat had turned broadside to the wind, and it tilted dangerously as it rode up the waves and rolled into the troughs. Jo struggled through the deckhouse toward the stern doorway, the shifting angle of the boat throwing her off balance at every step. LePere shouted into the radio mike at the helm station, “Mayday. Mayday. Mayday. This is the Anne Marie. We have a damaged hull and are sinking fast.” He repeated the message several times, giving the coordinates, then abandoned the radio and helped Jo with the raft and oars. They skirted Bridger, who lay facedown in the water that sloshed in the deckhouse, two bloodstains merging across the back of his shirt.

Outside, the cockpit was awash with water calf deep. With both hands, Scott was holding tightly to the railing of the ladder that led up to the flying bridge. He wore an orange life vest that was too big for him. Beside Scott, Grace held herself to the ladder with one hand and held to Stevie with the other. Stevie, too, wore a big life vest. One more vest was draped across the ladder. Cork sat alone, propped against the side of the boat. Jo could see damage to the stern railing, and the list of the Anne Marie was becoming more obvious by the moment.

LePere cut the rope that held the raft in a roll, and he pulled the cord to open the air valve. The raft inflated quickly.

Jo saw immediately it was too small. “We won’t fit,” she screamed, beginning to lose control. She’d held herself together for so long that she felt utterly exhausted, ready to give in to panic.

“The two of you.” LePere pointed to Jo and Grace. “And the boys. You can fit.”

“I’m not leaving Cork.”

“He can’t help you.”

“I’m not leaving him,” Jo shouted at LePere. She looked toward her husband. He was flopping like a rag doll as the waves pitched the Anne Marie about. Even so, it was obvious that the shake of his head was intentional. He was telling Jo no.

She knelt beside him. “I can’t go without you.”

She had to lean very near to hear his answer.

“You have to,” he said.

“How can I leave you, Cork?”

“We’ll never leave each other.” He nodded toward where Stevie stood, held steady by Grace Fitzgerald. “Get our son home safely. Do that for me. Promise.”

Although rain ran in rivers down her face, it wasn’t the rain that made her eyes blur. “Cork-”

“No time. Promise,” he insisted.

She yielded. “I promise.”

“I love you,” he whispered against her cheek.

“I love you,” she whispered back. She couldn’t say good-bye, couldn’t manage any more words at all. She kissed him, kissed him just that once, then she turned away.

LePere held the third vest out to Grace and Jo. “It’s the last one I have. Who wears it?”

“You,” Grace said to him.

“It won’t do me any good. In this lake, I’d just freeze to death.”

“Then could you put it on my husband?” Jo asked LePere. “I don’t want to lose him forever.”

She looked to Grace, who seemed to understand her purpose. Bodies without life vests did not float in Lake Superior. The lake didn’t give up its dead. Grace nodded her assent.

“Into the raft,” LePere shouted. Then, “Wait.” He went into the deckhouse and came back with a small compass that he gave to Jo. “Hold a northwest heading, into the wind.”

Jo put her arms briefly around the man. “Thank you.”

“God be with you,” he said and pushed her toward the raft.