And Mom, well, forget about it. We'd already be halfway to Saskatchewan by now.

“What if they get suspicious and start hassling you?” I asked Shelly.

“Why would they? Think about it from Dusty's point of view. Why would I come back to work for him if I knew he and Luno were mixed up in Lice's death? Heck, I'd have to be suicidal, right?” Shelly winked. “Naw, Dusty bought the whole sad story. He thinks I wanted my job back just because Lice left me broke. And I'll be honest, the money's not too shabby.”

Dad stood up and started pacing back and forth.

“Well, I'd better be off,” Shelly said.

“How are things going with Dusty?” I asked.

“Oh, don't worry about that. He's under control.”

“You be careful,” my father told her.

“Yeah, well, don't go sinkin' that boat again,” Shelly said, “especially if I'm on it.”

Then she said goodbye and breezed out the door, leaving us in silence with a light sweet scent of tangerines.

That night Abbey barely touched her dinner. She said she didn't feel well and asked to go to bed early.

Mom tucked her in and returned to the table. “I think your sister's got a touch of the flu. Are you feeling all right?”

“Fine,” I said.

“Paine?”

“Never better,” said my father.

“Did you call the taxi company?” Mom asked.

“Tomorrow. I promise,” Dad said. He was supposed to make sure that they were holding his job for him.

“Actually, I was thinking of trying to get my captain's license back,” he said matter-of-factly, “so I could guide in the backcountry again.”

My mother put down her fork. “You can't be serious.”

“Well, why not?”

“After what you did to the casino boat, you honestly believe the Coast Guard will let you take customers back out on the water?” she said. “Honey, you'll be lucky to get your cab back.”

Dad stabbed at a green bean and let the subject drop.

“Somebody from the Herald phoned while you were in the shower,” Mom said. “I explained that you won't be giving any more interviews. Right?”

“Yeah,” my father mumbled. One of the conditions for Dusty Muleman dropping the criminal charges was that Dad stop ranting to the press.

“You know, he's started flushing his holding tanks again,” Dad said. “It's true. Ask Noah.”

Mom looked at me, then back at my father. “How do you know this?”

“We've got our sources,” Dad said mysteriously.

“Someone who works on the Coral Queen,” I added.

“I see,” my mother said. “Then this ‘source' of yours should go straight to the authorities and make a report. That's the way it's supposed to be done. Noah, please pass the rice.”

“But Dusty's got connections with the Coast Guard and the cops,” Dad complained. “They won't do diddly unless somebody catches him red-handed.”

“And maybe somebody will,” said Mom, “but whoever that ‘somebody' is, they don't live in this house. I've made my last visit to the jailhouse, is that understood?”

That night I couldn't sleep, so I dug out a stack of old skateboarding magazines. It was real late, well past midnight, when Mom peeked into my room and saw that I was still awake. She sat down on the bed and told me she was sorry that dinner had gotten a little tense. Everything would get back to normal, she said, once Dad's legal problems were over and he was working again.

It took every ounce of courage, but I had to ask: “Did you mean what you said to Grandma Janet about a divorce?”

Mom took a short breath and pressed her lips together. “You heard me on the phone that night? I'm so sorry, Noah-I was extremely upset…”

I could tell she wanted to give me one of those big smothering hugs, like she used to do when I was small. This time, though, all she did was reach over and touch my hand.

“Your father is a very unusual and intense personality,” she said, “as I'm sure you've noticed. I love him dearly, but sometimes he drives me bananas. More than sometimes, truthfully.”

“I know, Mom.”

“Look, I understand that he gets terribly upset by certain things he sees in this world-greed and injustice and cruelty to nature. That's one of the things that first attracted me, seeing how deeply he cared. But he's a grown man,” my mother said, “and he needs to start behaving like one. I don't care to be married to a jailbird.”

“So you were serious,” I said.

“I'd never bluff about something like divorce. It wouldn't be fair to you and Abbey.”

I didn't need to tell Mom how worried we both were. She knew.

“Speaking of your sister,” she said, “I'd better peek in and see how she's feeling.”

I said good night and turned out the light and pulled the covers up to my neck. I heard Mom open Abbey's door and say her name. Abbey didn't answer, so I figured she was already asleep.

But then Mom started calling out for my father in a voice that didn't even sound like hers, it was so choked up. Dad came running down the hall from one direction, and I came running from the other.

When we entered Abbey's room, my mother was standing there with tears in her eyes. Her knuckles were pale and pressed to her cheeks, and her shoulders trembled.

“She's gone!” Mom cried. “Abbey's gone!”

My sister's bed was empty. The window was wide open, and the screen, which had been removed, was propped against the bedroom wall.

“Okay, everybody take it easy,” Dad urged. I could tell he was trying to calm himself, as much as me and my mother.

He tried to wrap his arms around Mom but she jerked away. “Somebody kidnapped her, Paine! Somebody broke in and took her!”

“No, Mom, nobody took her,” I said.

“How do you know? How?”

What could I say? Sometimes I sneak out my bedroom window late at night to go bridge fishing or crabbing with Thom and Rado. One time I got back and Abbey was hiding in my room, watching me as I climbed in through the window and put back the screen. She never ratted me out to my parents, but obviously she'd remembered the trick.

“A kidnapper wouldn't bother to stack the screen against the wall,” I pointed out. “He'd just cut his way through with a knife.”

“Noah's absolutely right,” Dad said. “This is way too neat and tidy. It's pure Abbey.”

Mom wiped her eyes on my father's sleeve. “So what you're saying is, she ran away? Why in the world would she do that?”

“I don't think Abbey ran away,” I said.

“Noah, get to the point.”

“She probably just had something she needed to do.”

“In the middle of the night? All by herself?” My mother turned to my father and froze him with one of her deadly laser-beam stares. “Paine, what's going on here?”

“I'll be right back,” Dad said, and rushed out of the room.

Mom spun back toward me and snatched me by the left ear.

“Young man?” she said.

She never called me “young man” unless she meant business.

“Yes, Mom?” I was almost sure that I knew where Abbey had gone. And I had a feeling that Dad had figured it out, too.

“Does this have something to do with the Coral Queen?” my mother asked.

“It's possible,” I said weakly.

“Has this whole family gone completely insane?” She let go of my ear and called out: “Paine! You come back here right this second!”

Moments later Dad appeared at the bedroom door. He had put on a ball cap, a pair of khaki trousers, and his old deck shoes. In one hand was the portable spotlight that he kept stowed on the skiff.

“Where do you think you're going?” Mom demanded.

“The video camera is missing,” my father said.

“Answer my question. Where are you going?”

“To find Abbey,” Dad replied evenly.

“Paine, you're under house arrest. Remember?”

My father sheepishly pulled up the right leg of his pants to reveal a bare ankle.