Carlos cocked his head toward the transom. “Would Darryl know that trick?”

“I’m sure he has knowledge of anything that’s illegal, unethical, or just plain mean. But would he take a chance like that with a cop, given what surely must be a prior record?”

Carlos nodded. “Good point, which raises the next question: Who all had access to this boat before we set out on the lake?”

I thought about Rabe, lurking by the dock the day I talked to Darryl. I hoped Carlos’ answer implicated Darryl instead of his stepson.

“My money’s on Darryl,” I said, remembering how his black eyes had glittered with cruelty. “And speaking of predators …”

I pointed to the lake. A big gator glided by, head atop the water, powerful tail moving to and fro under the surface. The distance from eyes to snout tip was at least a foot.

“¡Dios mío! That’s a monster.”

“Twelve feet, at least,” I agreed.

Carlos swallowed hard. “What if he’d been swimming by a few minutes earlier?”

“Well, he wasn’t,” I said. “We were lucky.”

His eyes got a faraway look. “Just like I was lucky before.”

I didn’t want to push him. But my curiosity was growing. And he had brought it up.

“What do you mean, ‘before’ ?” I asked.

He took so long to answer, I thought maybe the wind had swallowed my question.

“Mi hermano.” His voice was so soft, I had to lean in to hear him. “My brother.”

Goosebumps rose on my arms, and not just because I was still half-soaked.

“He drowned,” Carlos said.

“When?”

“A long time ago. He was seven. I was four. We’d gone to the coast.”

His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. He stared at the horizon.

“My brother didn’t want to take our uncle’s little boat into the ocean. But I begged to get closer to the dolphins we’d seen swimming offshore.”

Carlos’ gaze moved across the lake. Was he seeing those long-ago dolphins frolicking? What else did he see in that endless water?

“My brother wasn’t like other older brothers. He never picked on me, or bossed. He was happiest when he could make me happy. I remember him frowning up at these big, dark clouds forming in the sky. But I wanted to catch up to those dolphins so badly, I cried …”

His voice faded. He shook his head.

“The weather changed?”

He nodded. “The rain fell so hard, it felt like needles piercing the skin on my bare arms. And it was cold. Which is strange, because Cuba was always warm. My teeth chattered. Waves kept sloshing into the boat; my feet were soaked. I complained I was freezing. My brother stood up to look for a towel, or anything dry.”

Lifting a hand over his face, he pinched the bridge of his nose. It was as if he wanted to force the memories far back into his mind again.

“I’m so sorry, Carlos.”

When he spoke again, he sounded emotionless, like an expert testifying in court. “A big wave hit, and knocked Raul off balance. Before I could make a move, he’d fallen over the side. He must have banged his head as he went over. It seemed like it happened so fast. Raul could swim, but I couldn’t. I was afraid to jump in. But I kept watching, calling his name. He never surfaced. And the waves kept sloshing over the sides of the boat.”

I pictured Carlos as a four-year-old: Drenched. Frightened. Watching the water rise in the boat. My heart nearly burst.

“I kept praying for the dolphins to rescue him, to swim him to safety.”

His voice was barely a whisper. I took a step closer. “How’d you get to shore?”

“Some fishermen were coming in, running from the storm. They saw me alone in this nearly sunken boat, out there in the ocean. I told them Raul had fallen in. They looked for him, but I’d already drifted from where he went under. His body was never found.”

He stared into the sky, watching a big cloud. Then he spoke again. “I’m not even sure why I jumped over today. I was afraid of the water, but I was even more scared the boat would sink. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Pure panic never does. I wasn’t sure how to comfort him. What would Marty say? I moved closer and put a hand to his cheek. He leaned his face into my hand, resting it there for a moment. When he pulled away to look at me, his eyes shone darkly with guilt and pain and unshed tears.

I brought my mouth to his ear and whispered, “It wasn’t your fault. You were just kids.”

“That’s what everyone told me. But I heard the talk. I noticed how people stared. I watched my mother turn away. Her grief over Raul was so strong, she could barely stand to look at me.”

I thought of the close relationship between Carlos and his grandmother, and the fact he rarely spoke of his mother. And once, when I’d asked, he said he had no siblings. My mama might drive me crazy, but I couldn’t imagine my life without her, or my sisters.

“Was it just the two of you?”

A short nod. “I must have wished a million times to take back those five minutes on the shore, when I begged him to go. I’ve hated boats ever since.”

I felt my face burn over my stupid jibes. Had I really sung the Gilligan’s Island song?

The rise of the dike was clear in the distance.

“We’re getting close to Darryl’s camp,” I said.

He cleared his throat. “Thanks for listening, Mace. You’ve always been easy to talk to.”

“I just wish I could wave a wand to give you a do-over of that day.”

“Me, too.” His smile was tinged with sadness. “You would have liked Raul. He was kind and gentle. Much nicer than me.”

I smiled at him. “Oh, I don’t know, Carlos. I happen to think you’re pretty nice.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Really? As nice as Tony Ciancio with his Rolex watch and sailboat tan?”

“Nicer, in fact.” I touched his cheek. “And you’ve got a pretty good tan yourself.”

Now that the color had returned to his face, his skin looked yummy, like butterscotch toffee. I had the urge to lean over and taste it.

He laid his palm over mine, pressing my hand against his face. Then he turned his head ever so slightly, just enough for his lips to meet my open palm. When they did, what felt like an electrical current jolted me clear down to my bare feet.

“Hmmm,” I said. “That’s nice.”

“It’s been a while for us, hasn’t it?”

“Too long.”

“How much time before we get back to the camp?”

“Too much,” I murmured.

Our eyes met. My heart pattered. What had I been doing, playing around? This was the man I wanted. And I wanted him right now.

He gestured to his soaking-wet slacks, which showed each muscle and bulge quite clearly. “Do you think they’ll let us use a cabin when we get back to the camp? Maybe clean up and dry off?”

I concocted a fantasy of Carlos and me in the shower, working one another into a lather. As a lascivious grin spread across my face, I wondered: Did I look as predatory as that big gator?

I was studying the shade of purple on Betty Taylor’s front door, trying to determine if it occurred anywhere in nature, when Maddie answered the bell.

“Why are you so late? Mama is madder than a box of frogs!” She wrinkled her nose. “And what is that stench? You smell like something they left behind in the cast net.”

Maddie’s eyes moved from my head to my feet.

“Those boots are soaking wet, Mace! Betty’ll throw a fit. She just had her lavender carpet cleaned for Mama’s bridal shower. You better strip off those stinking things before you come inside.”