PROLOGUE

The lake was dark and the waves calm, unlike the thoughts of the boy who watched the setting sun from the cabin window. He didn't want to sleep. It could have been excitement, that energy that comes when a promised adventure awaits, but Roman knew it was something else. When he looked at the boat, bobbing up and down next to the pier just yards from his window, he wanted to run. When he closed his eyes, all he felt was cold. Fear clawed at his belly.

From where he stood, Roman could still see the shadow of the mast, a long finger pointed to the sky. It seemed to taunt him, with its patient and calm movements, although his logical mind knew that was impossible. The catamaran was built for a party. He was a good swimmer. There was no reason to believe that tomorrow this boat would do anything other than provide him, his father, and twin sister with an entertaining afternoon. That's what boats were for.

His father had promised.

They'd come to the lake to forget. The death of his mother was never far from his thoughts and Roman wished, in that way children do, for her to come and tuck him into bed. He'd wished for many things over the last months. God didn't seem to be listening. Now, all he wanted was to stay awake, but he yawned. Tired from the days journey he could barely keep his eyes open to stare at the view. Somehow he thought it was important. To wait. To stare. To discover.

"It's just a boat," Roman said to himself. The sound of his own voice should have been comforting. It wasn't. The silence only reminded him how alone he was.

With a frown he turned away. There was nothing to fear. Tomorrow they would go out, tour the lake, visit the island.

And he was right. The three of them would spend time together, like they used to.

Trouble was, only two of them came back.

CHAPTER 1

"It's him, it has to be."

Roman Kennedy whispered the fateful words to himself as he watched the back of the gray haired man slip away into the crowd. The certainty of his conclusion was striking. For years he had searched for Lyle Kennedy and here, on a small Caribbean island, it appeared his quest had unexpectedly ended.

Raising a hand, as though the wave would stop the retreating figure, Roman finally found his voice. "Dad!" he shouted, only to realize that he had lost sight of the stranger amongst the other people that milled about on the street. For stranger he was; Roman at twenty-four, had not seen his parent for more than twelve years.

Finding the energy to move, Roman trotted forward, following the path he hoped the other man had taken through the bustling marketplace. His blue eyes rapidly scanned the people. They were all busy, bartering for colorful items from the selection of tourist merchandise. Snippets of Spanish, French, and English bounced off his ears as he vainly searched for the one he was desperate to speak to if only for a moment.

So you can explain why you left me...

In a few blocks the marketplace gave way to the harbor. Roman's steps slowed, and the crowd thinned. Tiny sail boats graced the water of the bay. A few motor boats awaited the opportunity to offer service to the fisherman or diver. Shielding his eyes against the 100 degree tropical sun, Roman finally saw the older man again as he untied a motor boat and started the engine.

In profile, Roman recognized the same long, thin nose, and lean jaw that stared back at him in the mirror each morning. Although his hair was gray to Roman's brown, it was still thick and wavy. Convinced more than ever, Roman closed the distance at a run, just as the speedboat started to pull away from the floating pontoon.

"Dad!" he shouted again. But the sound either didn't carry or was ignored. Roman hated to consider the second possibility, but his heart beat too fast for reflection. Skidding to a stop on the wooden pier, he watched helplessly as the small boat sped off into the ocean to destination unknown.

Looking around, Roman grabbed the arm of another man who stood on a pier. Dressed for boating, he assumed the other was a local vendor, perhaps a fisherman. "Please help me - do you know that man who just left?" By way of explanation he pointed in the direction of the rapidly disappearing boat.

A lazy smile returned Roman's breathless greeting. "Sure, that was Terrance Carmichael," the man said.

Roman blinked. Carmichael had been his mother's maiden name.

"Where did he go?" Roman asked.

The stranger answered the question, although his smile started to fade. "I don't know - can't read his mind. He comes in about once a month, buys supplies and then heads back to his island. Keeps to himself, and pays his bills. I don't meddle in things that aren't my business."

"Sorry," Roman mumbled. Realizing he still held the stranger’s arm, Roman released his grip, letting his hand fall to his side.

He couldn't wait a month to find out if this odd sighting of a man who looked like his missing father was significant. A tourist, he was only on Belize on vacation. In less than a week Roman was expected in New York for a new job at a newspaper. His boss would not wait for him to pursue the mystery. He had already lost three jobs over the years for random goose chases and he vowed not to lose another.

But this…

Looking around the docks, Roman tried to form some sort of plan. "Excuse me," he said, pursing the friendly man who had offered the best lead in his desperate search in many years. "How can I get to this island you mentioned?"

With a long suffering sigh, the tan merchant replied, "By boat obviously." With a smirk he continued, "But it's not part of the regular ferry service. It's a private island called Coco Cay."

"Can you take me there? I'll pay you."

The other man stopped in his departure preparations and stared at Roman. "Sorry," the man explained, "I don't do charters; you might be able to ask Gina." With a jerk of his head he indicated a small shack that stood next to several others and displayed a wooden plaque proclaiming the business within ‘Daylight Discovery.’ The structure was painted a festive blue indicating that someone took pride in the humble shack, even if it was likely to collapse in the next hurricane.

"Gina?" Roman repeated, as he helplessly watched the fountain of information board his boat, and throw the tow rope back ashore. Turning back, he noticed there was indeed a woman inside the building although he could barely make out her form through the glass. A shiver ran up his spine and Roman wondered why he was reluctant to approach her.

"She doesn't bite!" the other man hollered in a parting shot.

Behind Roman the sound of a boat motor slowly faded as his earlier guide went off into the ocean about his business. The absence of the soft purr left the writer feeling strangely alone.

As fate would have it, the topic of his thoughts chose that moment to emerge from inside the building. The screen door opened, and then flapped shut rattling the signage. This Gina didn't look like a typical sailor, causing Roman’s blue eyes to narrow slightly. As he watched, her sandy blond hair danced and mingled with the sea breeze. She looked fit and tidy, her white shorts and blue blouse color coordinated with the painted structure behind her. Apparently though, she sensed strange eyes upon her and turned, searching for the source.

The woman waved, and offered a, "Hey-- you looking for something?"

The choice of words struck a chord with Roman. Truth. Hillary, his twin sister, gave up the quest for answers, but Roman continued to look. Mentally he rolled his eyes, anticipating her reaction to this latest development, this latest chase into the unknown. And on a boat no less.

The woman standing before him seemed friendly, her smile genuine, but Roman felt strangely self conscious. He hadn’t planned to be at the harbor. Looking about, Roman secretly hoped that she posed her question to some other potential patron, but he was alone on the wooden pier. Sheepishly he grinned, and ran one hand through his hair again in a traditional nervous gesture. Taking a few steps he closed the gap between them.

Roman replied, “I guess so. I want to get to Coco Cay.”

For one moment after he spoke, the wind seemed to pick up in speed just a tiny bit, and the smile on the blonde’s face faltered as he mentioned where he desired to go. A frown settled on her pretty features as she glanced to the boat slips on the pier. Maybe she was trying to see what held his interest.

"Coco Cay, huh?" she finally said, "I'm afraid I only go that direction twice a week." She hedged and seemed to debate saying more. Then her expression turned neutral, and conscious business sense returned. Smile falsely bright, she said, "I could take you early tomorrow, though - and for the best price in all of Belize. How many are boarding?"

Roman felt a similar sense of unrest. Delay could mean that this Terrance Carmichael, as he called himself, could go off island, or perhaps word would reach him of Roman's interest. Anything could happen during the night. Slowly, sanity and acceptance returned. He would need to share this news with his sister Hillary, and her boyfriend Miles, who were here in San Pedro with him. He had waited twelve years; he could wait another day.

The woman then extended out her hand and introduced herself. "I'm Gina Svensson."

"My name is Roman Kennedy," he replied, taking her delicate hand in his. He offered a brief, but firm handshake. "Consider it a contract."

Anticipating success in explaining the situation to his fellow travelers Roman continued, "There will be three of us." He hesitated over the number. Would it be bad luck to tempt fate again? Then he realized they would need a crew - there would be at least four on the boat tomorrow. Pushing aside bad memories, Roman said, "But you'd better define early. I'm not the friendliest person before coffee."

She laughed at his last comment. There was hardly anyone around the island who was not a morning person. Almost every business in town depended on tourists and even if some of them woke up after noon, as business owners early preparation was the best option. Turning, Gina urged Roman into the shack. He preceded her through the door, and took a second to look around as she followed behind. The humble wooden structure was clean and orderly like most of the businesses that catered to tourists. He wandered over to one framed water color that hung on the east wall.

"Early means five in the morning so we can get everything on the boat. I usually like to be out of here as the sun is rising. Allows for you to enjoy your destination to the max in daylight before the sun sets." Positioning herself behind the counter, she pulled out the various forms from underneath and pushed them across the flat surface. "We can fill out the paperwork now and be rid of that step tomorrow."

Roman was not listening to Gina. He continued to stare at the painting. After nearly a minute of admiring the seascape, he turned his back on the art and approached Gina who patiently awaited his signature at the counter. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Roman swiveled his head, back to the canvas. Where he got the impression that it was somehow important to look again, he couldn't tell, but he followed the impulse for just a moment before he realized that there really was nothing unusual to see.

His mind fought to focus on the words Gina had said, "Uh sure," he mumbled, accepting her reason for doing the paperwork now and the plan for the following morning.

Roman hated the water. Until the moment that Gina had mentioned the imposing darkness, Roman had not considered his own fears. "Yes, daylight would be better," he noted factually.

Gina handed him the pen, saying, "I don't particularly like to sail around at night mostly for the comfort of the patrons. The sea is quite imposing when everything looks black. Mingles with the sky and all that."

He studied the written contract as she shared the fee schedule. One passenger, or three, the cost didn't appear to differ. On that Roman was relieved. Hillary should come, but she was unpredictable and this way he didn't have to explain that he had charted a boat without her consent. One thing his twin hated was someone making decisions for her.

"Everything looks fine," Roman offered. Having no frame of reference he simply assumed in his trusting manner that price was fair and the condition of cash, standard. Taking a pen he signed the two pages she requested, handing the yellow carbon copy across the counter into her waiting hand. "I'll bring the payment in the morning."

Reluctant to leave, Roman lingered for a moment. His eyes strayed once again to the painting; then with a shrug he returned his focus to Gina. "Are you sure I can't convince you to leave now?"

"Really? Now? You wouldn't want to visit Coco Cay at night. The beauty of it is in the sun," she offered. “Why are you so eager to go?”

“I heard about it, and I’m curious.” Roman replied.

“It’s not exactly on the tourist map.”

“Is it a private island?”

“No, but there is a public stretch of beach.” Her brow furrowed together as she explained, “There are better beaches.”

“I want to visit this beach.” It was as simple as that, so Roman ended the conversation. “So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

If Gina had anything to add, she kept it to herself. For a minute, Roman debated about shaking her hand again in a formal exit, then changed his mind. Back stiff, he pushed open the glass door, deliberately avoiding another look at the art that hung on the wall. He returned to the boardwalk and the slowly fading sunshine. Looking out over the blue ocean, he focused on stepping one foot in front of the other, his feet heavy as he walked away from the harbor and towards the hotel. The man who could be his father did not reappear, the boat long gone towards the horizon.

‘And if he showed up right now - what would you say?’ he questioned silently. Walking on, Roman was suddenly glad, he, a lover of words, had twelve hours to plan.