Page 78 of Bishop's Flight
Carwyn tried to get the conversation back on track. “So if there was no documentation on the vessel, you don’t know what type it was or the registration number or—”
“Oh, I know what type it was.” Gayle’s husband piped up from the back of the room. “Gorgeous thing. It had to be at least sixty-five feet. Maybe seventy? Newish. Maybe 2005 or later. Pretty sure it was a Summerland.”
Carwyn and Bernard exchanged a look.
“So you saw it?” Bernard asked.
“Oh yeah. Gary had a barbecue a while back, was showing it off to everyone.” The man wrinkled his forehead. “Can’t remember what the name was. Dutch something. It was weird. Dutch Folly. Going Dutch.” He shrugged. “Can’t remember that bit.”
Carwyn stood. “Mr. Pickman, I don’t suppose you remember where he was going to dock it, do you?”
“I remember that part,” Gayle said. “Only place around here people dock houseboats. Callville Bay on Lake Mead. He had me looking into slips there, but then he dropped it. Not sure why. You want to find that houseboat? I’m sure it’ll be somewhere around Callville Bay.”
Twenty-Four
“Do you like being a vampire?”
It had been hours of searching the room for weaknesses, and Brigid was losing her patience.
She flexed her hands. “What kinda question is that?”
Lucas was lying on the bed, staring at the blank white ceiling overhead. “I’m just curious.”
She’d been experimenting with heating her hands and directing fire to try to melt the door lock, but they’d put some kind of sensor on it. As soon as it reached a certain degree, a cold blast of air filled the room and quenched the door.
She was getting frustrated and snappy. “I’m not happy or sad. It just is.”
“That’s a weird answer.”
“Why is that weird?” She stepped away from the door so she didn’t lose her cool and explode. “I am what I am. I could moan and cry about my human life being lost or about how I miss the sun or how I hate having to drink blood, but that won’t change the fact that all those things are my life now. Useless to complain about them.”
“I thought blood tasted good to vampires.”
Brigid considered the question. “It tastes… satisfying. Taste is different when you’re immortal. All your senses are elevated, so—”
“Is that why your voice is so soft?”
“D’ya ever let people finish answers? Or d’ya just jump in and ask the next question?”
Lucas stared at the opposite wall, evidently bored with the company and the conversation. “I can usually guess what people are going to say by the way they start their sentence, so it’s boring to have to listen to them spell out all the details.”
Brigid turned back to the door. “You really think you’re smart, don’tcha?”
“I am. I took a lot of tests when I was younger and I’m a genius. Diagnosed.”
Despite his attitude, the corner of her mouth turned up. “You saydiagnosedlike it’s a disease.”
“It kind of is.”
Brigid looked over her shoulder. Lucas had shifted on the narrow bed and drawn his knees up into his chest. He was staring at his sock-clad feet as he spoke.
“It’s hard to make friends when you’re smart. I used to think that being smart would mean that people would like me when I went to regular school. Like when you’re really good in sports and score a goal, that’s a good thing. People cheer for you.”
Brigid knew where this was going. “But not when you’re smart in school.”
“No.” Lucas shook his head. “At first that was really confusing. Then I realized why.”
“Why?”
