Chapter Thirty Four The Charcoal Trace
The island air was thick with the scent of blooming hibiscus and the salt of the deep ocean. I sat on the veranda and watched the supply boat pull away from the dock. The wake of the engine was a white scar on the blue water that slowly faded until the horizon was smooth again. I felt a cold shiver despite the tropical heat. The small scrap of paper was gone. It was a ghost in the hand of a man I did not know. I was gambling my life on a stranger and a charcoal pencil.
Alexander walked up the stone steps from the beach. He was carrying Chase on his shoulders and the boy was clutching a handful of broken seashells. They looked like a picture of a perfect family from a travel magazine. Alexander was tanned and his hair was messy from the wind. He look
