Jack Beale 00 - Killer Run

past motels and small strip malls back to the river. The closer he came, the older and more historic the homes and buildings. New luxury hotels, restaurants, shops, and expensive condos now lined the river where once there had been only warehouses, piers, and the more seedy elements common to working waterfronts all over the world. He made one final turn. Straight ahead he spotted a large ship offloading salt in anticipation of the coming winter.
    Mesmerized, he parked and sat watching that large ship discharge its cargo. It was probably a combination of hunger, fatigue, and his own demons, but as he closed his eyes he was transported back to a time when his family had been waiting for their ship to arrive and fill their warehouses as well as their coffers. He could feel it, taste it, hear it, and smell it. It didn’t matter that his family had lived in another city, in another state, in another century.
    The sound of ships’ whistles and horns brought him back to the present. Something was happening on the river, but because of the offloading ship, his view of the water was limited to a small gap behind the ship. Amid another chorus of toots and whistles, he finally saw the stack of a tug glide by, followed shortly by another ship heading upriver.
    The cloud cover made it feel later than it was, and streetlights began to come on even though there was still some time before the sun was due to set. The cold dampness outside began to creep into his truck and he shivered. He started his truck’s engine and continued watching until he felt heat. It was time to go.
    Alfred followed the maze of one-way streets until he found himself by a park overlooking the river. A sign proclaimed that he had reached Strawbery Banke, the oldest area in Portsmouth. There was a large common surrounded by carefully restored homes and businesses that re-created Portsmouth as it was two hundred years ago. He could feel that past in every fiber of his being. Across the river from the park he saw the Navy Yard, its lights creating a soft, reflected glow off the low clouds above while they twinkled in the dark ribbon that was the river. He drove slowly through the ever more narrow streets. The houses were so close together that they seemed to be set almost on top of each other.
    His stomach grumbled. He still hadn’t eaten, but he drove on. At the old cemetery, he turned left. A sign confirmed that he was still heading for Rye Harbor. “Of course,” he said to himself, and he smiled. The invisible hand of fate seemed to be guiding him.
    As he drove along, he looked left, out over the Atlantic Ocean. Save for the tiny cluster of rocks, barely visible in the gloom, that were the Isles of Shoals, he saw only emptiness. That was the moment when the setting sun dipped below the low clouds and daylight returned to the world. The Isles of Shoals, which only moments before had been dark, lifeless shapes, suddenly lit up as if consumed by flames. Those rays of light reflected red, orange, and silver, off of anything on the islands that they hit.
    Alfred wasn’t the only one to pull off the road to watch daylight’s last gasp before it succumbed to the night. Six other vehicles had also stopped in the overlook. Each parked facing the spectacle. People were getting out of their cars to watch, and Alfred joined them. The cold east wind, which had made the day so raw and bone chilling, hadn’t relented. He hunched his shoulders and pulled his coat close as if that could ward off the biting wind. A tear ran down his cheek. Had the bystanders noticed, they would have assumed that it was caused by the cold wind in his face. But Alfred was reliving in his mind once again those events that had destroyed his family. What he saw was their ship, just arrived, burning at anchor.
    “Beautiful, isn’t it?” a high, raspy voice startled him.
    Alfred was jarred out of his trance-like state. “Uh,” he said as he looked toward where the voice came from. What he saw was a diminutive, older woman. She was wearing dark green wool pants tucked into leather hiking boots, a navy blue pea coat, and a watch cap pulled down tightly over her head. Bright twinkly eyes peered up at him from her weathered face and even though the strap was around her neck, she was holding onto the largest pair of binoculars he had ever seen.
    She motioned toward the now dimming light that had bathed the Isles. “Pretty, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, yes, it was,” said Alfred. He was a bit