The Narrows

taking you to USC to get checked out," he yelled over the roar of the rotor and the rain. "ETA in ten minutes."
    He gave me the okay sign and I gave it back to him, noticing that my ringers were a bluish white and that I was shaking with something more than cold.
    "I'm sorry about your friend," the fireman yelled.
    I saw he was looking down through a glass panel on the lower part of the door he had just slid closed. I leaned over and looked and I could see Backus in the water below. He was faceup and moving languidly in the current*
    "I'm not sorry," I said, but not loud enough to be heard.
    I leaned back on the jump seat they had put me on. I closed my eyes and nodded to the conjured image of my silent partner, Terry McCaleb, smiling and standing in the stern of his boat.

CHAPTER 43
    The skies cleared a couple days later and the city started to dry out and dig out. There had been landslides in Malibu and Topanga. The coast highway was down to two lanes for the foreseeable future. In the Hollywood Hills there had been Hooding in the lower streets. One house on Fareholm Drive had broken free and was washed into the street, leaving an aging movie star homeless. Two deaths were attributed to the storm-a golfer who had inexplicably decided to get in a few holes between bands of the storm and was hit on a backswing by a bolt of lightning, and Robert Backus, the fugitive serial killer. The Poet was dead, the headlines and news anchors said. Backus's body was fished out of the river at the Sepulveda Dam. Cause of death: drowning.
    The seas calmed, too, and I took a morning ferry out to Catalina to see Graciela McCaleb. I rented a golf cart and drove up to the house, where she answered the door and received me with her family. I met Raymond, the adopted son, and Cielo, the girl Terry had told me about. Meeting her made me miss my own daughter and reminded me of the new vulnerability I would soon have in my life.
    The house was filled with boxes and Graciela explained that the storm had delayed their move back to the mainland. In another day their belongings would be shuttled down to a barge and then taken across to the port, where a moving truck would be waiting. It was complicated and expensive but she had no regrets. She wanted to leave the island and the memories it held.
    We went out to the table on the porch so we could talk without the children hearing. It was a nice spot with a view of all of Avalon Harbor. It made it hard to believe she wanted to leave. I could see The Following Sea down there and I noticed there was someone in the stern and that one of the deck hatches was open.
    "Is that Buddy down there?"
    "Yes, he's getting ready to move the boat. The FBI brought it back yesterday without calling ahead. I would have told them to take it to Cabrillo. Now Buddy has to do it."
    "What's he going to do with it?"
    "He's going to continue the business. He'll run the charters from over there and pay me rent on the boat."
    I nodded. It sounded like a decent plan.
    "Selling the boat wouldn't bring that much in. And, I don't know, Terry worked so hard on that boat. It feels wrong to just sell it to a stranger."
    "I understand.'*
    "You know, you could probably get a ride back with Buddy instead of waiting for the ferry. If you want. If you're not sick of Buddy."
    "No, Buddy's fine. I like Buddy."
    We sat in silence for a long moment. I didn't feel I needed to explain anything about the case to her. We had talked on the phone-because I wanted to explain things before it bit the media-and the story had been all over the papers and television. She knew the details, large and small. There was little left to say but I thought I needed to visit with her in person one last time. It had all started with her. I figured'it should end with her as well.
    "Thank you for what you did," Graciela said. "Are you all right?"
    "I'm fine. Just a few scratches and bruises from the river. It was a wild ride."
    I smiled. The only visible injuries I had were scrapes on my hands and one above my left eyebrow.
    "But thank you for calling me. I'm glad I got the chance. That's why I came, just to say thanks and to say good luck with everything."
    The sliding door opened and the little girl came out carrying a book.
    "Mommy, will you read this to me now?"
    "I'm visiting with Mr. Bosch right now. In a little while, okay?"
    "No, I want you to read it now."
    The girl looked like it was a life-or-death request and her face knotted up, ready for a