Ill Be Waiting

Atlantic Ocean The group of seagulls found their way back to the boat. Christopher lay on his back on the bow and looked up at the infinite baby blue sky. He watched the circling gulls and wondered it would feel to be a bird-soaring high and free. Hell, any kind of bird would do, he mused. No mortgage, no taxes, no money problems-and no maniac stalking your life. The only real concern would be where to crap.

He rolled onto his side and listened as the waves lapped against the side of the boat. He could not remember a time in his life when he had felt more useless. He was a man in trouble, his married life was on the rocks, and his daughter was slowly turning into a stranger before his very eyes. Yet where was he? Floating around on the ocean's surface like a useless clump of lint and doing absolutely no good at all to anyone.

"You there?" Spencer's voice crackled over the little speaker on the radio down in the cabin.

Christopher got up and bounded down the two steps into the cabin. He picked up the hand-held. "Go ahead."

"Just relax. I haven't seen him yet."

"What else can I do?" Christopher remarked with irritation evident in his voice. "The seagulls are back."

"Fascinating."

"Not really."

"You don't want it to get much more interesting than this. Believe me."

Christopher shook his head. "I know. Just feeling sorry for myself again, I guess."