Sail by James Patterson, Howard Roughan

necessarily. I would expect a little more logic out of you.”
    “The Coast Guard at least knows where to look for them, though, right?”
    Devoux smiled again, this time as wide as the Atlantic. “So they think.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “It means . . . they received the wrong coordinates. It means I’m very good at this.”
    “How?” asked Peter.
    “Presto, that’s how.”
    Fair enough. Peter didn’t need to know Devoux’s dark secrets. Better if he didn’t. Besides, he could give a shit how he had rigged the EPIRB. Just so long as he had done it.
    “Good,” said Peter. “So the Coast Guard
won’t
be able to find them. Is that what you’re telling me?”
    “No, I didn’t say that. Eventually they would, if not for one thing.”
    Peter knew exactly what that thing was. It went without saying, but Devoux said it anyway—clearly just to amuse himself.
    “Trust me, if the storm didn’t kill your loved ones—
ka-blam, ka-blooey
—my bomb sure as hell will. It’s a done deal. The family Dunne is history.”
    Devoux was a sick fuck all right.
    Precisely why Peter Carlyle had hired him to murder his family.
    Part Three
    Ka-Blam, Ka-Blooey
    Chapter 42
    THE FIRST THING I’m aware of is the intense heat, red-hot. It scalds my hair and skin as I tumble through the air. Everything about this is unreal. I’m on fire!
    And it only gets worse when I hit the water.
    Because I don’t hit the water.
    Instead I come crashing down on a jagged piece of the hull that, like everything else, has been sent hurtling from the boat, or what used to be known as the boat.
    Snap!
goes my right shinbone. I know exactly what’s happened. I can literally feel it burst through my skin.
    As I roll off the piece of the hull and into the water, my body immediately goes into shock. My arms, my hands, my one good leg—they’re useless. I can’t move a muscle. If not for my life jacket, I’d be drowning.
    This is unbelievable! What the hell just happened? I can’t begin to imagine an answer.
    I look back at the boat—except it’s not there. It’s not anywhere. It’s gone!
    As if in a magic trick,
The Family Dunne
has disappeared from sight.
    That’s when the terrifying, gut-wrenching thought travels down from my brain and tears through my heart at warp speed.
    My family!
    All I can see is thick black smoke rising from the water’s surface. Bits and pieces of the boat are in raging flames. Each second that passes without my seeing Carrie, Mark, or Ernie makes the fear and panic grow. Oh, God, where are the kids? Where’s Jake?
    I’m bobbing helplessly in the water as I call out their names between painful, racking coughs. The billowing smoke fills my lungs, and I feel myself getting weaker by the second. I’m losing too much blood from my leg. I’m on the verge of passing out.
    Still, all I can think about is the kids.
    “Carrie! Mark! Ernie!”
    I keep screaming their names, but I don’t hear them call back. I don’t hear
anything
around me. No one calls out to me. The only sound is a muffled, hollow ringing in my head. It’s aftershock from the blast, I know. Blunt trauma to the ears.
    The black smoke surrounds me like a wall now, and I can barely breathe. Every attempt to scream for the kids turns into another cough as blood begins to spray from my lips. I cover my mouth, only to watch my hand turn bright red. Where is the blood coming from? I wonder. Did I fracture a rib? Is it poking a lung? Or did I just bite my tongue when I crashed into the water?
    And what about Jake?
    He was on the boat when it exploded. Now he’s nowhere.
    Are they all gone?
    Am I the only one who survived?
    No! No! No! PLEASE, NO! I can’t even fathom the thought—insidious, horrible.
    My entire family is dead.
    Chapter 43
    I CONTINUE TO CALL their names.
    Then I hear a voice cut through the wall of smoke, filling me with hope, thanks to one small word, the most beautiful word in the English language right