Most of the gear had been cataloged without anyone knowing exactly what Daniel had packed.
Now we did.
The numbers did not match.
If Dean never boarded the boat, where had the extra vest gone?
The spare adult flotation vest was missing.
So was one orange whistle.
The coordinator stared at the report for a long time.
Then said, “There was another incident on that lake that afternoon.”
My stomach turned.
“What incident?”
“Small boat capsized. Older man and his grandson.”
“Did they survive?”
“Both.”
“There was another incident on that lake that afternoon.”
I gripped the table.
“Who helped them?”
He looked through the report.
“Statement says another fishing boat reached them first. One adult. Several boys.”
A wave of dizziness hit me.
Sophie whispered, “Mom…”
I already knew.
***
The grandfather still had the whistle when we met.
Six years later, it hung from a nail in his garage.
