Pulse
““We did it!” he muttered. “We did it!” He had to get the police, call the Miami detectives, prove to Kathleen and the girls that he was not crazy. He was right! The island seemed deserted. He rushed to the small grocery to use the phone. The door was locked; the sign in the window said it was only open two mornings a week until spring. He hoisted the flag at the landing and waited impatiently until he saw the ferry’s slow approach in the distance. Once aboard, he nearly wept out of sheer relief. It was over. There would be answers now to all the questions. He tried to organize his thoughts, planning how to clearly explain everythingto the local police. He had to tell Rory first; she had to go to the police with him. First off the ferry, he fought the impulse to find a phone. This had to be face-to-face. Then he could tell the world, but first he had to be sure that it would listen. He practically sprinted through the hotel lobby. Thank God she was waiting, pacing their room. “Where were you?”
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