Sleeping Alone Read Online Free Page A

angry gray ocean. “You sure you mean Hendrickson?” Frank Hendrickson had been dead at least half a dozen years. Eddie had been pallbearer at his funeral.
    “Who else is gonna go out in Lucky Lady? Sure it’s Frank, and no other.”
    There wasn’t a single boat out on the water, and with good reason. Only a fool would venture out with a storm ready to slam into town.
    “I don’t see him, Pop.”
    “Damn right you don’t. Frank’s halfway to Ambrose Light by now.”
    “So what are we doing here?” John asked with false good cheer. “I don’t know about you, but I could use some coffee right about now.”
    “No use sitting here waiting for Frank,” Eddie agreed. “He won’t be back before nightfall.”
    John helped his father to his feet. He considered suggesting that Eddie stop by home and change into something besides his pajamas before they went to the diner, but it was early enough that Dee would be the only one around. And Dee was practically family. Hell, she would have been family if his brother Brian hadn’t been too goddamn stupid to recognize a good woman when he found one.
    “Will you look at this?” Eddie stopped in front of the slip where Dick Weaver’s dory was moored.
    John whistled low. “Someone must’ve taken an axe to it.” The starboard side of the steel vessel had sustained a series of two-foot gashes and dents from stem to stern.
    “Damn kids,” Eddie muttered. “Too much time on their hands, if you ask me.”
    “I’m not so sure kids did this, Pop. It’s been happening too often lately.” He’d noticed that it was always fishing boats that were hit and never pleasure craft, but when he mentioned that to the sheriff last week, Mike hadn’t thought much of his suspicions.
    “One day I’ll catch one of the little bastards red-handed,” Mike had said around a big unlit cigar. “That’ll put an end to this shit soon enough.”
    Truth was, Mike didn’t much care what happened at the marina. Sea Gate’s economy didn’t revolve around the marina any longer—hell, most people said Sea Gate didn’t even have an economy. Fifteen years ago Gallagher’s had done turn-away business with everyone from locals who depended on the sea for their living, to weekenders in their plush cabin cruisers, to charter boats ferrying sportsmen out for some deep-sea fishing.
    Bed-and-breakfast inns popped up on both sides of Ocean Avenue, and before long they were booked a year in advance. Travel guides lauded Sea Gate as a contender for the Cape May crowd, the perfect place for everyone from honeymooners to senior citizens. Far enough away from New York and Philadelphia to be quaint, yet close enough to Atlantic City to be glamorous, Sea Gate enjoyed a boom that even the most jaded townies believed would never end.
    A monster nor’easter took care of that. A full moon, high tide, and fifty-mile-per-hour winds had destroyed the beach and most of the businesses. Now, almost eight years later, the town was still reeling from its effects. Half the shopkeepers had closed their doors permanently and moved to sunnier climes. One family after another said good-bye and followed the jobs to Somerset and Monmouth. Pollution took its toll on the fishing industry during the bleak summers of the late 1980s. The weekend crowd abandoned Sea Gate for Cape May, and sometimes John wondered if it would have been better if the damn storm had just leveled the town.
    The weathered boards of the dock glistened with sea spray, making the surface slick as a skating rink. Eddie had a tough time keeping his footing. His bare feet shot out from under him, and twice John just managed to grab him before his butt hit the ground.
    He yanked off his Nikes and pushed them toward his father. “Put these on,” he said. “I don’t feel-like carting your sorry ass to the emergency room when you break your leg.”
    His father grumbled loudly, but he put on the shoes. “Where’s the car?” he asked as they crossed the