Gray Ghost Read Online Free Page B

though I suppose he could’ve got zapped by lightning. I think you better come take a look.”
    Sheriff Dickman was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “You sure about this, Stoney?”
    “Hell, yes, I’m sure.”
    “Sometimes you imagine things, you know. Remember that time when Lyle—”
    “I know what I saw, Sheriff.”
    Dickman sighed. “I suppose you do. You tell anybody else?”
    “Just you,” said Calhoun.
    “Where are you now?”
    “The East End boat ramp. Meet me here. I’ll run you over there, you can see for yourself.”
    “A dead body, huh? I s—pose I ought to give the Portland police a heads-up.”
    “How about you wait on that,” said Calhoun. “I don’t think this poor soul’s gonna be going anywhere for a while.”
    The sheriff hesitated, then said, “Okay, Stoney. We’ll do it your way. Just sit tight. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Now let me finish what I started here.”
    Calhoun disconnected with the sheriff and handed the phone back to Paul Vecchio. “I brought sandwiches,” he said. “Ham and cheese.”
    Vecchio shook his head. “I’m not hungry. I could use some more coffee, though.”
    Calhoun poured each of them a mugful from his Stanley Thermos, and they waited there at the landing sipping coffee and watching the other boats set off.
    “So I guess we’re done fishing for today, huh?” said Vecchio.
    “I don’t know,” said Calhoun. “Depends on how long it takes with the sheriff. You can hang around if you want. Soon as we’re done out there, we can fish some more.”
    Vecchio shook his head. “It’s my own fault for insisting we take a break. If we hadn’t stopped at Quarantine Island …”
    Calhoun shrugged. “We had the best of it. Would’ve spent the rest of the day workin’ hard for ‘em. You’d’ve had to cast your arm off for a few more fish.”
    “You trying to make me feel better?”
    Calhoun shook his head. “Nope. I’d never try to do that. You can go ahead, feel however you want to feel.”
    Vecchio smiled. “Why don’t I pay you now. What do I owe you?” He took his wallet out of his hip pocket.
    Calhoun noticed that the man’s wallet was thick with bills. He shook his head. “You owe me nothing. We’ll go again, have ourselves a full trip. We weren’t out there long enough this morning to pay me for anything.”
    “Hell,” said Vecchio, “that was about the best fishing I ever had.”
    “We’ll do it again,” said Calhoun. “You can pay me then.”
    “You sure?”
    “I’m sure.”
    “Well,” said Vecchio, “thank you.”
    Sheriff Dickman’s green Ford Explorer with the county sheriff’s department logo on the side pulled into the lot about ten minutes later. Calhoun got out of his boat and walked up the ramp to meet him.
    The sheriff was a short, solid man with a barrel chest and a bald head and pale blue eyes that always seemed to be laughing at something. He was wearing his tan-colored uniform with his holster on his hip and his flat-brimmed Smokey the Bear hat, and when he came across the parking lot with Ralph trotting along beside him, all the guides and fishermen turned and watched him.
    Calhoun shook hands with him.
    “Let’s keep this quiet, Stoney,” said the sheriff. “Last thing we need is everybody with a boat swarming all over Quarantine Island.”
    “Keeping things quiet comes naturally to me,” said Calhoun. He turned, and he and the sheriff went down the ramp to his boat.
    He introduced the sheriff to Paul Vecchio, who was sitting on the front seat of the boat sipping his coffee. The sheriff shook Vec-chio’s hand, then said, “You’re in my seat.”
    Vecchio looked at Calhoun. “I was hoping I could tag along.”
    Calhoun shrugged. “Up to the sheriff.”
    Dickman shook his head. “Sorry.”
    Vecchio smiled at the sheriff. “I’d really like to go. I’ll stay out from underfoot, I promise.”
    “You’ve got to stay here,” Dickman said.
    Vecchio arched his eyebrows at