“He better have a good record of it. They keep logs of which truck is going out to which driver. I’d be very surprised if they could produce a log of that particular truck assigned to Dale. After all, he drove his own truck on those fracking projects. We just have to wait and see what the forensic tests show for the fragments.”
“Oh, my, God, Kalin. That’s incredible,” I say.
“I think they were backed into a corner. Atkinson said the police had already notified collision and body shops in the area to be on the lookout for a truck matching the description and damage which we provided to them. It’s not easy to casually get a twenty-thousand-pound big rig repaired undetected. There are only so many places they can go, and their only choice was to keep it on the lot.”
“Why didn’t they destroy it at a junk yard?” I ask.
“Salvage yards were also notified of the truck’s description with the likely damage done to it, so it would have been better to just stay low, and try and remove the bumper and other parts. But one fragment is all it takes.”
“And all this time I thought they weren’t doing anything,” I chuckle.
“Honestly, it took some coaxing, Annabelle. I don’t think we would have gotten this far without Atkinson. He kept the police updated, expedited the search warrant based on the evidence, and contacted the media and reminded them of their…options. They will have a new story to print now,” he snarls. “This is cause for a celebration. Mom, Dad, you haven’t even been on my yacht. It’s such a beautiful day. Why don’t we take it out for a spin in the ocean?”
“That sounds like quite a treat. I wasn’t expecting all of this,” Lauren says excitedly.
“I use it so much for clients. It’s time we live a little.”
“Especially since you’re still alive,” I say with a soft stroke of my hand over his jaw. Kalin clasps my wrist. “Since we’re both alive.” Kalin kisses my knuckle and turns to his parents. “Put on your best sailing gear. It should be warm most of the day.” Kalin slides his finger across his cell phone screen. “Eighty-two degrees, with a gentle breeze from the southwest. Perfect.”
“Uh oh, he’s already going into skipper mode,” I snicker.
“I usually have my crew operate this boat. Although she accommodates a crew of sixteen, today it’s just us.”
“Are you sure, Kalin?” Peter asks.
“I’m fully licensed,” Kalin says with a comforting smile. “We just need to make some lunch first. Annabelle, what do you say we make some sandwiches?”
“Sure.”
“Oh, let me help you, dear,” Lauren insists.
“No, Mom. This is for you. This is for you and Dad.”
“It’s such a beautiful yacht. I’ve never been on a yacht,” Peter confesses.
“Me neither,” Lauren and I say together, causing us to break out in laughter.
“That’s about to change,” Kalin says with a glint of anticipation.
“We certainly have much to celebrate,” Peter says.
I watch them interact. Kalin and Peter are about the same height at six feet two, and Peter’s thick, wavy hair is grayer. They are so much alike, but have lived very different lives. Peter and Lauren married shortly after college, and have been married for over thirty years now. Kalin fell in love, became insanely rich, and then lost the one person who he was madly in love with. I knew he would give every penny he had to have Rebecca back. In all of his pain, he never stopped believing in people or in himself. After everything that has happened, it is the most remarkable thing about him.
I watch his parents smiling and laughing appreciatively with him, and wonder if that’s where his undying faith in love comes from. Or maybe some people are just born with something that keeps them above it all, like a buoy that cannot be pressed underwater for too long, believing against all odds in something better an upside-down world, and Kalin just happens to be one of them.
“Annabelle, we have some sandwiches to make before our excursion.” Kalin reaches into the fridge and grabs two bottles of lemon ginger sparkling water and hands them to his parents. “Please just enjoy the house. There are gardens in the back, a deck, library, rec room. Anything you want. Leave the lunch to us.”
With soft expressions, they thank Kalin and he watches his parents make their way to the view of the gardens on the spacious deck. Peter pulls a chair out for Lauren, and Kalin smiles as Peter sits next to her and places his arm around her.
Kalin turns back to me, washes his hands and grabs an assortment of vegetables and confit from the fridge. It suddenly dawns on me that Kalin is setting up some alone time for us to talk.