The Stranger in the Lifeboat

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Land
LeFleur drove with his body slightly twisted. The plastic bag was tucked
inside his shirt, and he was doing his best to hide it from Rom. Not that Rom
seemed interested. He stared out the rolled-down window, the breeze swirling
his wavy hair.
LeFleur had only been able to read the first paragraphs of the notebook.
When he tried to turn the page, it tore in his hands. Fearful of doing more
damage, he slid the notebook back into the bag. But he had seen enough. The
experts were wrong. Passengers had survived the sinking of the Galaxy. For
now, he was the only one who knew.
The raft remained on the beach—it was too large to fit in the police jeep—
so LeFleur called two men from the Royal Defense Force to guard it until the
next day, when he could bring a truck. The force was mostly volunteers. He
hoped they knew what they were doing.
“We’ll stop ahead,” LeFleur announced, “grab something to eat, OK?”
“Yes, Inspector,” Rom answered.
“You gotta be hungry, right?”
“Yes, Inspector.”
“Look, you can stop with the formalities, OK? You’re not being
investigated here.”
That caused Rom to turn.
“Am I not?”
“No. You just found the raft. You didn’t do anything to it.”
Rom looked away.
“Right?” LeFleur said.
“Yes, Inspector.”
What a strange bird, LeFleur thought. The north shore seemed to attract a
lot of men like him, thin, raggedy drifters who were never in a hurry. They
smoked a lot and rode bicycles or carried guitars. LeFleur often thought of