CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
5:55 p.m. Eastern Standard Time
Crisfield, Maryland
The dark surface of the water was shrouded in a cold fog.
Luke waited quietly on the rickety wooden boat dock. Behind him, at the very edge, Ed Newsam stood in his brown leather jacket, cradling a shotgun. Nearby, on a different dock, a red fisherman’s shack sat inches above the water.
They were on the eastern shore of Chesapeake Bay, in a town known for its tourism and its summer crabbing contests.
Tourist season was over.
It was full dark now, perfect cover for a clandestine meeting. The area was deserted. In the small harbor, moored boats bobbed up and down in the gentle swells.
“Hello, gentlemen.”
A man had joined them—he had approached silently along the docks. To Luke, it wasn’t much of a surprise. He was
