EIGHTEENAdventure II slid in under the headland’s old Spanish lighthouse and throbbed up the San Diego harbor channel. Downtown lights thrust long streaky lances rushing to meet us. The channel was loomed over by the burly shapes of USN flattops and tenders, vibrated over by music from Shelter Island. A masthead toward North Island chewed and spat out green splinters of code. A lot of corn-belt kids join the Navy to see this much of the world.
Personally, I would have liked to be somewhere else and a long distance from it all. What if Sonny was Bob and Dottie’s kid, better off without the Crossway money while he had Liz’s loving care?
And I still had a loud headache, large bruises, and grave misgivings concerning Pat Patterson. Where had he heard of Dottie’s child needing a foster home?
