“He’s a fisherman, too.” Her words were slurred, from the hook piercing her lip. Again, I nodded, unsure whom she was referring to. Dan? “Some streams run deep,” Marie said. My lips trembling, I mumbled, “M-M-Marie?” “Deep and dark,” she said. “Honey?” I said. “He waits,” she went on. “Who?” I asked. “What do you mean?”
