Read Fire in the Stars for Free Online Page B

the Arctic Ocean. The strait served as one pathway for the St. Lawrence River on its race to the open ocean, and even he knew that the clash of temperatures, tides, and currents could create a wild sea.
    For a moment he felt a twinge of fear. Phil was not a Newfoundlander born to read the language of the sea, but he’d gone in search of wild surf and whales. Would he be fool enough to venture out in a dinghy?
    â€œWhy is HQ involved?” he asked.
    Ralph was fiddling with the coffee, measuring and pouring a new pot. He shrugged. “Some border-security issue. The fisherman who called it in thought the occupants might be smugglers.”
    â€œSmugglers? What the hell would they be smuggling off the northern tip of Newfoundland?” Chris looked outside. The rain was slamming against the windows now, rattling like buckshot on a tin roof. “How could the fisherman see anything in this, anyway?”
    â€œWell, that’s the thing. Acted suspicious, he said. He says he went out in his boat to help but when they saw him, they took off out to sea.”
    â€œThey? How many?”
    â€œFour or five. Way too many for the size of the boat.”
    Chris felt a wash of relief. Not Phil! “That could mean anything. Maybe they had illegal fish in the boat. Or maybe they thought he was up to no good. They could have been tourists who never set foot out of the city. We used to get that up north too. People from Japan or Europe eager to see the wilderness, but with no idea how wild and empty it really is. Probably thought they could just dial 911 on their cellphones.”
    â€œExcept when help was offered, these guys headed the other way. That’s what’s got HQ in a knot. So the coastal detachments are on alert to keep their eyes and ears open. It’s gone out on the Internet, TV, and radio too, so the locals will be keeping an eye out.” Ralph poured his fresh coffee, pried his wet boots off, and propped his stocking feet on his desk. “Let’s hope those poor buggers aren’t at the bottom of the ocean by now.”
    Amanda was chilled to the bone by the time she reached the RCMP detachment in Deer Lake just before noon. Because it was located in an obscure corner of town off the main Trans-Canada Highway, it took her some time to find it, but her first glimpse of the sleek, modern brick building filled her with relief. It was not the remote backwater she’d feared, so maybe someone would have heat and a pot of hot coffee on the go.
    She had left Sheri the night before on polite but tepid terms, with promises to keep in touch. Amanda knew her concern and love for Phil were genuine, but distrust and blame had wedged its blade between them. There was little to be gained by staying in Grand Falls. Phil was no longer there, and if she was going to help him, she had to figure out where he’d gone.
    Over a sumptuous breakfast at the B&B, Amanda had scrutinized the map. She knew Deer Lake was the gateway to the Great Northern Peninsula, which jutted like a gnarled thumb up into the North Atlantic. A long spine of mountains ran down its centre and its ragged coastline was carved into rocky points and cozy coves. At its southern base, Gros Morne National Park attracted thousands of visitors to its ancient, glacier-scoured mountains and silent green forests. At its remote northern tip, the discovery of a thousand-year -old Viking settlement drew scientists, tourists, and history lovers from all around the world.
    Deer Lake, and RCMP Corporal Chris Tymko, seemed like a promising place to start her search.
    On her way out of Grand Falls, she’d dropped by the bar where Jason and Phil had arranged to meet. It was closed but, in response to her hammering, the door was eventually opened by a red-eyed man carrying a mop. He squinted at her doubtfully, but didn’t invite her in out of the rain. They might have been here, he said, but it was a busy night and the music was loud.