When Jonathan walked through its narrow hallway later that evening, the scent of disinfectant and old paint replaced the salty luxury of the dock. Grace sat at a small table, drawing boats with a blue crayon.
She looked up when he entered.
“You didn’t go,” she said quietly.
“No,” he replied. “I didn’t.”
A counselor approached him gently. “Her name is Grace Mitchell,” she explained. “Her father passed away three years ago.”
The name struck him harder than the cracking hull had.
Mitchell.
Ethan Mitchell.
Jonathan remembered now. A naval engineer employed by Pierce Maritime Innovations nearly a decade earlier. A man who had repeatedly filed reports about structural vulnerabilities in a line of high-performance yachts. Reports Jonathan had dismissed as excessive caution that would delay production and cut into profits.
Ethan had been terminated for “obstructing efficiency.”
Within two years, financial strain and stress had crushed him. A heart attack, the counselor said. Grace had been eight.
Jonathan’s throat tightened.
“She talks about him often,” the counselor added softly. “He used to bring her to the docks. Said boats speak if you know how to listen.”
Jonathan knelt slowly in front of Grace.