I bring out the sketches from Tori, and we take turns discussing our findings so far.

Trey starts. “The good news is that the sinking ferry isn’t going to happen this week.”

I look over from the well-stocked refrigerator, skeptical. “Because?”

“Because the ferry service hasn’t started for the season yet. It starts a week from today, and there are only two ferry departure times per day. Six in the morning and twelve thirty. Since Tori sees a dim spot of light low in the sky, and the sun rises in Milwaukee ten to twenty minutes before six over the next few weeks, I deduce that this disaster happens on the early morning ferry. No idea what day, but I think this narrows down the time of day pretty nicely.” Trey looks up from his notes.

“What about the Muskegon departures?” I ask, checking the fridge for snacks.

“Too late in the day to line up with the sun’s position.”

“Wow,” I say. “Have we ever known the time of something this early on? This is huge. Good work, Trey.”

Trey leans back in his chair, looking smug. “I know,” he says.

I slice some chorizo and two apples and assemble a little Kate-inspired charcuterie plate of my own, adding cheese, crackers, and some walnuts I find in a cupboard, and bring it to the table for everybody to share. “What else do we have?”

My little rookie Rowan raises her hand, which is kind of adorable. “I checked the ten-day forecast and there are small chances of thunderstorms next Monday through Wednesday. That’s all I can get so far. I’ll keep an eye on it, though.”

Ben adds, “I’ve done some more Lake Michigan and ferry research. There’s definitely an issue with riptides in the lake, especially in relationship to breakwalls, which is what I’m guessing the ferry hits and what eventually causes it to sink. The riptides might pull down individuals in the water. Added to that, water temps are still in the forties this time of year, and anybody who doesn’t make it into a lifeboat is in serious trouble.”

He continues. “As for the ferry, I think it would have to hit that breakwall with quite a bit of force to damage it enough to eventually sink it. With the waves that high and visibility low, I could see it happening, but my guess is that Tori’s vision isn’t showing something. No little bump or glitch, as she said, would be enough to have that kind of effect.”

“She said there were people on the floor of the ferry before the bump,” Rowan says. “Maybe it hits more than once, and hard enough that people would be injured.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Ben says. “Speaking of lifeboats, the ferry has plenty of them, with more than enough room for a full-capacity voyage. But something must go wrong for one to be floating away empty. Could be the ferry’s tilting—that would make it hard to exit from one side.”

I glance at Sawyer, who is quiet at the stove, sautéing onions and garlic and chopping up several Roma tomatoes.

“Okay,” I say. “I just have to tell you that it’s such a relief not to have to do all of this myself. Thanks to all of you for putting so much work into this. We’re making a lot of progress here.”

“Sure,” Ben says.

“You’re welcome,” says Rowan.

Sawyer turns around, agitation clear on his face. “Yeah, it’s all really helpful, but what I’d like to know is how the hell we stop a ferry from hitting a breakwall and sinking during high seas.” He rips his fingers through his hair, which he does when he’s frustrated—I know that well enough by now.

“We’re working on that,” I say coolly. “In fact, that’s what I’d like to talk about next.”

He doesn’t reply, so I go on. “Ben, do you have access to a boat that you’d feel comfortable driving—or sailing, I mean—in weather like that?”

Ben knits his brows. “I have access to boats, yes. But I’m not qualified to sail safely in those conditions.”

“Okay, that’s what I figured. No problem, it was just a thought. Next, I don’t think we try to stop the ferry from hitting the breakwall. That’s impossible. We can try to stop the ferry from sailing, but that kind of action never seems to work for us, right? Making strange claims of future disasters will only get us in trouble. I mean, I couldn’t stop the snowplow driver from driving. We couldn’t stop the shooters from attacking. So I’m assuming rather than wasting time trying to get the captain to stop the voyage, our job is to keep people from dying in the confusion that follows the impact.” I pause and look at the solemn faces looking back at me. “Right? That’s been our job all along. We do our best to stop people from dying.” I glance at Sawyer, who is half turned, listening.

“Okay,” he says. “And?”

“And so we need to be on that ferry.”

The only sound is a wooden spoon scraping the bottom of a stew pot. I smell fresh basil.

After a moment, Sawyer says, “How do we save twenty or thirty people from drowning when we’re on a sinking ferry?”

“By organizing the passengers and keeping them calm. Handing out life vests and helping the crew with the lifeboats. Taking charge of the situation and trying to make sure that the runaway lifeboat doesn’t get detached from the ferry until it’s full of people.”

“And when the ship sinks?”

“We . . .” For the first time I falter. “We get into a lifeboat too.”