As dawn rose, Maralyn looked out at the emptiness. A clear sky, the Pacific Ocean, and themselves: a small boat, sailing west.
She left her watch on deck and went down to the cabin. Her husband Maurice was still asleep. The morning would follow the usual rhythms: coffee and breakfast, then all the checks and jobs a boat requires.
Except this morning — in March 1973. At the precise moment that Maralyn put her hand on Maurice to wake him,