and—”
“—everything’s as it should be,” Westfield finished.
“Yeah.”
“What about July Fourth?”
Hutchinson drew in on his cigarette and leaned over the railing to look at the water.
“I was up here working on the cargo boom. I’d welded its base from scaffolding underneath the landing pad the night before. I was up here using a cutting torch. Around midnight I put everything down and leaned against the rail here for a smoke. I looked across at her window and it was lit but I didn’t see her. Then I looked at the water and saw something moving.”
“What?”
“I guess it was a guy. I never seen anything like it. It looked like a man, swimming, out in the channel. In the middle of the night.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Not really. He was in the water. I could see the skin on his back and legs, so he was probably wearing just a swimsuit. Maybe he was naked.”
“Race?”
“White guy, I guess. I mean, just on skin color alone it’s hard to say. He wasn’t black. He could’ve been Asian, I guess.”
“But you don’t think so.”
“No. You ask me why, I can’t say why. He looked like a white guy, is all. Besides, how many Asians you seen in Galveston compared to how many white guys?”
“What about hair?”
“He was bald.”
“Clean shaven, or bald?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Where was he swimming?”
“Up the channel, that way.” Hutchinson pointed northeast towards Seawolf Park.
“What else you notice?”
“I mean, for one, I never seen anyone swim in this channel, day or night. Some divers might go in sometimes to work on the bottom of a ship. But nobody jumps in and swims. I mean, look at that filthy shit. Two, this was the middle of the night, in the middle of an industrial ship channel. But I guess what I noticed most was how fast he was swimming. I never seen anything like it. I never seen anyone swim in that…style, I guess.”
“He have fins on?”
Hutchinson looked at the water and thought about it.
“No. At least, I don’t think so. His feet kicked out of the water and I’d have noticed fins if he’d had them.”
“What about his hands, could you see them?”
“No. He was swimming without lifting them up. You know? Not like a forward crawl. It was a—what do you call it? A breaststroke?”
He mimed a stroke, his fingertips together, palms out, arms parting and coming to his sides.
“I think so. Breaststroke.”
“It was like that. His hands didn’t come out of the water.”
“Did he have an electric water scooter? Like the SEALS use to get into harbors?”
“Like Navy SEALS? I hadn’t thought of that. I guess it’s possible.”
“But you’re not convinced?”
“No. I saw a man swimming. He was swimming faster than I thought anyone could swim. But honest to god, it looked like he was doing it on his own.”
“You see him get out of the water?”
“He stuck to the channel till he was out of sight.”
“How far till you couldn’t see him?”
Hutchinson pointed at a tug and barge coming towards them from Seawolf Park.
“Not far. Between us and that tug.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It was dark.”
There were more industrial docks on the Galveston side of the channel in that direction. On the Pelican Island side, there was another shipyard farther down the island. Beyond that lay Galveston Bay, and past that, the Gulf of Mexico.
“You sure about the time?”
“Yeah. I looked at my watch when I took a break and I checked again when I got back to work. I started working again around 12:45, so I saw him sometime after 12:30.”
“How fast was he swimming?”
“That’s the thing.” Hutchinson pinched the end off of his cigarette and flicked the butt into the wind. “It had to be faster than a man could run. Twenty miles an hour, maybe. I didn’t see him long.”
Bullshit , Westfield thought. He looked at the water.
“You sure it wasn’t a dolphin?”
“I know a dolphin when I see it. This was a
“—everything’s as it should be,” Westfield finished.
“Yeah.”
“What about July Fourth?”
Hutchinson drew in on his cigarette and leaned over the railing to look at the water.
“I was up here working on the cargo boom. I’d welded its base from scaffolding underneath the landing pad the night before. I was up here using a cutting torch. Around midnight I put everything down and leaned against the rail here for a smoke. I looked across at her window and it was lit but I didn’t see her. Then I looked at the water and saw something moving.”
“What?”
“I guess it was a guy. I never seen anything like it. It looked like a man, swimming, out in the channel. In the middle of the night.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Not really. He was in the water. I could see the skin on his back and legs, so he was probably wearing just a swimsuit. Maybe he was naked.”
“Race?”
“White guy, I guess. I mean, just on skin color alone it’s hard to say. He wasn’t black. He could’ve been Asian, I guess.”
“But you don’t think so.”
“No. You ask me why, I can’t say why. He looked like a white guy, is all. Besides, how many Asians you seen in Galveston compared to how many white guys?”
“What about hair?”
“He was bald.”
“Clean shaven, or bald?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Where was he swimming?”
“Up the channel, that way.” Hutchinson pointed northeast towards Seawolf Park.
“What else you notice?”
“I mean, for one, I never seen anyone swim in this channel, day or night. Some divers might go in sometimes to work on the bottom of a ship. But nobody jumps in and swims. I mean, look at that filthy shit. Two, this was the middle of the night, in the middle of an industrial ship channel. But I guess what I noticed most was how fast he was swimming. I never seen anything like it. I never seen anyone swim in that…style, I guess.”
“He have fins on?”
Hutchinson looked at the water and thought about it.
“No. At least, I don’t think so. His feet kicked out of the water and I’d have noticed fins if he’d had them.”
“What about his hands, could you see them?”
“No. He was swimming without lifting them up. You know? Not like a forward crawl. It was a—what do you call it? A breaststroke?”
He mimed a stroke, his fingertips together, palms out, arms parting and coming to his sides.
“I think so. Breaststroke.”
“It was like that. His hands didn’t come out of the water.”
“Did he have an electric water scooter? Like the SEALS use to get into harbors?”
“Like Navy SEALS? I hadn’t thought of that. I guess it’s possible.”
“But you’re not convinced?”
“No. I saw a man swimming. He was swimming faster than I thought anyone could swim. But honest to god, it looked like he was doing it on his own.”
“You see him get out of the water?”
“He stuck to the channel till he was out of sight.”
“How far till you couldn’t see him?”
Hutchinson pointed at a tug and barge coming towards them from Seawolf Park.
“Not far. Between us and that tug.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It was dark.”
There were more industrial docks on the Galveston side of the channel in that direction. On the Pelican Island side, there was another shipyard farther down the island. Beyond that lay Galveston Bay, and past that, the Gulf of Mexico.
“You sure about the time?”
“Yeah. I looked at my watch when I took a break and I checked again when I got back to work. I started working again around 12:45, so I saw him sometime after 12:30.”
“How fast was he swimming?”
“That’s the thing.” Hutchinson pinched the end off of his cigarette and flicked the butt into the wind. “It had to be faster than a man could run. Twenty miles an hour, maybe. I didn’t see him long.”
Bullshit , Westfield thought. He looked at the water.
“You sure it wasn’t a dolphin?”
“I know a dolphin when I see it. This was a
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