The second ambulance stayed, and I wondered how many more victims there were. The third gurney exited the building at a slow pace. The two young men pushing it didn’t look down at their patient. I held my breath, squinting to make out details.
The man at the head of the gurney stopped and opened the rear door of the ambulance and then he and the other man lifted their charge inside. I only got a brief look as they lifted their bundle, but it was enough. A sheet concealed the form beneath it. The sheet had been pulled over the victim’s head.
I pushed out of my Explorer and began running. My sudden action startled the young policeman assigned to watch me, and he had to tackle me from behind to stop me.
My head smacked into the soft, wet earth, and I lay there dazed, the wind knocked out of me.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” The policeman was also on the ground and crawled beside my head.
I looked at him as I gasped for breath.
“I’m sorry, but I’m supposed to keep you away from the building.” He rolled me over onto my back, stood, and then pulled me into a sitting position.
“Are you okay?” he asked again.
I fought for air and thought I was going to pass out. My jeans and sweater were wet and muddy from my fall. I wondered for a moment what had happened to my jacket and then remembered that it too had been in my office.
“Jane!” Morgan’s voice boomed behind me, and the young policeman quickly stepped away.
“Are you okay?” Morgan asked. “What are you doing down there?”
“I’m fine.” I stood, brushing clumps of mud off my jeans.
I nodded toward the ambulance that was driving slowly through the parking lot. “Who?”
Morgan grasped my right forearm, looked into my eyes, and said, “Barry Gant.”
“Oh no.” The image of Gant with his wife in the restaurant the previous evening floated through my mind. Gant had been one of the few colleagues who had told me he was sorry about Craig’s death. How could he be dead? I hadn’t seen him that morning at the marine center, but he’d been alive and enjoying himself at the restaurant the previous evening.
“We have to tell his wife,” I said.
Morgan shook his head. “Someone has already taken care of that.” He gripped my shoulders. “This isn’t your fault, Jane.”
The words bounced off of me. I felt responsible for everything. “Who else?” I asked.
Morgan knew what I meant. “Steve Carole is unconscious and Glenda Wayne suffered burns and abrasions. There are a few people with minor injuries, but it could have been a lot worse.”
Not Glenda. I gripped my pounding head in my hands and began walking toward my Explorer. Steve Carole was a biochemist who had been at the marine center for only three months. I didn’t even know if he was married, but now he might die because someone had planted a bomb in my office. Glenda was a lifelong resident of Kodiak, a happily-married mother of two and grandmother of four. I thought of the photos of her grandchildren that decorated her desk. She had to pull through this.
I couldn’t speak for several minutes. I climbed into the driver’s seat and gripped the steering wheel. Morgan stood by the open door, and when I looked at his face, I saw that it was streaked with dirt and soot, the lines in his skin accented by sweat and grime.
“The blast originated in my office, didn’t it?” I was certain I knew the answer to that question.
Morgan nodded. “It looks that way, but we won’t know for sure until the bomb squad picks through the debris.”
“Why?” The word came out as a sob.
“I don’t know,” Morgan said. “I won’t lie. I think the bomb was meant to kill you and divert our attention away from your car.”
“Jack Justin,” I said.
“He’s at the top of our list, and we’re looking for him. He hasn’t been in his hotel room since yesterday morning, and he hasn’t left the island on any commercial flights.”
“He didn’t get what he was after,” I said.
“Jane, we don’t know that Jack Justin did this, but you are right. The person who planted this bomb did not get the briefcase, and you are still alive.”
“I know my life is in danger,” I said. “I just wish I understood why.”
A man in a charcoal grey suit walked across the lot toward us. “I’ll be back in a minute,” Morgan said, and walked toward the man. They met, conversed for a minute, and then walked briskly toward the building.
I looked for my police guard, but he wasn’t there. I felt useless, alone, and frightened. Why was all this happening to me? Was I somehow being punished for Craig’s death? I knew the idea was absurd, but I couldn’t shake it. At this rate, I soon would be joining Craig.
Morgan returned a few minutes later and sat in the passenger seat of the Explorer.
“Do you feel like driving?” he asked.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m late for a 2:00 appointment with Maryann Myers,” he said.
“What does this have to do with her?”
“Nothing that I can see,” Morgan said, “but the evidence crews are here now, so I might as well keep my appointment. Mrs. Myers is not an easy lady to find, and I don’t want to miss my opportunity.”
I reached for the key and then remembered it was in my purse in the lab. I pointed toward the glove compartment. “I have another set of keys in there,” I said.
“This isn’t a good place to keep keys,” Morgan said, his head bent to the small compartment as he searched for the keys.
“Yes, I know,” I said, and took the keys from his hand.
I backed out of the space and drove to the entrance of the lot. The policeman guarding the lot unhooked the rope barricade and allowed us to leave.
“Where does she live?” I asked.
“Twenty seven hundred Willow Creek Drive. Do you know where that is?”
“I think it’s in Bell’s Flats. It will take us about fifteen minutes to get there.”
Morgan sighed. “I hope she’ll wait.”
“I don’t understand why you’re bothering with her.” I nosed the Explorer onto the Near Island Bridge. I’d never seen so much traffic on the long bridge before, and all of it was coming toward us.
“I learned early in my career not to let one incident divert the entire focus of the investigation.”
I was certain this field trip was a waste of time, but I wasn’t the expert. I waited for a long line of traffic before turning left onto Rezanof. It looked as if everyone in town was driving over to Near Island to check out the explosion.
“You might remember,” Morgan said, “just a few days ago you called me, concerned that we were limiting the scope of our investigation to the Justins and their enemies.”
I depressed the accelerator as we left the city limits. The island dropped away to our left, but I was in no frame of mind to appreciate the stunning beauty of Chiniak Bay. “Yes,” I said, “but that was before Justin threatened me and then blew up my office.”
“We don’t know he did that.” Morgan’s voice lacked conviction.
“The bomb in my office is directly related to George Justin’s briefcase. My scientific mind won’t allow me to believe otherwise.”
Morgan didn’t respond but stared straight ahead as we sped past Boy Scout Lake, Lake Louise, and Coast Guard Housing. We rounded Barometer Mountain and the Kodiak National Wildlife Refuge Office, where Dana Baynes worked. We crossed the Buskin River Bridge and were buzzed by a plane landing at the airport.
He turned his head at the next group of large buildings. “What’s that?”
“The largest Coast Guard base in the world.”
Morgan nodded his head slowly as he watched the buildings whiz by.
We followed the road around Women’s Bay and past the fairgrounds on our right. We reached the Sargent Creek Bridge, and I slowed.
“I think we turn right on the next road,” I said. “I’m not very familiar with Bell’s Flats.”
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sp; I eased onto Russian River Road and drove half a mile before I saw the green street sign for Willow Creek Drive.
“There it is,” Morgan said, and I turned left onto a gravel road. Twenty seven hundred was a cedar, ranch-style house on the right. I turned into the long, muddy driveway.
The Myers’ attempt at landscaping had resulted in thin, patchy grass and scraggly daffodils, and I wondered why weeds and wildflowers hadn’t taken over the yard. Perhaps someone had gotten carried away with weed killer, or maybe the horse that watched us from a fenced-off section of the yard occasionally was allowed to roam free.
Seven-foot, square, king crab pots dominated the backyard. Row after row of the metal cages stacked twenty feet in the air either awaited the slim possibility of another king crab season on Kodiak or would be loaded onto a crab boat headed to the Bering Sea in the fall. I wondered if Darren Myers had been a king crab fishermen before becoming a cannery owner.
Two large black labs rushed at us, greeting us with loud, low barks. I eased my door open.
“Hi guys.” The lead dog jumped up on me, adding his muddy paw prints to my stained jeans. I rubbed his ears, and he whined with pleasure. The second dog clamored for his share of affection
“Bruno, Titus, get down. Come here.” Maryann Myers stood in the front doorway, motioning to the dogs. They looked at me, hesitated, and then obeyed their master.
I’d forgotten how small Maryann Myers was. She stood under five feet and could not have weighed more than ninety-five pounds. Today, her flaming red hair was combed and curled around her face, accenting her delicate features. Her blue eyes burned bright, not glassy like they had been at the memorial service. Her gaze jumped from Morgan to me and then back to Morgan again.
Morgan stepped in front of me and withdrew his I.D. from his inside coat pocket. He held out his hand. “Mrs. Myers, I’m Special Agent Nick Morgan, and this is Dr. Marcus from the marine center. I’m sorry I’m late. There was an explosion at the marine center, and I lost track of time.”
“Oh my!” I noticed a trace of a Southern accent in her voice.
“Come in,” she said, and she somehow magically ushered us into the house at the same time she shooed the dogs out the door.
The interior of the house surprised me. Everything was decorated in white: white carpet, white curtains, white furniture, and white walls. White—especially white carpet—was not a practical choice for muddy Kodiak. I kicked off my shoes in the entryway, and Morgan followed my example.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” Maryann Myers asked.
“No,” Morgan said, and I shook my head. We followed her through the hall and turned right into a bright, airy living room.
Open curtains framed two large picture windows, and the sun’s rays danced on the white surfaces. Maryann motioned for us to sit on a white couch, and I looked down at my jeans. “I think maybe I should stand.”
“Hold on just a minute,” she said, and hurried from the room, returning a moment later with a large bath towel. She spread the towel on the couch and I sat on it, feeling like one of her dogs.
She sat across from us in a rocking chair. She folded her hands on her lap and looked at Morgan. “Now, what can I do for you?” she asked. “I’m not sure I understand why you want to talk to me.”
“Mrs. Myers,” Morgan began.
“Please, call me Maryann.”
“Maryann, we’re speaking with everyone we can who was related to or a friend of any of the passengers on Nine Nine November.”
“Why is she involved in this?” Maryann nodded at me. “She’s not an FBI agent.”
Morgan smiled. “She’s my chauffeur. She knows the island, and I don’t.” His explanation made me feel very unimportant, but it seemed to appease Maryann Myers.
She nodded. “Okay. I said some things at the memorial service that I regret. I was upset and very emotional that day.” She crossed her legs and slowly rocked the chair. She looked down at her hands. “Every word I said was true, but I shouldn’t have made a scene. What I did was disrespectful to the other victims and their families.”
“Tell me about your late husband, Mrs. … Maryann.”
She glanced up at the ceiling and began to rock faster. “Darren was soulless. He had absolutely no conscience, and he did whatever it took to get ahead.” She leveled her gaze at Morgan. “All he cared about was himself and making money. I hated him.” Her voice cracked, and she licked her lips.
Morgan remained silent, nodding his head sympathetically and studying Maryann as her hands tightened around the arms of the rocking chair.
She looked from Morgan to me. “I’m glad he’s dead.” Her tone was hostile, but tears streaked down her face. “Now I don’t have to worry about a messy divorce, and everything he owned is mine. I only wish he could know I got it all.” She laughed and wiped her face. “That would bother him more than knowing he was dead.”
I wondered if Mrs. Myers knew she was not doing a good job of clearing herself as a suspect in this matter. She didn’t seem to care about that.
“You want to know if I hated my husband enough to kill him, don’t you?” She sat forward, jutting her chin toward Morgan.
Morgan remained silent.
“Well, I did.” She fell back in the chair and suddenly looked very weary. “But I could never kill innocent people just to get rid of him.” If he’d died from eating a strychnine-laced cinnamon roll, I’d be your woman, but I could never do this. I’d never plant a bomb and blow up a planeload of people.” She began to sob and pulled a tissue from her sweater pocket.
“Can I get you some water?” I asked.
She waved her hand. “No, I’ll be all right,” she said, and the sobs began to subside.
“Did your husband have any enemies?” Morgan’s voice was softer but still insistent.
“Besides me?” Maryann shrugged. “He had plenty of business competitors among the canneries here in town, but I don’t know that you could call any of them enemies.” She shook her head. “You need to talk to David Sturman. He’s the superintendent of the cannery, and he can tell you more than I can about Darren’s business deals.”
“Yes, I plan to speak with him,” Morgan said. He shifted on the couch. “What about the day of the accident? Did you know your husband was flying to town?”
Maryann dabbed her eyes with the tissue. “Yes, I knew. He called me and asked me to drop off some freezer parts at Kodiak Flight Services. The large flash freezer had broken, and they needed the parts right away. He said they could come out on the same flight that he was going to catch back to town.” She shrugged. “We were divorcing, but he still ordered me around.”
Morgan sat forward in his chair. “And you took the parts to the hangar or the dock?”
She paused. “I don’t remember. To the hangar, I guess. That’s where I usually take things.”
The tears started again, but this time Morgan didn’t wait for them to stop. “Did you know who the pilot was going to be for that flight, and what plane he was planning to use?”
If Maryann Myers understood the implications of this question, she didn’t let on. She sniffed. “I didn’t think about it. I knew all the pilots well, but Bill....” She pulled her sweater around her and began rocking again. “That’s the worst part,” she said. “The thing I can’t get out of my mind. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.”
“What?” I asked.
Her eyes glistened when she looked at me. “Every time I think about that plane exploding, I see Bill as he was the last time I talked to him. He looked so young and handsome.” She rubbed her forehead and then stared at the ceiling. “He wore a teal sweatshirt that looked brand new and was the same shade as his beautiful eyes and the bill on his Kodiak Flight Services cap.” Her voice caught. “His face was bright. He had his entire future in front of him.”
We were all quiet for several moments. “That’s what I remember when I think about that explosion, Agent Morgan. I don’t grieve my hus
band’s death, but I mourn the loss of that handsome young man.”
I was on the verge of tears myself, fighting for control over my emotions. This day was beginning to wear on me, and I suddenly wanted to be out of this house.
“Mrs. Myers,” Morgan asked, “had you planned to meet your husband when he arrived in town?”
Maryann dropped her hands to her lap. “Oh no, we tried to avoid being in the same town, let alone the same car.”
“Do you know what his plans were?”
Maryann shrugged. “Not really. For some reason, I thought he was planning to catch the evening jet to Anchorage. I don’t know if he told me that or if I just assumed it. He didn’t spend much time in Kodiak. When he came to town, he was usually on his way somewhere else.”
Morgan stood and held out his hand to Maryann, and I felt the knot in my stomach untwist. We finally were getting out of this place.
“Thank you, Maryann. That’s all I have for now, but I hope I can call you if I think of anything else.”
She grasped Morgan’s hand and stood. “Of course, but like I told you before, I don’t know anything that can help you with this investigation.”
“Sometimes, people know more than they realize.”
Maryann followed us through the house, and when we stopped in the front hall to put on our shoes, she opened the front door and ordered her barking dogs to sit. They didn’t want to, but they obeyed the order, tails wagging while they watched us walk to the Explorer.
I started the motor and backed slowly out of the muddy driveway. I reached for my purse to find my sunglasses and then remembered it was still in my lab at the marine center.
“Where to?” I asked.
“Let’s drive back to the marine center and see how the investigation is going.”
“My purse is in a downstairs lab,” I said. “Can we get it?”
Morgan nodded. “I think so.”
“What was your impression of Maryann Myers?” I asked, as we cruised along Russian River Road.
Murder over Kodiak Page 16