“Is she still in the hospital?”
She folded her arms across her body and thrust her chin in the air. “You stay away from her!”
“You bitch!” I said. The muscles in my right arm tightened as I fought the desire to slap her.
Peter had been talking to a police officer, but when he heard my raised voice, he pivoted on the balls of his feet.
Betty glared at me and hurried away toward the parking lot. Peter approached, his head tilted, studying me as if he’d never seen me before. “What was that about?”
“Betty has a problem with me,” I said. “Her attitude is starting to irritate me.”
Peter reached out and rested his hand on my shoulder. He squeezed gently. “This has been a bad week, hasn’t it, Jane?”
“I’d say so.”
“And I haven’t been much help.”
“I understand that the marine center is your first concern, Peter.”
“I don’t blame you for this. You know that, don’t you?”
I didn’t, and his words made me feel better.
“I don’t understand what’s going on, but I don’t think you do either.”
“I wish I knew, Peter. I’d tell you if I did.”
“You have a police guard, don’t you?” He nodded behind me, and I turned and saw Wesley standing twenty feet behind me. I’d almost forgotten he was there.
“Yes, the FBI thinks someone is trying to kill me. They believe yesterday’s bomb was meant for me, but it’s not because of something I did. I would never intentionally put anyone at the marine center in danger.”
Peter nodded. “I know that,” he said. “Listen, your research is important, but I don’t expect you to continue under these circumstances. Why don’t you take some time off and go away for a while? I’ll get someone to take over your class. When the police catch the people responsible for this, you can come back.”
“No,” I said. “I have a collection trip planned for tomorrow, and I’m going on it.” I realized I’d raised my voice, and looked around, alarmed. Several of my coworkers still stood in the courtyard, their eyes fixed on me.
What was I doing, shouting my plans so everyone could hear? While I was at it, I might as well announce the time of my flight and which plane I was chartering.
Peter gripped my elbow and walked me toward the building. “Be careful, Jane,” he whispered. “Too many people have died already.
I went down to the lab and began packing my gear. Except for the cloying smell of smoke, the basement labs appeared untouched by the blast. At first, I’d thought this would be an easy task. Since I’d already gathered most of my camping gear, I planned to haul it upstairs and throw it into my Explorer. It wasn’t until I walked into the lab that I realized I also would have to pack and move my centrifuge and my chromatography and spectography equipment.
I collapsed on the lab stool, propped my elbow on the table, and rubbed my temples. Maybe Peter was right. Perhaps I should just go away for a few weeks.
“Hey, Doc, you okay?” Geoff’s voice brought an instant smile to my face.
I swiveled on the stool and looked at him. He wore a faded denim sweatshirt and dirty blue jeans. “You’re a welcome sight,” I said.
“That must mean you need help moving things.”
“Now that you mention it...”
He grinned. “All the women want me for my back.”
“It must be hell.”
“I have a few more things to move from my lab, and then I’m all yours.”
“My heart’s racing now,” I said.
Geoff’s cheerful mood and offer of help lifted the storm clouds a little. I would get through this somehow. For now, I could move my equipment to the Fish and Game building, but I would need a lab to test the bivalve samples as soon as I returned from my collection trip. It will work out, I told myself. If nothing else, I could work at night in someone else’s lab.
It took us three hours to load and move everything to the Fish and Game building. The biologists in the second floor crustacean research lab greeted me with more cordiality than I could have hoped for. They not only allowed me to store all my equipment there, but gave me workspace in the corner of the room. I made a mental note to thank them in my acknowledgments when I published the article on my work.
Geoff was given a small work area in the basement of the Fish and Game building, and I helped him carry his gear down there. I then made one more trip to the marine center to grab my camping gear and load it in the back of the Explorer.
I called Kodiak Flight Services and asked the dispatcher if I could speak with Steve. A moment later his deep voice came on the line.
I told him I had most of my gear with me and asked him if I brought it over to the hangar today if he could assure me that it would be kept in a locked room.
“I’ll lock it in my personal storage room,” he said. “No one but me has the key to that.”
“Great,” I said. “There’s one more thing I need to ask you.”
“Yes, Jane. I will be your pilot tomorrow, and I will check every square inch of the plane.”
I laughed. “You don’t get paid enough to put up with customers like me, do you?”
“I never get paid enough,” Steve said. “Bring your gear over here as soon as you can, and I’ll store it for you.”
The tent, radio, antenna, battery, shovel, collection bags, buckets, sieve, shotgun, and shells were already in the back of my Explorer, but I would have to stop by my apartment for my sleeping bag and clothes, and I was not looking forward to going back there. I knew Morgan would not approve of me returning, but under Wesley’s protection, I would be safe.
Wesley followed me to my apartment, and I walked up to his car to let him know what I was doing. He nodded. “I’ll follow you upstairs to your apartment, check it out, and then stand guard outside while you get your things.”
His confidence relaxed me. Anyone would be crazy to attack me in the middle of the day while an armed policeman was escorting me. Of course, someone could have planted a bomb in my apartment, rigged to explode when the front door was pushed open. A platoon of policemen couldn’t protect me against that. I shook the thought from my head as Wesley followed me up the stairs of my complex and waited while I inserted the key into the door lock. Wesley was tall and muscular, and his bulk felt reassuring as he stood behind me.
I closed my eyes, turned the key, and pushed on the door. The door opened easily, and after a few seconds of silence, I opened my eyes.
My apartment was just as I had left it. If anyone had been there since I had, he’d left no visible trace. Wesley pushed past me and quickly checked all the rooms. I walked into the kitchen to wait for him and saw the light blinking on my answering machine. I reflexively pushed the replay button and then wondered if I should have waited to do that until Wesley was there.
I had one message, and it was from Dana Baynes. “My goodness, girl,” her husky voice rasped from my machine. “What’s going on? If half of the rumors I’ve heard are true, you’re up to your eyebrows in crap. Call me as soon as you get this.”
“Ma’am?” Wesley had heard the voice and hurried to my aid.
“Just the answering machine, David. Sorry, I guess I should have waited for you before I played it.”
His expression remained wide-eyed and serious. “I can’t tell if anyone has been in here, but there’s no one here now.”
“Thanks, David, I’ll hurry.”
“I’ll be outside if you need me.”
It took me less than five minutes to collect my gear and lock the apartment. Wesley carried my sleeping bag, while I hauled my backpack down to the Explorer. I climbed into the driver’s seat, told Wesley my next stop would be Kodiak Flight Services, and then waited while he got into his car and started the engine.
I drove on the Chiniak Highway. Even though my flight would leave from Trident Basin, near the marine center, the Kodiak Flight Services office was located at the airport, five mil
es southwest of town. I would fly on a floatplane, but the bulk of Kodiak Flight Services’ business was conducted on three wheel planes that flew passengers and freight between Kodiak and the six small villages on the island, so the main office, hangar, and warehouse were located at the airport.
I parked in the charter service’s lot and was opening the back door of the Explorer when Steve Duncan hurried out the front door to help me.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m a little jumpy, but fine otherwise.”
“I know what you mean. I keep expecting someone to come after me, looking for the briefcase. I was at the crash site, too.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “For some reason, Jack Justin got it in his head that I took the briefcase, and before he died, he apparently convinced some very nasty people of that.”
“You’re sure you still want to go on that camping trip tomorrow?”
“As long as you still want to fly me.”
Steve smiled. “I’m not worried. I’ve been checking my planes over pretty carefully the last few days, and tomorrow I’ll triple check the plane I plan to use for your flight.”
“I’m actually looking forward to this trip,” I said. “I’ll feel safer when I’m out of town.”
“As long as no one follows you,” Steve said.
Chapter Twelve
Steve and I piled my gear in a small room, and I watched him shut off the light and lock the door.
“Is that all your gear?” he asked.
“Except for some personal things I’ll need tonight.”
“What about a heater or cook stove?”
I shook my head. “I’ve decided to keep it simple. It’s warm enough that I shouldn’t need heat, and I’ll eat sandwiches.”
“Jane,” Steve gripped my shoulders. “Fuels did not cause the Beaver to explode. You can bring propane, kerosene, and Blazo. I’ll be careful where I load them.”
“It’s not that, Steve.” I looked down. “Really, I just don’t want to fool with all that.”
I knew Steve didn’t believe me. Why should he? I didn’t believe it either.
When I got back to my vehicle, I called Dana.
“What’s going on?” she asked as soon as the refuge receptionist put my call through. “Are these rumors true? Was the bomb at the marine center meant for you?”
“I don’t know, Dana.” I’d grown up in a small town and knew all about rumors and gossip, but sometimes the grapevine in Kodiak astounded me.
“You really sound tired.” She paused a moment. “Okay, I’m taking over. You are staying with me tonight. I’ll get off work early.”
“No,” I said. “You don’t want me and my problems in your home.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You don’t understand, Dana. The people who planted the bomb at the marine center think I have something they want. I have a police guard following me everywhere.”
“Then get rid of him. Tonight you’ll stay with me, and no one will find you. Besides, I’ve got two shotguns if we need them.”
“This isn’t a joke, Dana.”
“I’m not joking. Where do you think you’d be safer, tucked away at some friend’s house in the country, or in town with a policeman following you around? You might as well wear fluorescent pink, so the terrorists can fix their rifle scopes on you.”
“Thanks, I feel so much better now.”
“I’ll meet you at my place in an hour.”
I got out of the Explorer and walked over to Wesley’s car. “A friend who lives in Bell’s Flats has asked me to stay with her. I guess I won’t need your protection anymore.”
Wesley straightened. “No ma’am. I have direct orders to stay with you all day. I can’t quit trailing you until those orders are rescinded.”
I sighed. “I’ll call Morgan.”
“Are you okay?” Morgan’s voice was strained. “Have you heard from the man with the accent again?”
“No, I’m fine. I’d just like you to tell Wesley he can go home.”
There was a brief pause, and then Morgan said, “I won’t do that.”
“Dana Baynes, a friend, has invited me to stay at her house in Bell’s Flats. I’ll go there and stay there until my flight tomorrow. I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Morgan, you can’t force me to have a bodyguard. I can take care of myself.”
“It’s your call.” Icicles hung from his words, and I understood why he was angry. He’d gone out of his way to protect me, and now I was refusing his protection.
“There is something I need to tell you, though,” I said. “When I went back into the hotel this morning to get my jacket, I saw Maryann Myers hugging David Sturman, and it was more than a friendly embrace.”
Morgan sighed, and I could imagine him rubbing his forehead. “I’ll check into it,” he said.
I handed the phone to Wesley and watched him as he stood straight, receiver to his ear. I wondered how long he had been out of the military. He still stood at attention while receiving orders.
“Yes sir,” he said after a few moments, and then listened again. “Yes sir,” he repeated, and handed the phone to me.
“Listen, Nick, I appreciate the guard,” I said. “David has been great, and I’ve felt very safe under his protection. I just don’t need him anymore.”
Morgan was silent, and I thought for a moment that he’d hung up. “Are you there?” I asked.
“Yes.” His voice had thawed a couple degrees. “Do you have room on your charter tomorrow?”
“Yes, why?” I wiped a sweaty palm on my jeans.
“I want to spend some time at the crash site. I may even stay a night or two there.”
So, convenience and economy were the only reasons Morgan wanted to share my airplane. I didn’t know why I felt disappointed. The arrangement was logical and splitting the charter with Morgan would save my department money.
“You’re taking a sideband radio?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll take one, too, so we can communicate with each other.”
“Okay,” I said. “That sounds good. Can I ask why you’re going out there?”
“I want to take a better look at the debris; make sure we didn’t miss anything.”
I knew the briefcase was the “debris” he was searching for, but he probably didn’t want to mention the briefcase over the phone.
“Are you still planning to camp alone?” he asked.
“Just me.”
“I wish you would reconsider.”
“I have a shotgun; I’ll be safe.”
“A bomb specialist will look over the plane before we get on it.”
“You’d better talk to Steve Duncan about that,” I said.
“I will, but I’m sure he’ll be happy for the assistance.”
I wondered how happy Steve would be if a television crew filmed a bomb expert crawling around one of his planes before a flight. That sort of publicity would not help reinstate public confidence in the safety of his charter company.
“The flight is at 10:00,” I said. “I’ll meet you at Trident Basin fifteen minutes before the flight.”
“Promise you’ll call me, Jane, if anyone contacts you, or if anything unusual happens, and I mean anything.”
“I will.”
“Call the police if you can’t reach me.”
“Thanks, Nick,” I said. “For everything.”
Wesley still stood beside me, his arms folded across his chest.
I smiled at him as I hung up the phone. “I guess you can go home.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Thanks for taking care of me.” I held out my hand, and he gripped it in a firm shake.
“Just doing my job, ma’am.”
I sat in my Explorer and let the engine idle until I saw Wesley exit onto the highway and turn toward town. I pulled out of the lot and turned in the opposite direction. I followed the Chiniak Highway fo
r five miles and stopped at a small grocery/liquor store. I bought bread, bologna, and mayonnaise to make sandwiches for my camping trip, and I also picked up a twelve pack of Diet Pepsi and three bags of chips, one for tonight and two for the trip. I selected a bottle of Merlot and hesitated in front of the frozen pizzas, but I didn’t want to second-guess Dana’s plans for the evening.
I paid the cashier for my groceries and walked slowly toward the Explorer. I loaded the bags inside and looked at my watch. I was twenty minutes early, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go, and I felt vulnerable sitting in the grocery store parking lot.
I meandered down Russian Creek Road and climbed the steep drive to Dana’s cabin. A large Golden Retriever greeted me, barking and jumping up and down in front of the Explorer. It seemed as if everyone in Bell’s Flats owned at least one dog, and if there was a leash law, no one obeyed it.
I opened my door. “Hey, Sergeant, how you doing? He jumped up on me, smearing muddy paws across my jeans. “Good dog, just what I needed.” I tried without success to push him away. Only the sound of an approaching vehicle distracted his attention, and I turned and smiled as I saw Dana’s blue Ford pickup bounce up the drive toward me.
“You’re early,” she said as she swung out of the door of the pickup, a grocery bag in one hand and two rented videos gripped in the other.
“I hope those aren’t horror movies,” I said.
“Romantic comedies.”
Its previous owner, who was a carpenter and cabinet maker, had built Dana’s tiny home. There was no wasted space in the cabin that consisted of a small bathroom and one larger room with a loft. The downstairs portion was divided between a living room and a kitchen. I knew my bed for the night would be the living room couch that pulled out into a bed. The cedar walls were loaded with cubbyholes, drawers, and hidden closets that opened to reveal an amazing amount of storage space. Dana’s home was perfect for one person, and I always jokingly was trying to convince her to sell it to me.
I looked around as I piled my bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. The house was spotless, as it always was, and it struck me that Dana took better care of her home than she did herself. Her hair never appeared combed, she wore very little makeup, and except on those few occasions when she was forced to wear a refuge uniform, she rarely dressed in anything other than jeans.
Murder over Kodiak Page 19