Refuge Cove

by Janet Dailey

  “Do you always turn like that?” she asked, still half-breathless.

  “You mean did I do it to scare you? No, it’s just the most efficient way to turn. And it’s not as dangerous as it looks.” He made a slight course correction. “We’re going back over the muskeg where I picked you up. From there, with your help, we might be able to find Boone’s trailer. If he’s there, I’ll radio the state troopers. Keep your eyes open. Let me know if you see anything worth mentioning down there.”

  In other words, he was through talking. It was almost as if she was beginning to understand the man. At least the story about his parents had given her a clue to his brooding, solitary nature. She remembered the photograph she’d seen—John holding the little boy. Was that child his son? What had happened to him?

  She turned toward the side window, which gave her the best view of the ground. From the air, the forest was like a thick green carpet. Here and there, small lakes and open patches of muskeg dotted the landscape. Boone’s truck, she recalled, had been painted in a camouflage pattern. Even the shell that covered the bed was splotched with tan, green, and brown paint. The trailer, she remembered now, had been painted the same way. But the trash-littered clearing around it, and the well-traveled logging road, should make it easy to spot.

  “There’s that patch of muskeg,” he said. “I spotted you coming out on the west side of it. So I take it you were coming from the east, right?”

  Emma struggled to recall the terror-blurred details. “I remember heading toward the sunset. So yes, I was most likely coming from the east. But I was dodging through brush and trees. I changed direction again and again, just to get away.”

  “But the dogs were behind you. They’d have been coming from the trailer.”

  “Yes, that does make sense.” She studied the vast forest below. “I thought my one hope lay in making it to the highway or the water. But I can see from here that I had miles to go. I never would’ve made it, would I?”

  “No, you wouldn’t.”

  “You saved my life, John. I hope I haven’t made you sorry.”

  His muted laugh crackled through the headphones. “Ask me later,” he said.

  With the muskeg as a starting point, he flew in a widening spiral, each loop taking the plane farther to the east. Emma did her best to keep her eyes on the forest below, but after a few minutes of circling she began to feel dizzy. She touched John’s arm, about to say something, when he spoke.

  “Down there. Just ahead. I see something.” Breaking pattern, he flew in lower. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered. “Look at that!”

  Emma gasped when she saw it—the blackened metal frame of a trailer, surrounded by ashes and burnt debris.

  Mute with shock, she stared down as the plane passed over it. She had done this. The fire she’d started as a delaying tactic had spread to the whole trailer.

  She found her voice. “Honest to God, I never meant to do that.”

  “At least I can understand why Boone was after you,” John said. “You’re sure this was the place?”

  “It’s got to be. I can’t believe we didn’t see the smoke last night.”

  “You wouldn’t have seen it over the trees while you were running. And it would have been behind me when I spotted you from the air. Even if we’d known about it, there’s nothing we could’ve done. At least the forest was too wet to burn. And at least we know Boone didn’t die in the fire.”

  “And he saved the dogs. They were miserable beasts, but I wouldn’t have wanted them to die, chained to the wheel like that.” Emma pictured Boone chasing her with murder in his heart. She didn’t want to think about what he might have done if he’d caught her.

  John circled and flew over the spot again. “No sign of the truck. Boone must have moved it away in time to save it.”

  “He probably didn’t have time to save much else,” Emma said. “All my packed things were in the trailer, along with the supplies Boone picked up in town. At a minimum we know that he got away with the truck, his rifle, and the dogs. He probably had my cash on him, too. He’d put it in his pocket.” As the plane circled and flew on, she took a last look at the burnt remains of the trailer. “Where would he go?”

  “Since nobody’s seen him in town, I’m betting he went home to his mother,” John said. “The family homestead is about fifty miles from here. Boone’s brother, Ezra, lives with her. They keep to themselves, run trap lines in the winter for cash. As far as I know, Boone’s the only one who’s into the drug trade. That’s probably why he had that trailer, at a safe distance from the family home. We can fly over, maybe see if Boone’s truck’s there. Are you up for that?”

  “Let’s do it.”

  They fell silent as John banked the plane and flew along the foot of the steep coastal mountain range. Lost in thought, Emma relived last night’s escape, remembering how she’d set the fire and fled.

  She should have realized how swiftly a blaze could spread through the cheap, lightweight materials that most trailers were made of. What if Boone had died in the fire? She could’ve been guilty of murder. As it was, could she be arrested for arson? She would have to ask Judge Falconi about that tomorrow.

  The plane was climbing, gaining altitude. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “We’re getting close to the Swenson place,” he said. “I don’t want to fly in low and spook them, especially since they’d likely recognize the plane. Keep an eye out. Even from ten thousand feet, you should be able to spot Boone’s truck.”

  Emma’s stomach fluttered as the plane climbed and leveled off to a high cruising altitude. From higher up, the trees were a solid green carpet, with small patches of clearing. A blue lake looked like the turquoise stone in a ring. The boat on its surface was no more than a dot.

  “It’s just ahead,” John said. “Look sharp. We’ll only be going over the place once.”

  Emma glued her gaze to the window. Now, below, she saw it—the overgrown sod roof of a lodge-sized cabin, surrounded by small outbuildings and several vehicles and ATV’s. These looked ant-sized, but even at a distance, she recognized Boone’s camouflage-painted pickup.

  “I see it!” she said. “It’s parked next to the cabin.”

  “You’re sure it’s Boone’s truck.”

  “Unless it’s got a twin, I’d know that truck anywhere.”

  He kept a straight course until the cabin was well out of sight. Then he banked a turn and headed back in the direction of Refuge Cove.

  “Are you going to radio the state troopers?” Emma asked.

  “I’ll let them know where Boone is. But don’t expect them to go in after him. That cabin’s built like a fortress, and the Swensons have got enough guns and ammo to hold off an army. Bringing in a scumbag who deceived a woman with a fake wedding and took her money isn’t worth the risk of a bloodbath.”

  Emma chewed on his assessment, knowing John was right, and that she mustn’t take it personally. “So what do we do now?” she asked.

  “I’d say you have a choice,” he said. “You could let me fly you out of here, find a way home to Utah, maybe come back for Boone’s trial if he’s caught, or . . .”

  “Or what? You said if Boone’s caught. What will happen if I leave?”

  “Not much. Sooner or later, he’s liable to get himself caught. But he could stay holed up with his family for months. If he knows you’re gone, and the police are looking for him in town, he’ll have no reason to come in.”

  “And if I choose to stay . . . ?” But he didn’t have to draw her a picture. After what she’d done, Boone would be mad enough to kill her—or make her wish he had. If he knew she was in Ketchikan, he wouldn’t be able to resist coming after her. She would be bait to trap him.

  “You know that I want you to leave.” He lowered the flaps, putting the Beaver into its long descent. “Catching Boone isn’t worth your life.”

  “I’ve already made up my mind. I want to leave Alaska knowing I got the man who wronged me and put hi
m away. I’m staying.”

  “I wish you’d change your mind.”

  “I won’t. I’ve got to see this through.” She paused in thought. “How will he know I’m still in town?”

  “He’s got friends. He’ll know. But you’ll have to be careful. Boone’s a dangerous man.”

  John focused on the controls as the Beaver made its descent toward Refuge Cove. Emma watched him, her thoughts churning. Something he’d told her sounded out of place, and suddenly she realized what it was.

  “One question,” she said. “You seem to know a lot about that cabin and Boone’s family. Have you been there?”

  There was a silent beat while he adjusted the flaps. “Yes, I have,” he said. “For now, that’s all you need to know.”

  CHAPTER 5

  After leaving the plane and picking up the Jeep in Refuge Cove, they drove back into town for a late lunch of hamburgers, fries, and colas. They were both hungry, and the little burger place just north of the tunnel was one of John’s favorites.

  From across the table, John studied the woman who’d dropped into his life out of nowhere. He’d tried hard to talk her into leaving Ketchikan. But even in the face of danger, she could be as stubborn as hard-set concrete.

  How could he make her understand what she was dealing with? Boone had a crazy vindictive streak—hell, the whole family did. He would do his best to protect her, but given Emma’s independent nature, he couldn’t be there for her all the time.

  The more she understood about her situation, the safer she would be. She might even decide to be sensible and leave. Either way, there was no getting around it—it was time for him to come clean about his relationship to the Swenson family.

  “If I’m going to stay here, I’ll need a job and a safe place to live,” she said. “I can’t expect to be your uninvited houseguest forever. And I can’t expect you to chauffeur me into town every day.”

  “You might be safer with me,” he said.

  “Maybe. But I’d be putting you in danger, as well as imposing on your privacy. Lend me a pocket-sized pistol and teach me to shoot it. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

  Brave talk, he thought. But she wasn’t a big girl, and her spunk, even with a gun, wouldn’t be enough to fend off a man like Boone—especially if his mother and brother were to get involved.

  “Let’s take it slow for now,” he said. “Twenty-four hours ago you were still with Boone. Things have changed a lot since then. You’ll need time to settle in and learn your way around. For starters, since we’ve both finished eating, let’s go for a walk. Come on.”

  Since downtown Ketchikan was small enough to explore on foot, they’d parked in the lot by the empty cruise docks on Front Street. He guided her up the slope to the Creek Street Historic District, with its colorful Gold Rush era shops, restaurants, boardwalks, and bridges that crisscrossed the rushing water. With the cruise season over, the crowds were gone, and some businesses were already closed. It was a peaceful place now, perfect for a quiet walk.

  John played tour guide while he wrestled with the hard truths he needed to tell her. “This was a wild neighborhood back in the day,” he said. “Especially during Prohibition—gambling, liquor, sporting ladies, you name it. There’s a hidden path off to your left, over that bridge.” He pointed. “It’s called Married Man’s Trail. The men used it to cut through the woods from their homes so they wouldn’t be caught going back and forth.”

  “For shame!” Her laugh was warm and real. John liked the sound of it. He wouldn’t have minded hearing it again. But she wouldn’t be laughing when she heard what he had to say.

  They came to a sheltered spot at the back of a shop, where a bridge overlooked a tumbling waterfall. A bench stood next to the wooden railing. “Sit down,” he said. “I’ve got something to tell you. Something you need to know before you make plans to stay in Ketchikan.”

  “What is it?” She lowered herself to the end of the bench, a puzzled expression on her pert face. “Is something wrong?”

  “That depends on you. Just hear me out.” He sat on the other end of the bench, leaving a polite distance between them.

  “Earlier, in the plane, you asked me if I’d ever been to the Swenson place. I told you I had.”

  “Yes, and you were very mysterious about it.”

  “What I didn’t tell you was that, at the time I was there, I was married to Boone’s sister.”

  He watched the shock sink in. Her face paled. Her lips parted. Although she hadn’t moved, it was as if she’d shrunk away from him. “Tell me the rest,” she said in a small, cold voice. “All of it.”

  “We were in high school. Boone and I were seniors. Marlena was a year younger, prettiest girl in the whole school. I was one of a dozen boys who had a crush on her. But I was one of the quiet kids who didn’t get noticed much. When she asked me to the Spring Social I was stupefied—didn’t even have a suit to wear. But we managed to have a good time. I had a bottle of whiskey in the car—I’d started drinking before my mother died, and was hitting it pretty heavy by then. To cut to the chase, we both got drunk, and I got her pregnant.

  “Boone beat me up pretty bad when he found out. I didn’t even fight back. Figured I deserved it. After that we had a shotgun wedding and went to live with her mother and Ezra in the bush. Boone came home, too. They all hated me—not only for what I’d done to Marlena, but just because I was Tlingit. As soon as I could, I left and got a job in town, crewing on a fishing boat.

  “After I found a place to live, Marlena came too, and brought our baby boy. But things were never good between us, with me drinking and her climbing the walls because we didn’t have enough money to go out and have fun. We lasted for a couple of years. Then she left me to marry the man I was working for—the man who owned the boat. She took the boy and got full custody. I went off the deep end for a few years, finally started with AA, pulled myself together, got my pilot’s license and bought the Beaver. . . .”

  John’s voice trailed off. He had never told the full story to anyone. Now that he’d done it, he felt physically drained. He’d been looking out at the waterfall and the flock of small brown birds that dipped and darted in the spray. Now he forced himself to turn and look at Emma.

  She sat absolutely still, her hands folded in her lap. In her calm expression, he caught glimpses of shock, sympathy, and wounded anger.

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she asked.

  “Because I didn’t expect it to matter. I thought I could talk you into leaving. You can still leave. Let me fly you out of here. I can deal with Boone when he shows up.”

  “And if I choose to stay?”

  “Then you’ll need to know what you’re dealing with. I’ll do my best to keep you safe, but I can’t do that unless you trust me.”

  Her tightly masked emotions flared to the surface. “Why should I trust you? For heaven’s sake, the man who hurt me is your ex-brother-in-law! He’s your son’s uncle! He’s family—and you’ve only known me for a day!”

  John turned to face her directly. “Look at me while I say this, Emma. These people aren’t my friends. I know Boone and what he’s capable of. If it would keep him from hurting other women the way he hurt you, I’d turn him over to the law in a heartbeat, the consequences be damned. If you don’t believe me—and if you can’t trust me to stand up for you, then you should leave—because right now, I’m all you’ve got. And there’s one thing we both know for certain—you can’t fight Boone alone.”

  Standing, she tore her gaze from his and walked away, across the bridge to the other side of the creek. John didn’t try to follow her. She had no place to go, no option except to come back to him. He kept an eye on her as she stood looking down into a quiet pool below the falls, where the bodies of salmon, their lives given up for the next generation, gleamed like tarnished silver in the depths.

  After several minutes she walked back to face him. “I’ve thought about what you told me,” she said. “Your story
has raised some doubts about my staying. But I’ll sleep on it and give you my decision tomorrow, after I’ve seen the judge.”

  “That sounds reasonable enough.” They walked back along the boardwalk toward Dolly’s House, a former brothel, now a museum and tourist attraction. John lapsed back into the role of guide, trying to ignore the tension that hung between them. They needed a break from each other, some time apart to breathe and think.

  “You’re a teacher,” he said. “Does that mean you like to read?”

  She gave him a strained smile. “Not necessarily. But yes, I love to read. I browsed through your bookshelf while you left me to go to town, but I didn’t see much to catch my interest.”

  “We can fix that,” he said. “Ketchikan has a first-rate bookstore. I’ll treat you to a couple of paperbacks, your choice.”

  “Thanks. I’ll take you up on that.” She seemed genuinely pleased, he thought as they walked the short distance downhill to the bookstore. He was finding that he enjoyed pleasing her. But if the woman had any common sense, she’d allow him to fly her to Sitka. She’d be out of danger and out of his life. Wasn’t that what he really wanted?

  * * *

  In the bookstore, Emma chose a couple of juicy-looking bestsellers by women authors. John paid for them at the checkout counter. She might not have accepted even this small gift, but she knew he was buying her books to ensure himself some peace in the cabin. She meant to give him just that. The long day had worn her out. Curling up by the fire with a good book sounded like a delicious idea.

  They walked back to the Jeep and took the road out of town. The sun was already low in the sky. Boone had mentioned to her that, in Alaska, darkness moved in early. In midwinter, he’d said, the daylight was so brief and the nights so long that people tended to get blue and surly from so much darkness. But for lovers, he’d said with a smile, the nights were never too long.

  Boone.

  Heaven help her, she’d been so love starved that she’d clung to his every word. He’d fed her a line of pretty words. She’d swallowed it whole and nearly paid a terrible price.