by Sue Pethick
Tiffany swallowed. She knew how violent Seth could get when he was angry, and Sam would be furious if anything happened to his dog.
“I didn’t hear anything,” she said. “It must have just been the once.”
“Well, once is one time too many. You shut him up or I will.”
She nodded, staring at the bulge in his jacket.
“Did you get the stuff?”
He drew the baggie slowly out of his pocket, smirking.
“You mean this?”
Tiffany’s eyes widened. Her fingers itched to grab it out of his hand and shove him aside, but she didn’t dare. Instead, she feigned indifference.
“Yeah, I guess.”
Seth laughed. “Give me a kiss first.”
She did, wincing as he grabbed her, hoping it wouldn’t go any further. When he was finished, he pushed her away and reached into the bag.
“What are you doing?”
“This one’s for the dog,” he said.
He raised an eyebrow, daring her to try to stop him. Tiffany was torn. She didn’t know what it would do to Sam’s dog, but she was hurting real bad, and if she argued, Seth might not give her the rest. She closed her eyes, wishing she weren’t so weak.
“Sure,” she said. “Good idea.”
Seth smiled triumphantly.
“Here you go,” he said, tossing the bag to her. “It’s good stuff. Don’t be greedy.”
CHAPTER 29
Emily pressed her nose against the window as the plane neared Ketchikan, trying to peer through the heavy cloud cover to the water below. The first time she’d flown there, she’d hardly given a thought to the men and ships who fished off the Alaskan coast. Now, her entire perspective had changed. She smiled and bit her lip.
Somewhere down there is the man I love.
A voice boomed over the cabin’s speakers, reminding the passengers to remain seated with their seat belts fastened as the plane began its descent. Successive storms coming out of the west had made for a bumpy flight all the way up the West Coast and would no doubt make for a tricky landing, as well. Emily put her book away and made sure her seat was upright. Compared to what Sam must be going through, she thought, a little turbulence was nothing.
Rain was pelting down by the time they landed. Once again, Tim Garrett would be picking her up. Emily had hesitated to ask him for a ride so soon after her departure, but with Sam gone and Marilyn on bed rest, there hadn’t been a whole lot of options. Luckily, Tim had agreed immediately, telling her it was no problem and dismissing her offer of payment. Emily hadn’t given him an explanation for her sudden change of plans, and he didn’t ask for one. Maybe when she felt stronger she’d fill him in on the details, but first she’d have to make sense of them herself.
Things hadn’t gone quite the way Emily had expected when she got home from Frank Alfano’s office. Not only did Prentices not elope, she was told, they also didn’t scream at each other like banshees. Instead, she and her mother had had a tight-lipped exchange of accusations and counterclaims so bloodless that Emily had quickly lost heart—which, on reflection, had probably been the point. Her mother’s refusal to admit she’d done anything wrong had effectively robbed Emily of an argument, and without an apology or even an explanation from her mother, Emily found she couldn’t forgive her for what she’d done. Things were said that she was sure they both regretted, but nothing was taken back. Instead, Emily had packed her things, arranged to have her car shipped to Sam’s address, and taken off. Perhaps time and distance would give them both a different perspective, but at the moment, it seemed unlikely.
She only hoped that Sam wouldn’t be hurt by the trust fund debacle. Before leaving, Emily had called Marilyn and asked her to tell Sam she’d changed her mind about buying the tender, but she had no idea if the message had gotten back to him. It had been a foolishly extravagant offer—she realized that now. Unless she wanted to blow through the rest of her trust fund as thoughtlessly as her mother had, Emily would have to learn some hard lessons about spending her money wisely.
And that wasn’t the only lesson it had taught her. Looking back at her own feeble attempts at independence, Emily realized that it wasn’t just Uncle Danny who’d given in to her mother’s demands rather than standing firm. Had she not been so complaisant, in fact, Emily doubted her mother would ever have been able to raid the trust fund as long as she had. Embarrassing as it was, she’d had to admit that Richard Feynman was right: Emily herself had been the easiest person to fool.
Tim waved as she hurried toward the security gate and gave her a tentative hug. They headed down to baggage claim to retrieve her luggage—“Just one this time!”—then tried not to get soaked as they ran to his Jeep.
“Where to?” he asked as they got in line for the ferry.
She gave him Marilyn’s address.
“After that,” Emily said, “if you could just drop me off at Sam’s, that’d be great.”
“Sure thing.”
As the ferry set out across the water, Emily was filled with conflicting emotions. Coming back to Ketchikan felt deeply satisfying. It had been her choice alone—one that had nothing to do with polishing her resume or improving her chances of getting a job, or anything else other than doing what she pleased. At the same time, though, she was almost sick with fear. What if this was a mistake? She’d spent so much of her life trying to please other people that she’d almost forgotten how to ask herself what it was she wanted. Like a fledgling teetering on the edge of its nest, she wanted to try her wings but couldn’t forget that it was a long way down.
“You okay?”
Emily looked over at Tim and nodded.
“Sorry,” she said. “Just lost in my own thoughts.”
“Oh, hey. Don’t let me interrupt you, then.”
“No. No, it’s fine; I could use the distraction. What’s up?”
He grinned.
“I think we’re getting closer to finding out who our drug smuggler is.”
“Really! That’s great. Who’s your suspect?”
“Not sure who yet, but we’ve figured out how and when.” He sobered. “We know it’s someone inside the cannery, and we know it started about a year ago last May.”
“So, not quite as long ago as you thought.”
“That’s the way it looks.”
“I hope you find them soon. I’m sure the other interns will be happy to hear it. We were all pretty concerned.”
When they pulled up at Marilyn’s, Emily hopped out and ran for the door. Jane was waiting for her with the keys.
“How’s she doing?” Emily asked.
“Better,” she said. “Tired. Baby’s getting big.”
“Will she be at the dock tomorrow when the ship gets in?”
“I know she wants to. We’ll have to see.”
“All right. Tell her to call me if she needs anything.”
At Sam’s, Tim got Emily’s bag out of the Jeep as she ran to open the front door. He set it inside and gave her a look that was full of concern.
“You sure you don’t want me to go with you to get the dog? It’s no problem.”
“No, I’ll be okay,” she said. “But thanks.”
Emily gave him a brief hug, then stood at the door and waved while he drove off. She hesitated at the threshold, taking in the unremarkable furnishings. What a difference this place was from her mother’s home: no interior designer had coordinated the color scheme; no feng shui practitioner had decided where the furniture should be placed; the curtains that hung from simple brass rods bore no fashionable labels. After the life she’d had up until then, could she really be happy living like that for the rest of it? Then she took a deep breath and realized that there were two things it had that no other place in the world did: Sam and Bear.
Emily hurried into the bedroom and started rooting through Sam’s dresser, looking for the key to the Jeep. Digging through his socks and underwear felt strangely intimate, and she felt her face warm. What would happen whe
n he got home? Was this a relationship that would last forever, or just a stepping-stone on the way to another life entirely?
One thing at a time. Get Bear first, then you can think about the future.
* * *
The road out to Tiffany’s was so rutted and ruined that Emily almost turned around before she reached the house, sure that Jane must have given her the wrong address. When she finally found the place, she rolled to a stop and stared out the window, feeling real sympathy for Tiffany’s situation. The place was a wreck, the perfect illustration of just how low addiction had laid her. What a depressing place to live.
She got out of the Jeep and ran to the door, carefully picking her way around the trash and cast-off merchandise strewn around the yard. How must Tiffany feel when she compared this place to Sam’s tidy home? Or did none of it matter as long as she stayed high?
Emily rang the bell but got no answer, then rang it again and rapped sharply on the door. She heard whimpering coming from the garage and realized that it must be Bear. When there was still no answer to another series of knocks, she went over to the garage to see if it would open. Grabbing the handle, she yanked and felt the door start to rise.
The first thing Emily noticed was the smell. She held her breath, trying not to gag—urine and feces were everywhere. Emily felt her temper rise as she looked around. The floor was littered with empty pizza boxes and fast food containers, but there was neither water nor dog food—not even an empty bowl—in sight. Had Bear been trapped in there this whole time?
“Bear?” she said, searching the dark room. “Where are you?”
She saw a dark shape cowering in the far corner.
“Oh, Bear,” she said, hurrying toward him. “You poor thing.”
At the sound of Emily’s voice, the dog stood unsteadily. His coat was dusty and his eyes dull. How long had it been, Emily wondered, since he’d been given anything to eat or drink?
“Hold on,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
The door to the house was unlocked. Emily found a mixing bowl in the sink. She filled it with water and took it back to the garage.
“There you go.”
Angry tears filled her eyes as she watched Bear lap up the water. What must the last few days have been like for him, without food, without water, forced to relieve himself on the concrete floor? As the stench increased and his hunger and thirst intensified, had he wondered where Sam was and why his cries were unanswered? A hot tear ran down her cheek. How could anyone have left her sweet boy out there like that?
When Bear had finished the first bowlful, Emily went back inside and got another for him.
“Here you go,” she said as she set it down. “Take it easy, though. Don’t make yourself sick.”
Emily went back into the house to look for something to write on. She couldn’t just take Sam’s dog without letting Tiffany know where he was. As bad as this situation was, she was sure there had to be an explanation. Sam wouldn’t have trusted his ex to watch Bear if he didn’t think she’d take care of him. Maybe Tiffany had gotten sick or been injured. It must have been something serious for her to have left the dog in this state.
She searched the kitchen drawers, finding precious little in the way of cooking utensils or even food, much less a pencil and paper. The depressed feeling Emily had when she drove up intensified. It was as if the house had been abandoned and no one really lived there—at least not in a way that seemed normal and rational to her. She walked into the living room and gasped.
Tiffany was lying on the couch, skeletal and pale. Her arms lay at odd angles; a bony leg hung off the edge. She looked like a marionette someone had flung aside. Emily froze in terror, convinced she was dead. Then Tiffany softly snored, and she sighed in relief.
“Tiffany, wake up. I came to get Sam’s dog.”
There was no response.
“Hey, are you okay?”
She put a hand on Tiffany’s shoulder and shook her. The woman’s head lolled, but she didn’t wake.
Emily recoiled, her heart pounding. Tiffany wasn’t sleeping, she was unconscious. She took out her phone and dialed 911.
“I need an ambulance.” She gave the operator the address. “Please hurry. I think it may be an overdose.”
The operator asked if she could stay there until they arrived, and Emily said she would. She double-checked that Tiffany was still breathing, then went into the bedroom for a blanket to cover her. Once that was done, though, Emily was at a loss. What else could she do? Nothing in her life had prepared her for a situation like that. All she could do was pray that the EMTs would hurry.
She heard the click of claws on linoleum as Bear came into the house. Two bowls of water and a chance to escape his hellish prison seemed to have restored his spirits. When he saw Tiffany, he walked over and nosed her arm, whining, then gently laid his head in her lap. It confirmed Emily’s suspicion that Bear’s condition had not been Tiffany’s fault.
“It’s okay. She’s going to be all right,” she said, hoping it was true.
The sound of an engine approaching sent Emily running for the door, but instead of an ambulance charging up the driveway, she saw a black Toyota Land Cruiser skid to a stop. As the driver got out and slammed his door, Emily gasped.
Noah.
“Tiffany!” he yelled. “Why’s the garage door open?”
Danger signs were flashing in Emily’s head as she watched him lower the tailgate and start offloading boxes. What had Tim told her about the drug smuggling? It had started a year ago in May—Noah’s brother had been an intern then. It was an inside job—the interns had access to everything in the cannery. She remembered, too, how Noah had first pooh-poohed the problems at the cannery, then tried to cast suspicion on Tim when Emily refused to ignore them.
Noah hadn’t seen her yet, too busy moving boxes from the truck bed into the garage, but any minute now, he’d see her standing there. Emily glanced back at the couch. Tiffany was still unconscious, Bear at her side, neither one in a position to defend themselves.
It’s up to me.
She stepped outside and closed the door behind her. Noah caught sight of her and scowled.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to get Sam’s dog.”
He closed the garage and took a step toward her.
“That all?”
Emily shook her head. There was no way Noah was going to let her walk out of there now that she knew his secret. The second she let her guard down, he’d be on top of her.
“Tiffany’s passed out on the couch. I’m waiting for an ambulance.”
He took another step.
“Maybe you should wait in the truck,” she said.
Noah smirked.
“Are you kidding? I live here.”
“I don’t care. Just stay out there.”
Noah laughed and took another step.
“What if I don’t?”
Emily nodded. If he wouldn’t back down, she’d need to be ready to defend herself. The ambulance would be there soon. All she had to do was keep him distracted until it arrived. She adjusted her stance, willing herself to relax.
“You think you’re going to scare me with that aikido stuff?” he said. “Logan Marsh is a wasted old man and he almost took your arm off.”
He lunged, and Emily lifted her arm as if to ward him off. When Noah seized it, she drew the arm sharply back, throwing him off balance. As he stumbled forward, she placed her free hand on his shoulder, spun him under her lifted arm, and pulled him over onto his back. Noah made a satisfying grunt as he landed.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said.
Emily had thought he’d back off once he got the wind knocked out of him. Instead, Noah scrambled to his feet and came at her again.
This time, Emily lifted both of her arms in a defensive posture. Noah grabbed one in each hand. She pulled her right arm down hard, raised her left as he fell forward, and pulled Noah’s right arm over his shoulder, puttin
g him on the ground a second time.
“Please don’t do this,” she said as he lay there panting. “As soon as the ambulance gets here—”
He rolled over, glaring at her.
“You think I’m going to let you just drive off after you’ve seen me here?”
As Noah rose up a second time, Emily took a step back. After two hard throws, he should have been on the ground, gasping like a fish out of water. Instead, he was preparing to attack again. What was going on?
She noted the pulse throbbing in his neck, the dilated pupils that made his eyes glitter, and realized with dismay that whatever drug he was on had given him more strength and willingness to use it than she’d bargained for. Even as she heard a siren wailing faintly in the distance, Emily realized that stalling for time was no longer an option. Noah was prepared to do anything to keep his secret—even kill her, if necessary. She had to end this now.
He lunged—a feint—looking for an opening. Emily stepped aside.
“You won’t hurt me,” he taunted. “Isn’t that what you said? Hurting your opponent isn’t the point of aikido.”
He lunged again, this time in earnest, and grabbed her shirt with both hands. Emily jerked in one direction, then the other, but his grip was firm. Unable to break free, she twisted in his grasp and bent forward.
Noah’s arms were on either side of her neck now, but she could tell she’d thrown him off balance. Emily reached down, wrapped her arms around his legs, and lifted him off his feet. This time, the air exploded from his lungs as Noah hit the ground. As he rolled over, gasping for air, she placed one foot on his back and twisted his right arm up and around, taking his shoulder just to the edge of dislocation.
“You’re right,” Emily said as the ambulance came into view. “I don’t want to hurt you.” She smiled. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t.”
CHAPTER 30
It was the morning of the last day on the Skippy Lou, and Sam couldn’t wait for it to end. Nine days of backbreaking work had yielded fewer than half the fish they’d anticipated on this run, and morale onboard was low. Everyone was irritable, everyone was tired or injured, and everyone was making mistakes. Adding to their misery, a squall had come up overnight, bringing with it sheets of rain as dense as fog. Most of the fleet had turned for home to wait out the storm, but Hollander had only dug in his heels. Their sonar had found a school of fish half a mile out, and he was determined to take as much of it as he could. Like a gambler on a losing streak, he was betting on one big strike to wipe out his losses.