by Al Boudreau
Yet, I would have bet any money the Taylor men had aged 5 years from one photo to the next.
Carol Taylor wasn’t present in the most recent photo, so I closed my eyes and did my best to visualize, in my mind’s eye, what she looked like when I’d seen her earlier today. Convinced I had a decent mental picture, I opened my eyes and looked at the computer screen.
Though not as blatantly obvious as the Taylor men, Carol looked as though the past two years had been less than kind as well.
I tossed the photo onto my desk and sat back in my chair, bewildered by the drastic physical transformation of their family in such a short time frame. I was aware of two sure-fire causes of people aging prematurely: illness, and stress.
Carol Taylor hadn’t mentioned a word about any members of her family being ill, but that didn’t necessarily rule out the possibility.
Stress, on the other hand, was a known entity in their world, due to the loss of a family member. Dealing with losing someone prematurely was difficult, but was its impact enough to cause such a remarkable change. Less than six months had passed since Frenchie Taylor’s death. Was his absence solely responsible for the toll taken on the Taylor clan, or were there other forces at work, causing undue pressure?
Enough pressure to make three individuals look like they’d been through a storm fierce enough to physically change them?
I wasn’t always the best judge of the hows and whys of the world, but I knew someone who was.
She’d be home soon. And she’d definitely have an opinion.
Chapter 13
“Are you gonna sleep all day?” Sarah asked as she shook my arm.
I stretched my aching body out to the full length of my office couch. “What time did you get in?” I asked while shielding my eyes from the sun streaming through the window.
“A little after eleven.”
“Why so late?” I asked, easing myself up into a sitting position.
“I stopped in to say hello to Jackie on the way back from the mall. And, we got to jibber jabbering. You know how that goes.”
“You should have---”
“Carter, I called and left a message on your cell … and I woke you up when I got in. You must have really been out of it. You didn’t respond to either of my attempts to reach you.”
“OK. Sorry. What time is it?”
“Almost eight.”
I inhaled hard before reaching out and grabbing Sarah’s hand, the scent of morning joe filling my nostrils.
“C’mon, you lazy bum,” she said, straining to pull me up to my feet. “Coffee’s ready.”
“Mind pouring us a couple mugs and bringing them in here?” I asked. “I have a discovery to review with you. I need to get your take on it.”
Sarah shrugged. “Sure. Be right back.”
I sat down at my desk and brought the picture from the article up on my computer screen, then glanced back and forth between it and the snapshot Carol Taylor had provided. After a few seconds I felt comfortable with the determination I’d made last night: the Taylors had aged significantly in a short period of time.
“Aww, that’s a great photo of the three of them,” Sarah said as she snuck up behind me with our coffee. “They all look so young in that shot.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I thought maybe I was going crazy.”
“What?” Sarah asked as she handed me my mug. “I don’t understand.”
I kept my mouth shut for a beat and held the recent photo of the Taylor men up beside the computer screen.
“Yeah, they’ve definitely aged since that Coast Guard picture was taken,” Sarah said. “I still don’t get why you thought you were going crazy.”
“How much time would you guess had passed from one shot to the next?”
Sarah tossed her hands out away from her sides. “Oh, gosh, I don’t know. Five, maybe six years.”
I smiled and nodded. “Same here, and we were both way off. Two years.”
“No way!”
“I couldn’t believe it, either. I checked, then double checked.”
Sarah studied the photo of Don and Jason closely. “Taken late last year.”
“Yep. Three months ago,” I said. “And the picture on my computer is from an article written just over two years old. Which jibes with what Carol told us about Jason joining the Coast Guard roughly two years ago.”
“I remember,” Sarah replied. “You know, being outside a lot can age a person’s complexion pretty darn quickly. Let’s not forget, Don and Jason both work on the water.”
“True, but don’t you think the change is a little too drastic to attribute to the elements? Plus, they’d both been working on the water long before that first shot was taken.”
Sarah raised her eyebrows. “That’s true. Carol didn’t mention any of them being sick, did she?”
“Nope. Which leads me to believe there’s only one other reasonable explanation.”
Sarah nodded. “Stress. All you have to do is look at the before and after pictures of any US president to see what stress does to a person. Four years of doing that job ages them ten.”
“Yep, so let me ask you this. Do you think there are details of their lives Carol Taylor isn’t sharing with us?”
“I doubt it, but maybe hubby Don is keeping secrets from Carol. From what I can remember, she doesn’t look as stressed out as her husband and son do.”
“I thought the same thing,” I said as I slid my chair out away from my desk. “The plot thickens.”
“Uh-huh. You planning on taking a shower before we head over to the river?”
“Yes, ma’am. Right now.”
* * *
“There’s Everett’s boat,” Sarah said, excitement in her voice. “He kept his promise.”
I pulled my car up close to the dock and got out. “Mr. Greedy, the new owner of my watch, said we could leave our car in his driveway while we’re on Everett’s boat,” I said as I pulled our overnight bags out of the back seat.
“That’s mighty generous of him,” Sarah said, shaking her head. “Maybe I should go park it. I’d like the opportunity to share my thoughts with the guy.”
I smiled. “C’mon, Miss Feisty. Let’s bring these bags down to Juneau. Maybe you can get us settled in while I park.”
“Do you always have to spoil all my fun?” Sarah asked, flashing me one of her fake pouts.
“Sorry,” I said as we headed down the dock. “I’ll try to make it up to you on the boat tonight.”
Sarah slapped me on the backside. “I’m gonna hold you to it.”
“We have to stay awake, anyway. That ship tracking website said the Sandakan Sun is due in at 5 am, but we don’t know if that’s the hour they arrive at the dock, or if that’s just when the ship is due in our waters.”
“Shame on that website for not specifying,” Sarah said, then began laughing. “Don’t they know detectives rely on their app? I have a mind to rattle their cage. Tell ‘em to get with the program. We need way more information than they’re giving us.”
I jumped down onto the deck of Juneau. “Good idea. I’m sure the folks who run the website will get right on it.”
“Oh my goodness, I’m so excited,” Sarah said as she joined me on board. “Who else gets to do a stakeout on a beautiful boat like this?”
I set our belongings down then climbed back up onto the dock.
“Whoa,” Sarah said as she reached down and picked up my bag. “Did you put every single piece of surveillance equipment you own in here? This thing must weigh a hundred pounds.”
Chapter 14
Sarah looked over her shoulder and smiled as I returned to Juneau. “Are you sure we can’t take her for a quick cruise?” she asked from her perch in the captain’s seat.
“I want to take this baby out as much as you do, but we have a fair amount of work to accomplish before dusk.”
“OK. How can I help?”
I handed Sarah a large roll of window tint film and a pair of scissors.
“We need to put a layer of this material on every window facing our watch area. This stuff will make it impossible for anyone across the water to see what we’re up to in here.”
“Aye aye, Captain Carter,” she said and got busy with the task.
Meanwhile, I headed below, took every piece of equipment out of my bag, and spread the components out across the boat’s v-berth. I took a moment to stare at all my wonderful toys. I’d heard it said that every venture should reinvest a certain percentage of income back into the business. Guess I was covered in that department. I wasn’t sure how much money I’d spent on surveillance equipment, but it was a lot.
This case was shaping up to be one in which I might see a return on investment. We were several football fields away from the activities we needed to watch---too far to see any detail with the naked eye. My latest gadget, a gyro-based video camera with telescopic lens, could capture facial features from a mile and a half away while compensating for any movement during recording.
My plan was to monitor activity through a pair of high powered binoculars and periodically adjust the camera toward any activity we wished to record. Sarah would keep watch, armed with a second pair of binoculars, and split her time between scanning the horizon and monitoring our immediate surroundings for intruders.
We couldn’t afford to have anyone watching us while we were busy watching others.
I got to work, plugging cords into the proper connections, charging batteries, checking backup power sources, and getting myself mentally prepared for the long haul.
“Can you come take a look at the first window, please?” Sarah called out. “I don’t want to keep going if you’re not happy with how this one looks.”
I climbed the steps just in time to catch an unfamiliar face coming down the dock, less than fifty feet from the boat and closing. “Better get yourself out of sight,” I said to Sarah. “Looks like we’ve got company.”
Sarah spun and scooted below deck.
I stashed the roll of window film under a seat cushion, took a deep breath, and stepped outside onto the aft deck, doing my best to pretend I hadn’t noticed the oncoming stranger.
“Excuse me,” the man called out, his tone neither friendly nor confrontational.
I looked up and noticed a jarring detail I hadn’t seen initially: a Doberman pinscher straining against its leash as the pair approached.
“Good morning,” I said with a single nod, trying my best to act casual.
“Sorry,” the man said. “You just missed it.”
I took a quick look around, confused by his cryptic response. He smiled as he observed my reaction. “It’s just a couple clicks past noon.”
“Oh,” I said, letting go a sigh of relief. “I understand what you meant, now. I’ve been trying to get into the habit of wearing a watch. Well, up until yesterday, that is.”
My comment was met with a frown. “So I heard. Bruce, our dock committee president, showed me the watch. He’s a talker … and, just between you and me, kind of a tool.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”
I had no idea who this guy was, but I liked him already. I started to extend my hand, then hesitated.
“Oh, don’t worry about this one,” he said while pointing down at the formidable looking dog. “She may seem tough, but Cleo’s about as docile a creature as you could ever meet.”
I smiled and began petting Cleo’s head, then extended my hand to the man. “Carter Peterson.”
“Name’s Tom,” he said. “Nice to meet you, Carter. My wife and I live up the street. After hearing about your lousy encounter with Bruce, I thought I might come down and see if you needed anything.”
“Oh, well, thank you. That’s very thoughtful, but I think we have everything we need.”
“Sounds good. Well, enjoy your time on the Piscataqua. We’re at 21 Spruce if you change your mind.” He gave a wave and headed back up the dock.
I stood and watched them leave, thankful for the encounter. The unexpected visit made me painfully aware of how vulnerable we were to unwanted company while doing our job---compounded by the fact that this property belonged to them, not us.
The association’s dock was nearly 300 feet long, terminated by the floating T-section that we were tied off to. Residents and guests gained access to the dock by walking or driving across their recreation area, which was nothing more than a 6 acre field with a couple of horseshoe courts and a dozen picnic tables.
I scratched my chin for a few seconds then went back inside, remembering that Sarah was still hiding below deck. “It’s safe, Sarah. You can come up now.”
“What was that all about?” she asked.
“One of the neighbors,” I said while mulling over a solution to our privacy dilemma. “I’ve got to move the boat.”
“What?”
I shook my head, realizing she’d taken my comment out of context. “Not because he said we had to. Everett tied Juneau off in the worst possible position. We have no sightline of the association’s dock, and can’t see the recreation area at all. That guy was almost right on top of us before we even knew he was coming.”
“So … you have a solution?”
“Yep. Just got to untie Juneau, slide her down twenty feet to the far end of the T-section, and we’ll be all set.”
Sarah grabbed me by the biceps and gave me an aggressive shake. “Please don’t do that again. You came close to giving me a coronary. I thought we were done. You know, that we had to leave.”
“Sorry. I’m still working on earning my Master of Communications certificate with Sarah Woods University.”
She shook her head and got back to work. “You do just fine, for the most part. Nothing but a small hiccup.”
I went back outside and looked across the water to the channel markers. We were lucky with our timing. The tide was going out, flowing in the direction I wanted to move the boat. I released the bow line first, then the stern, keeping some back pressure on the rope. I took one step forward, then another, the boat easing along the edge of the dock. Once the bow was even with the very end of the T-section, I secured both lines.
Problem solved.
I went back inside and checked on Sarah’s progress. Satisfied with her work, I got back to my own. I mounted a wide angle video surveillance camera with live feed capabilities against the port-side cabin window, facing the association’s property. This setup would give us the ability to monitor any movement at our backs while focused on the Sandakan Sun.
* * *
I took a moment to let my mind rest, and became aware I’d been smiling over the past few hours. One by one, the tasks we needed to complete were getting crossed off my mental checklist. It was a beautiful New England day---especially for January---the sun shining brightly, casting diamond-like reflections off the icy waters fed by the Atlantic.
There was no doubt I was in my element: gainfully employed, wonderful partner by my side, healthy. I felt fortunate.
I popped my head up into the area where Sarah was working.
“Hey, I was just about to come get you,” she said. “I think I’ve got it covered up here.”
“Bah-doom-pah. Good one,” I responded as I climbed up to see the results of her hard work. “Wow. Looks excellent. Not a single bubble or wrinkle on any one of these windows.”
“Thanks. I was thinking we should leave this stuff on and let Everett see it. If he likes it, maybe he’ll hire me to do the other side.”
I pursed my lips, well aware she was doing her best to keep a straight face. “Let’s not push it.”
Sarah smiled. “What do we have left?
“Down time.”
“Really?”
“Yep. We’re going to need to pay close attention to our surroundings as soon as the sun goes down, so we can alternate between napping and keeping watch. But … we’ve got a few hours until sunset. What do you say we head down for a little fun?”
Sarah pushed past me and went below deck. “In
vitation accepted.”
Chapter 15
My sleep was shattered by a disturbing mix of bird chirps and bad seventies synthesizer grooves as our cell phone alarms went off in unison.
“That time went by way too fast,” Sarah said as she sat up in bed.
I gave her a peck on the cheek. “Go back to sleep. I’ll take first watch. I’ve got to start setting up our equipment, anyway.”
“Okay, handsome,” Sarah replied with a yawn and got back under the covers.
I grabbed my LED headband work light, snugged it against my forehead, and switched it on. The unit emitted a red glow, casting enough light to be able to see what I was doing without ruining my night vision. And, it wouldn’t attract unwanted attention like a regular light might. I’d found out about the device and its usefulness from a pilot friend who wore one regularly while night flying.
I transferred the surveillance equipment from below deck to the upper cabin, then shut the door so my activities wouldn’t disturb Sarah. I was pleased to discover a new moon on the rise, its angle and position giving me just enough light where I could switch off my artificial beam for now. I’d read conflicting reports of what to expect for weather conditions this evening, a storm front skirting our area proving too close for forecasters to call. Clear skies had won.
My early preparation efforts were now paying off. I had the entire setup positioned within fifteen minutes, ready to be switched on when the time came. Each component was armed to capture whatever action the early morning hours would bring.
There was nothing left to do now but watch … and wait.
I cracked the cap on one of the 2 oz. energy drinks I’d packed, downed the caffeine shot, and did my best to get comfortable. We’d agreed to take shifts standing watch until the action started, but I wasn’t one of those guys who could sleep once a stakeout began. So, I found comfort in the fact one of us would get a decent night’s rest.