by Al Boudreau
I made my last few steps to the head of the dock, breaking into a sprint as soon as my foot hit the field. A quick look over my shoulder told me I’d made solid choices so far. No one in sight, and no way of being seen.
I turned back toward the entrance to the common area I made a welcome discovery: my car idling in the middle of the road with Sarah in the passenger seat, waving me in.
Chapter 18
“What happened back there? Could they see us?” Sarah asked as I put the car in gear and sped away.
“Yep. Jason Taylor had a thermal imaging scope trained on the boat,” I replied as I struggled to take my jersey off.
“Carter, what are you doing?” Sarah asked as I pulled over and put the car in park.
“Changing my shirt and going back.”
“What? Why? You can’t go back there now,” Sarah insisted.
I got out of the car, opened the back door, and got a different color jersey out of my bag. “Pick a safe place. Maybe Jackie’s apartment. Drop off every piece of this electronic equipment. Then go to the Hometown Diner. I’ll meet you there.” I closed the door before Sarah could protest, no time to argue or explain.
I began jogging the quarter mile back toward Juneau, knowing full well I didn’t have much time to put together a plan. I had it in my head I’d admit to being the one they’d seen on the boat, but changed my shirt just in case I sensed the need for plausible deniability.
Always good to have options when making decisions off the cuff.
I didn’t know how well this encounter was going to go, but I was sure of one thing: I’d never be able to live with myself if I allowed Homeland to take possession of Everett Shapleigh’s boat.
I slowed to a brisk walk and pulled out my phone as an idea popped into my head. A quick search revealed dozens of examples of the photos I’d need in order to pull this off. I replaced my screen saver with one of the shots and downloaded about two dozen more to a separate file.
Satisfied, I broke into a sprint---and managed to cover the entire length of the association’s recreation area in less time than I thought my tired frame was capable of.
I slowed as I reached the dock in order to eliminate any opportunity for Jason Taylor and his crewmate to assess me as an oncoming threat. I was there to save Everett’s boat, not to get shot. The walk down the dock seemed to take forever once I had a sightline of the men milling around inside Juneau, their formidable looking craft docked close behind.
Taylor’s crewmate saw me first and hustled out to the aft deck. “This boat belong to you?”
“For today,” I replied. “Technically, it’s owned by a friend of mine.”
“Was that you on board five minutes ago?” the man asked, his shiny badge indicating his last name was Borden.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Jason Taylor making his way out to the aft deck. Neither of the men seemed overly pissed off, so I rolled the dice. “Yep. That’s right.”
“This the guy?” Taylor asked as he stood by his crewmate’s side.
Borden nodded. “Said he was just down here, and that the craft belongs to a friend.”
Taylor climbed up onto the dock. “Let’s see some identification.”
I pulled my wallet out and handed him my driver’s license.
Taylor called in my particulars on his radio then asked, “Why did you fail to respond to our commands, Mr. Peterson?”
I put on my best look of confusion. “Not sure I understand.”
“I told you to stop as you were heading away from this dock. My bullhorn is the most powerful unit made, so don’t tell me you couldn’t hear me.”
“Sorry about that. I remember hearing something, but had no idea it was for me. Wind was blowing at a pretty good clip when I left, and my hearing isn’t so good. Spent too many years on the range without ear protection.”
Taylor opened his mouth to respond when his radio started making noise about me. He grabbed the mic and confirmed receiving the call, then handed my license back to me. “Mr. Peterson. Jump down onto the deck of the boat and have a seat. We’re going to be here for a bit.”
I obliged.
“Borden,” Taylor said. “Control came back with a C3 on Peterson, here. Give them a call on the sat phone and see what they’ve got on him.”
Taylor waited for Borden to head back to their craft then continued. “What’s this boat owner friend’s name, and what were you doing down here on his boat, Mr. Peterson?”
“His name is Everett Shapleigh. I borrowed Juneau for a little overnight retreat with my girl,” I responded.
“Your girl? What’s her name, and where is she now?”
“Her name is Sarah. Sarah Woods. She just headed out to get coffee.”
“What’s with the one-sided tint job on the windows?” Taylor asked while pointing at the boat. “Starboard side’s tinted. Port side isn’t. Why?”
“The window film?”
“Yeah, with the little circle cut out,” Taylor added. “My guess is you and your girl Sarah were taking some videos out here. Am I right?”
“Photographs, actually.”
“Of what,” Taylor asked as he shook his head and furrowed his brow.
I pulled out my phone and handed it to him.
“Canadian geese?”
I nodded. “Great place to spot them. That’s why we chose to dock here.”
“Yes, I’m aware there are geese in the area,” Taylor said as he handed back my phone.
I glanced over Taylor’s shoulder and noticed Borden climbing back up onto the dock, his eyes locked on mine as he walked up behind his crewmate. Borden’s gaze was odd … I had no idea what to make of it. “Peterson’s all set,” he said as he stopped and stood next to Taylor. “We can cut him loose.”
Taylor pursed his lips and shook his head. “Look, I don’t know what you and Ms. Woods are up to, but Homeland has a watch list. The fact we had to call in after giving control your information can only mean one thing, Mr. Peterson: your name appears on that list. My advice to you is the following: watch your step.”
The pair began walking back toward their craft when Taylor stopped and turned toward me. “Get your friend’s boat out of here. And don’t let me catch you loitering around this area again.”
* * *
I could see Sarah waiting for me inside the Hometown Diner as the cab I was riding in pulled up in front. I paid the driver then headed inside.
“Thank goodness,” Sarah said as I slid across the bench seat of our usual booth. “I had visions of having to bail you out of jail.”
“No faith in my abilities, huh? Even after all this time?”
Sarah ignored my jab. “Was Jason Taylor there when you got back to the boat?”
“Oh yeah.”
“And?”
“They asked what we were doing … and I told them.”
“You didn’t,” Sarah said, eyes wide, her jaw left hanging.
“Sure did,” I said as I handed Sarah my phone, new screen saver all aglow.
“What’s this?”
“Geese.”
She just stared.
“I told them the geese were the reason we were on Everett’s boat.”
“And they bought it?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
Sarah continued to stare. “Carter, you cannot mess with these people. They had to know what we were really up to.”
I shrugged. “Of course they did. But, here’s the thing. They didn’t find anything on the boat, and we got what we needed. Bottom line? It’s all good.”
“Yeah, it’s all good until we get arrested for being enemies of the state. Or, until Jason Taylor puts two and two together and tells his father we were out there. You know what’s going to happen then? Carol’s going to hear about it. Once she does, she’s not going to be too psyched with us.”
“Don’t get mad at me for saying this, but you’re overreacting. Just a little.”
“Unbelievable. Department of Ho
meland Security, Carter. You need to take this seriously.”
“There’s no easy, fool-proof way to go about conducting a case like this. We told Carol it was going to be difficult. We told her our investigation might yield nothing. She said she was willing to pay. She knows the deck is stacked against us, but she also knows we’re good at what we do. Bottom line is this: Homeland, or no Homeland, there’s definitely something going on, and I have every intention of figuring out exactly what it is.”
Chapter 19
“Carter. Carter, wake up.”
I tried to make sense of Sarah’s voice being out of context in my dream until a couple good shoves forced me to open my eyes.
“There’s some guy at our front door,” Sarah said while standing next to our bed in her underwear. “I can’t really tell from up here, but I think it might be Jason Taylor.”
I rolled over and closed my eyes. “Ignore him. He’ll go away.”
The banging intensified.
“Carter, you need to deal with this,” Sarah insisted. “He’s not leaving.”
I let go a sigh and flung the covers off. A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand told me it was 5 pm. We’d left the diner this morning at 9 to remove the window tint film from Everett Shapleigh’s boat, then returned home and jumped straight into bed. Unfortunately, we’d slept several hours longer than intended. My body was royally screwed up from the odd hours we’d kept over the past couple days.
The last thing I wanted to do right now was to get hauled downtown by an overzealous federal employee.
More banging. I threw my clothes on and headed to the window, expecting to see an official Homeland vehicle parked in the driveway. The presence of a small economy car threw me off. “You might want to get dressed,” I said to Sarah. “Not sure how this is going to play out.”
I headed downstairs and grabbed the doorknob just as another round of banging filled my ears. I swung the door wide to find Sarah had been correct: there before me, dressed in street clothes, stood Jason Taylor.
“Mr. Peterson. I was beginning to think you weren’t ever going to answer the door.”
I raised my eyebrows, in no mood for games. “I suppose it never dawned on you that maybe we weren’t home?”
“Oh, I knew you were home,” he said, deadpan expression giving me no clue what his deal was. But his words offered some useful information.
We were being watched.
I stepped back and motioned for him to come inside, the raw outdoor temperature leaving me few options. “Mind me asking what’s so important that you’d show up at my house, unannounced?”
Taylor seemed 100% unaffected by my aggravation. “Mind if I sit?”
“By all means,” I said.
Taylor got comfortable then locked eyes with me. My guess was that he was waiting for me to take a seat. I remained on my feet.
He looked down at the floor then back up at me. “You need to know a little more about my mother.”
His opening line wasn’t at all what I’d expected. I sat.
“What you and your partner were doing out on that boat this morning was risky, Mr. Peterson. We could easily have brought you in. If we had, you’d be in lockup right now, instead of hitting me with this attitude of yours. Honestly, now that I’ve spoken with my mother, I’m glad we didn’t. Now I know you were just trying to help, despite how misguided your efforts have been.”
I remained silent.
“My mother is a wonderful woman … a woman who has suffered with issues for as long as I can remember. She allows herself to get quite worked up over imaginary situations. She’s a worrier. Runs on her side of the family. My grandmother was mentally ill, but never diagnosed. Medicine has come a long way since then. My mom takes pills on a daily basis, and they work amazingly well---95% of the time.”
“Let me stop you right there,” I said. “The particulars of Carol’s medical history are not something I want or need to hear. This information is personal, and should remain private. Carol hired us to look into Frenchie’s death. She was quite lucid at the time---and every time since.”
“I’m well aware she hired you,” Taylor replied. “That’s why I’m here. On my own time. By myself, versus rolling up with a cadre of Homeland’s finest. Neither one of us want that.” He paused for a beat, likely for effect. “Mr. Peterson, my brother’s death was an accident, plain and simple. Now, it’s going to take time for my mother to come to terms with that, but so be it. Our entire family has been, and will be, there for her. We’re going to get through this together. We’re simply trying to protect her from more unnecessary pain.”
“Let’s cut to the chase, here, Jason. What, exactly are you telling me?”
“I’m not here to threaten you, Mr. Peterson. What I need from you is a little understanding. I’m simply trying to keep the peace in my family during a very difficult time. My father has worked hard all of his life, but doesn’t have much to show for it. My mom and dad are a lower middle class couple, trying to survive from one month to the next. I help them out whenever the need arises, but I can’t do as much as I’d like to.”
“I still don’t---”
“What I’m saying is … I’d like you to let this one go. Nothing to see here. My brother is dead. We buried him months ago. A thorough police investigation uncovered nothing out of the ordinary. Just a very unfortunate occurrence. Mr. Peterson, my old man doesn’t know my mother wrote you that sizeable check. I see it as money spent to look into a situation we’ve already dealt with and now wish to put behind us. I have no intention of telling my father she hired you, because I have no desire to watch my parents fight about funds they can’t afford to throw away. Please … give her the money back. Just … just send me a bill for the time you’ve put in, then walk away.”
I had no idea whether or not Jason Taylor was a poker player, but if not, he was missing a golden opportunity. I couldn’t read the guy…
…but two could play the game.
“Mr. Taylor, as I told you before, I have a partner. Now, I’m sure you were already considering that fact, seeing how you’re right on top of this entire situation. That being said, I hope you’ll understand when I tell you I can’t give you a definitive answer until I talk things over with her. However, our conversation has been enlightening, and I want to do the right thing.” I stood up to let him know I was done discussing the matter. “We’ll be in touch.”
“All right,” Taylor said with a nod and stood up. “I appreciate your time and understanding.”
No sooner had I ushered him out the door when I noticed Sarah sitting at the top of the stairs. “I take it you heard everything,” I said.
“I did. He was very convincing,” Sarah replied. “Do you believe him?”
I stood and thought about it for a beat before answering. “I don’t know. Either he was telling the truth, or he’s a darn good liar.”
“Thing is, he could be telling the truth about Carol. I had a friend in high school whose mom was bi-polar. You never would have known it, because her doctors were good. They had her meds dialed in, and she took them like she was supposed to. It’s a tough life to lead, even under the best conditions.”
I nodded. “I have no intention of digging into this woman’s private matters. Besides, it doesn’t explain away the video and the note Carol gave us. She must not have shared that piece of information with Jason, or he wouldn’t have bothered with trying to convince us she was imagining this whole situation.”
“You know, you’re right. Not only that, but here’s another interesting point to ponder. The day we went to Carol’s house and she gave us the video, you mentioned to her that we didn’t know what hit Frenchie. Her reply was, ‘none of us did.’ So, my question is this: after seeing Don and Jason out on the water, involved with the transfer of that crate, what do you think the chances are that the two of them had no idea how Frenchie died?”
“Uh … zero.”
“Exactly. So … what do we do?”
/>
“We keep on going.”
“On whose dime?”
“You heard him. He told us to send him the bill.”
Sarah gave me one of her looks. “Yeah, for time we’ve spent on the case up until now. Not for hours we haven’t put in, yet.”
“Here’s what I’m thinking. We find this Keef Hall character, rattle his cage a bit, and see if anything useful falls out of it. Once we’ve spoken with Hall, we should have another conversation with Carol. Bet we can get a lot accomplished in one more day. We’ll review the bill after that. You know I’m always fair.”
“That’s the problem. I’m not worried you’ll try to screw the guy. I’m worried you won’t charge enough for our time. You’re too good that way.”
“One more day. Then, if we can prove Jason Taylor’s trying to sell us a bill of goods, he can take his plea and stick it.”
Chapter 20
I jumped in the shower to get ready for tonight while Sarah drove over to Jackie’s place to pick up our video equipment. Our plan was to review the footage we’d shot this morning of the Sandakan Sun, then head over to The Ferry Landing. I was keeping my fingers crossed we’d find the never ending Keef Hall party going on there.
I hated to invest time and effort in the act of hanging out with a dope fiend, but if there was one thing my cop years had taught me, it was that you could coax plenty of information out of an individual when they were stoned. And, if Hall’s social media posts were an accurate representation of the guy’s habits, my guess was he spent the bulk of his waking hours under the influence of drugs and alcohol. The good news: we weren’t trying to gather evidence that would be admissible in a court of law. We were simply looking for answers.
I stood there under the hot water, wondering what the best approach would be if we were lucky enough to find Hall at the bar. The information we were hoping to get was very specific---not an easy topic to slip into a casual conversation. If we spooked him, he’d likely clam-up and we’d leave the place empty handed.