Dan considered his options and threaded past the thorns and climbed onto the porch again. He reared back and kicked the door in. The padlock stayed locked but the spongy doorframe ripped away. Dense, putrid air assaulted him—animal stink and wood rot and something chemical—and he gagged. He stood on the porch to get his breath back, pulled the hoodie up over his nose, and then went inside.
I have a cabin in the woods. You’d love it here.
Dan heard Axe’s voice and circled the inside. They hadn’t talked to each other much after Axe left home, and even less once Axe got to Alaska, but the cabin rated high enough for Axe to mention early on. He’d sent Dan the coordinates and told him to check it out on satellite, bragging about the view and nearby river and seeing bears and wolves from the back porch. This dingy and squalid place wasn’t what Dan imagined.
Had Axe bought it in this condition but never got the chance to fix it up? Could it have fallen into disrepair in the weeks since Axe’s death? Was that how Axe chose to live? Dan didn’t know. Anything seemed possible here in the wilderness.
He thumbed the phone flashlight on and swept the room but ignored the scurrying noises. Nothing leaped out at him beyond how desolate it was. He walked the entire cabin in a search pattern, bouncing here and there on floorboards, but he didn’t find anything hidden under them. The log walls were solid, and the single line of cabinets were empty and had no false bottoms or compartments he could discern.
Dan opened the back door and closed it again. About ten feet from the cabin, the mountainside dropped away, and between it were only more thick and nasty brambles.
He searched under the porch, found nothing, and then did his best to walk around and check the sides of the cabin. One side was nearly walled off by an ugly plant with shiny red and brown leaves that he decided looked poisonous, and the other held a stone chimney he hadn’t seen from inside. It had come away from the wall and leaned precariously back. The hole it created was boarded up, and the roof was patched with corrugated plastic.
None of the stones wobbled or wanted to dislodge, but the chimney acted like it might want to, so he patted around the base and got nothing but muddy knees and dirty hands.
Dan huffed in frustration and snatched the piece of paper from his pocket.
If you ever get way up here to see your dumb big brother, you’ll need this.
The cryptic words and the key they’d been wrapped around were all he had to go on—that and their conversation about the cabin. Dan was sure the two should go together.
Dan idolized Axe growing up. He was ten years older and always so strong and fast and cool. Axe had a different dad, and neither dad had stuck around. With a disinterested mother, Axe was Dan’s whole life. He taught him to swim and surf and as much about growing into a man as a teenager could. But ten years became a chasm between them when they were ten and twenty years old, and Axe had gone into the Coast Guard. He’d been gone from Dan’s life ever since.
Dan had followed again and joined the Coast Guard the day he graduated high school. But he wanted it for himself as much as to tag along after his brother. He loved the water and swimming, the thrill of a rescue. Building a career and his future on that just made sense. He worked his tail off to earn top marks and rank in everything, and served his first stint in Cali with his sights set on Hawaii.
He gave that up when Axe was presumed dead. Getting stationed in Alaska was easy, as it wasn’t exactly a sought-after position, but that’s where easy ended. Finding more questions than answers only slowed his investigation, but it wouldn’t put him off.
Dan had to know what had happened, and he couldn’t accept that such a strong veteran swimmer as Axe would go down without a trace on a routine mission. Axe hadn’t gotten lost at sea, or it wasn’t that simple. They might have drifted apart over the years, but some things brothers simply knew.
Climbing into the gap between the chimney and the wall was a terrible idea, so of course he shinnied right up there.
More nothing. Not under the slimy plastic roofing, not in the woodpecker holes drilled in dense lines all over the wood siding. He changed his handhold to turn and climb back down and had to lean heavily against the wall. He sensed the fall before it actually happened.
Wood groaned and then splintered, and Dan flailed. He landed on his back, hard, breath knocked out of him and darkness closing in around him. He sucked wind and tried to push away the weight of the wall that pinned him down. But it was too heavy, too tight.
The darkness crept closer and made him weak. He shut his eyes, just for a minute to get his strength again, but he came to again when something else crashed alongside him.
He imagined what would happen if the rock chimney gave way and followed the wall. Then he pictured himself falling through the weakened floor and getting tetanus or a broken leg and lying there to rot with everything else.
Dan caught his breath and managed to loosen one leg from the wall piled on top of him. He drew his knee up, planted his foot on the boards, and heaved. Then he scrabbled backward as quickly as he could. The boards lifted enough for him to get free and crashed back down inches from trapping him again. Bright spots dotted his vision, and he coughed up caustic dust that burned his throat and lungs.
He staggered onto the porch and then got clear of the yard, too dazed to be pissed or upset. He didn’t look at his watch. He just put his head down and ran.
Karl’s battered Jeep was in front of the store, and Karl waited in the driver seat.
Dan had no explanation to give, so he didn’t try to come up with a bad excuse. “Sorry.”
Karl checked his watch. “We’ll just get back in time.”
“I went farther than I meant to, and it took me longer than expected.” Dan spread his hands. “Everyone warned me distances were harder to gauge out here, but I hadn’t realized just how much.”
“Did you fall in the proverbial well?” Karl surveyed Dan with a careful eye and ran a light finger across Dan’s knee.
Dan tingled all over, and he looked down because Karl hadn’t let go. Karl clucked his tongue and leaned forward, close and warm, and when Dan turned his head, their noses brushed. They blinked—too close, too warm—and Karl exhaled and then reached under Dan’s seat.
He could only sit there stupidly as Karl opened the first aid kit and dealt with a cut on Dan’s knee he hadn’t noticed until Karl pointed it out. Karl smoothed a bandage down and gently palmed Dan’s knee, hot but gentle, and then he poked and prodded to check for other injuries.
“Brambles caught me.” Dan’s voice was a thread, and he tried not to wrench his knee from Karl’s hand. It would look weird and would hurt. He told himself that the burn of Karl’s touch was wooziness from running too far and too hard.
The chemical odor was still in his nose, and he pinched it. Dan leaned back against the headrest, turned to bury his face in the hoodie, and dragged in the fresh, spicy scent that lingered in the fabric.
Karl hummed noncommittally and pushed a cold, wet bottle into Dan’s hand. He screwed it open and drank the water down.
“Thanks. And thanks for waiting.”
“Of course.” Karl packed the first aid kit, put it away in the back foot well, and studied Dan a minute more. “Have Gent look you over when we get back. Okay?”
Dan nodded.
Karl cranked the Jeep, reversed, mashed the clutch, and they jerked forward. If Karl was interested in why Dan would run to town and then get lost for what felt like hours, he didn’t show it. He didn’t recriminate or ask about anything. He didn’t even make small talk. Dan was annoyed that he missed it.
If that had been Axe waiting on him, his butt would be tanned and his ears blistered.
Several miles from town, Dan broke the silence. “We should probably trade numbers?”
“Good idea if there were reliable cell coverage out here.” Karl shifted, dug in a pocket, and handed Dan his phone. “Still a good idea. Here.”
“It’s not locked?”
> “Why bother?”
Dan shrugged. “Fair.” He added his number to Karl’s contacts and sent a quick text to himself. True to Karl’s observation, the message failed. He would resend it at the station.
“I got you a sandwich at the post office.” Karl motioned to the white paper bag between the seats and smiled, but he didn’t look over. “The postmaster slaps together a mean club.”
Dan gazed at the empty water bottle and wished he had a bit more to swallow the shame that filled his chest. For some damn reason, the tears that hadn’t come at the disappointing wreck of Axe’s cabin welled up and threatened to spill over. He cracked his window and turned his face into the wind.
A low wail rose in the distance ahead of them. Dan’s pulse sped, and his muscles bunched in anticipation. He looked at Karl, who nodded at him and floored the gas. The Jeep spit gravel and was loose in the curve but held on to the road.
The SAR alarm.
Chapter Three
DAN jumped from the Jeep, and Karl fell into step beside him. He didn’t feel the cuts or bruises or anything but the urgency to perform. They left everything behind and ran into the station. Lang, Scobey, and Gent joined them as they filed into the briefing room. Jameson waited half a second while they got seated.
“Have a ship requesting medical evacuation of one of their crew. He’s got a serious laceration on the left arm—visible bone, and they worry there’s tendon damage as his hand is unresponsive. They’ve apparently got him duct-taped closed and stable, but it’s more than they can fix on board. And they’re nowhere near their turnaround.” Jameson pulled one of the many maps down over the front whiteboard and poked at a nowhere spot in the ocean.
“Turnaround?” Dan whispered to Lang.
“Our slang for saying they haven’t been out long enough to get in all their fishing pots or whatever, and they’re unwilling to come back in if they don’t have to.” Lang shrugged. “Pretty typical up here, but nothing bad in it—just crews making a living.”
Dan made a note. “Got it. Thanks.”
“We have low crosswinds, and the squall forecasted to be in our area has stalled far west of the ship’s position. Should be a straightforward grab and go. Once the patient is secured, we’ll deliver him directly to the hospital.” Jameson rolled the printouts and whapped them against his palm. “All right. Let’s get to it.”
Dan grinned—he couldn’t help it—and matched everyone’s controlled but quick exit from the room.
Jameson halted him with the roll of paper stuck in his path. “Good luck out there. Make it a good first. Okay?”
Dan nodded. “I certainly will.” He ran to his locker, got changed, stashed the note and key, and dashed out into the rain to the chopper.
Karl had somehow beaten him there, checklist in hand. Dan got in, settled on the bench, and went over his own necessary checks before takeoff. In minutes Lang and Scobey had the chopper whirring, and he watched the world drop away as the nose turned toward the ocean. Adrenaline surged, and Dan’s nerves buzzed enough to make him fidget with anticipation, but he wasn’t distracted or afraid. If anything, he was impatient, ready to go.
He tracked their progress over the water against the chart he brought on board. It looked like he was being a good newbie and learning on the job, but he wasn’t paying attention to their end destination. Instead he followed the arced line of travel the helicopter had taken the day Axe disappeared. When they split from that trajectory, he stared hard into the distance where the ocean got darker and deeper and then stared back to find land. They were so far out that it wasn’t visible.
Dan added that to his mental list and then folded and stowed the chart. Time to pay attention to the task at hand. He breathed steadily and went over his steps and the order of operation. He imagined the rescue again and again, visualizing it all so his actions could click into automatic when they got there.
Karl looked at him askance, and he could read the question in his dark eyes. He gave a thumbs-up, but Karl continued to watch him with both eyebrows arched in question, and Dan couldn’t keep from smiling in readiness. He shook his head, but Karl nodded, seemingly satisfied, and went back to work. Dan’s smile didn’t quite fade, and he ignored the warm rush in his chest from Karl’s reassurance.
Some thirty minutes out, Lang announced they were nearing the rescue site. He barely registered the ongoing prattle of their arrival, coordinates, state of weather conditions, and the ship below. Karl waved him to the winch, and he duck-walked over. His movements were automatic and expert as he clipped his harness to the line and pitched himself out. Then he was over the lip of the deck and going down.
Wind from the rotors buffeted and lashed him with spray, but Dan hardly noticed. He focused on the target below as Karl worked to help guide him there. As he neared the ship, he steered with his hands and legs. The fishing boat bobbed bow to stern in huge, undulating waves, and he had a wary eye on the midship bridge that rose above everything and the equipment arms at starboard that poked jagged fingers toward the sky.
“Easy.” Karl’s voice on the comm sounded confident and controlled. “Thread the needle, and we’ll hang a minute, make sure we’re square, and then let you down.”
“Copy.” Dan folded his arms in, and the line swayed and worked him around the equipment. He watched without fear as he swung toward the raised bridge. He could tell by feel that the swing wasn’t enough to knock him into it. When Dan’s momentum slowed to as still as he’d get, he raised a hand to signal.
“This feels good.”
“Good?” Karl double-checked.
“Copy. I’d say I’m stable and good to go down.”
“Watch your feet by the big open bay there in the middle of the deck. And the pile of buoys behind you. Chop from the blades is giving them a bit of a ride.”
“Copy. Thanks.” Dan didn’t question or resent the information. Karl was up in the chopper controlling the rescue for a reason.
He made contact with the ship’s deck, loosened his knees, and bobbed to match the movements of the boat. When he steadied he unclipped the line. Then he called it, held the clip until it cleared overhead, and then gave his full attention to the ship.
“Hello. Who’s the captain?”
A craggy-faced man broke from the group. “That’d be me. This way.” He didn’t waste time or breath, and Dan followed him below deck.
The patient was propped on the galley table, his injured arm tucked on a shelf above it, wrapped in bloody towels. He was alert and responsive and muttered more about the pay he’d miss and the crap the boys had already given him than the pain. His face didn’t have good color, but he wasn’t green or shocky white.
“Hi there. I’m Dan. My team and I are ready to get you out of here.” He should give his name and rank, but it always seemed dickish to him. “I’m going to have a look at you, and then we’ll get you on board my ride and on your way to get that arm patched up. Sound good?”
“No.” The man’s watery blue eyes wouldn’t quite focus on Dan, and he slurred his words. “Rather stay, but capt’n said no dice. Can’t use this hand anyway, so guess that’s about right. Call me Jeb.”
“Great. Thanks Jeb.” Dan smiled and hopped onto the table to sit next to him.
He went through a battery of questions and subtly checked Jeb’s vitals as he went. Jeb wasn’t quick on the uptake, but nothing was wrong enough to alarm Dan.
“Time to haul you up top. Here.” Dan stood, pushed his hip into the side of the table, and wrapped an arm around Jeb. “Give me your weight and take your time.”
Jeb scoffed at the idea—he was bigger around than a barrel—but Dan stood firm. After attempting to slide off under his own steam Jeb huffed a low curse and did as Dan directed.
Dan had to angle them through the narrow doors and passages, and he let go of Jeb and half pushed, half supported him from behind to get them upstairs. He let Karl know they were almost ready for pickup, and apprised Gent of the initial wellness ch
eck.
He glanced around for a good spot to leave Jeb, sat him on a nearby spool of something that looked solid, and then he gave the signal for the basket.
Karl had it at the ready, and it dropped from the helicopter and onto the deck with precision. Dan snagged a corner before it could skitter around, and with help from one of the crew, lifted Jeb into it. He tucked the injured arm in against Jeb’s chest.
“You keep your arm in like that as you go up. There’s no way you can fall out of this basket, so don’t worry about hanging on. They’ll help you get out once you’ve reached the helicopter. Just sit tight and let them. We don’t want you opening that back up or doing more damage after we did all this work to rescue you.” He grinned and winked, and Jeb managed a tight smile.
“Patient’s in the basket. Basket is ready to fly.” Dan patted Jeb’s shoulder. “You’re going to be fine. The trip will go faster than you think. She’s solid, so you just lie back and stay calm. Okay?”
He could tell Jeb was scared shitless at the prospect of floating in a wire basket above the open ocean, which might be the wise way to regard it, as opposed to Dan’s no-holds-barred love for every moment. But there was nothing to be done about that.
Dan guided the basket as it lifted and steadied it until he could no longer reach. “For reference, Jeb looks like this is the absolute last thing he wants to be doing, so watch for him to be a bit nervous at the top.”
“Copy that,” Karl acknowledged.
Dan leaned back and watched. Shielding his face with a hand, he nodded at Karl’s outstretched thumbs-up. He looked over when the captain approached.
“This came up in one of our pots. Found it yesterday. We were holding on to it, thinking to turn it in once we got back ashore. But with you here, seems best I turn it in. Don’t know if it’s onna yers or what, but you’ll know.” The captain held a small bundle out to Dan. “Prolly hasn’t been under too long. Color on it’s still good, and no critters living in it yet.”
Dan took it and blinked in surprise at its heavy weight.
Staggered Cove Station Page 3