Staggered Cove Station
Page 5
Karl watched the small bubbles in his coffee cling and float against the edge of the mug. A not-quite premonition danced in his brain like those bubbles, and he swirled the mug and broke the last of them in a tiny wave.
Axe was from California.
When he glanced up, Dan was staring at him, so he stared back. Dan nodded and half smiled. Then he went back to studying the monitors and pulldown charts that hung from a different wall.
There was that lost expression again, and it tugged at his heart. Given everything else he’d seen that day, Karl had a duty to find out why.
Chapter Four
DAN shifted onto his side and peered across the dim room at Karl. In their short time rooming together, he’d learned that Karl smelled good, had neatness down to a science, and was a light sleeper. He once scratched his balls too loudly, and Karl cracked an eye open to check the room before he dozed off again.
He pushed the blankets aside and counted to ten. No difference in Karl’s breathing or body position. Good. Dan continued to move in ten-count increments, sitting up, scooting to the edge of the bunk, getting a leg over, lowering until his foot touched the floor. Then he stood and waited. Whole body movement would attract more attention than a bit of restlessness in bed.
Karl’s breath caught, and Dan tensed with aggravation and bit back a curse. He forcibly relaxed and held still, and after an eternity, Karl sighed and rolled to face the wall.
Dan took the opportunity presented, grabbed his shoes, and crept into the hallway. He squinted, shoved into his shoes, and headed to the mess. His heart hammered against his ribs, and he tried to look no-big-deal as he got a cup of coffee, half milk, and a lot of sugar. Up before dawn, he needed a boost.
Someone grunted, and Dan stiffened. No one else was in the mess, but he turned in place. Still no one. Another grunt, and Dan lifted onto his tiptoes. Trask—swarthy, built like a noodle and nerd-handsome—snored on the sofa. He was the other flight mech Dan hadn’t flown with.
He rolled his eyes at his jumpy pulse and flop sweat, heard spy movie theme songs in his head, and told himself to calm down. Trask didn’t stir, and Dan glided through the lobby unimpeded. The front desk wasn’t manned at that hour, although Ramirez circled the comm to keep an eye on things.
Dan ducked into the adjoining hallway, past Curtis’s office, to a weirdly angled dogleg where the corridor terminated at the file room. It wasn’t locked, and no one was around as he slipped inside and sagged against the door, shaky with relief.
A steely action hero or ready for a life of crime he wasn’t.
Dan toyed with the idea of using a flashlight but decided to just turn on the lights. If someone caught him, it would seem way less suspicious to be in there, doing… well, something—he’d figure out what to say—rather than poking in file cabinets with a mini Mag held in his teeth.
It didn’t take long to work out the organization system, and he pulled the appropriately dated box from a shelf and set it on the side table. He sipped the coffee and stared at it, anxious to read the report but dreading having to go over all the details. Dan closed his eyes and checked a last time—listened hard and waited, just in case—but the buzz of the fluorescents overhead was the only thing stirring.
He flipped the lid back, sat, and read the report of Axe’s disappearance—once quickly and then a second pass to go over everything more thoroughly and tap a few notes into his phone.
Karl’s debrief stuck out at him. He could imagine Karl, baffled and angry, saying the words and ending with the same conclusion as everyone else—uncertainty about what happened and how Axe disappeared without a trace.
The last I saw, he gave the thumbs-up and confirmed via radio. Conditions weren’t great with rain and wind, but it wasn’t heavy. He was wearing his dry suit, secured to a large, viable piece of wreckage, and in water at above-survivable temperatures.
Dan agreed that those were pretty good circumstances to be left in until backup arrived. But he knew how quickly things could go sideways, especially in the water. In the minutes Axe floated alone with the wreckage, the unforgiving ocean could have swallowed him whole, without a trace and without remorse.
But Axe was a strong swimmer, stronger than the ocean on much worse days. And there was a trace of him—that damn radio beacon. Dan’s head snapped up, and he scrambled to find the radio beacon records. He wound up kneeling in front of an ancient wooden file cabinet, flipping through cards attached at a center pin in the drawer until he got to Axe’s. He’d taken a picture of the beacon info and personal code. The numbers matched.
Dan didn’t know what to make of it all. He had clues but no clue—puzzle pieces and no picture for reference. Disbelief and righteous anger brought him there, but they faded as he worked with and watched Karl and the others. Pure luck had brought him the beacon, and nothing came of his visit to the cabin. It was an old meth-lab cabin, apparently, and that knowledge still sat sourly in his guts. Axe never showed an inclination to drugs growing up and even tanned Dan’s hide when he admitted to taking a puff of weed when he was twelve.
That beacon came from Axe’s dry suit. It was cut off, weighted, and thrown into the ocean by someone. Forcibly? Had Axe done it himself? Axe couldn’t have both drowned and disappeared leaving traces like that. The new mystery was why Axe went missing and who wanted him gone.
Dan righted the cards, closed the drawer, and sat down to stare unseeing at the file box. His hands were cold, and wrapping them both around the coffee mug did nothing to warm them. He stared numbly and listened to the lights buzz as a sliver of dawn turned the small window opposite him from a dark rectangle to a gray rectangle. He almost preferred the idea that Axe died in a freak, even negligent, accident. The consequences of what he discovered might be a lot tougher to grapple with.
The noise of the station getting more active shook his stupor. He put the files back in the box, stowed it, and got to the lobby without anyone taking notice.
Dan left his coffee in the mess and went outside. The cold, whipping wind didn’t stop his racing thoughts, but it felt good to suck down fresh air.
His minor subterfuge to read the report hadn’t been a complete bust. He’d learned a fishing boat had signaled from near the wreckage and asked if the Guard needed an assist. Jameson had radioed back none was required, and Dan agreed it was the best Jameson could do with the known conditions. The fishing boat, however well meaning, could get in the way, break up the debris field Axe clung to, or hinder the rescue process once SAR arrived. Since arrival was imminent, it was the right call to discourage direct action.
They’d questioned the captain after the incident. He hadn’t gotten close enough for a sure visual on Axe, although he stayed close until the chopper appeared. After that the Fairweather Friend signaled her departure and headed into the cove toward land. The name of the ship was like some bad cosmic joke.
Dan was stuck. With all that to go on, he needed more to go on. He weighed back-and-forth indecision and then sent a text.
Need a favor.
Light, misting rain coated his face, and he cupped a hand over his phone and watched as his message went from Sending to Delivered to Read. Moments later three dots appeared and were soon replaced with a reply.
Better be an emergency or smth really good at this hour
Dan smiled and pictured Ridge scowling at the phone.
He shot back, Stuff it. Know you’re awake w overnight duty
Ok, fine. What ahole?
Dan snorted and tapped out his answer. Ridge was a charmer in person, smart as a whip and a goddamn smart aleck, and more attractive than good-looking. He was the first guy Dan admitted he had a crush on—the first guy to make him crush on a guy—whatever, it’d started with Ridge. The crush had ended in nothing because Dan never shared it. He liked Ridge, liked being buds and enduring basic together, but in the end, knew he didn’t want more than that.
He hadn’t crushed on another guy since. He was picky and devoted to the Guard.
Ridge replied, Just want to be sure you’re sure.
I am. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t. Dan let his tears run when the enormity of what he faced finally hit him. They mixed with the rain, but they offered some relief to his tight chest and storm of emotions.
I’ll find out. Don’t worry. Won’t ask why you’re asking but if you need to talk I’m here. Take a few days.
Dan nodded and wiped his nose with his sleeve. Tks brother. Means a lot to me. Will explain when I can… when I know.
You safe? Someone there got your back? They better
Yeah. I’m good. It was true, he realized. Dan had Karl for that.
Well, stay safe and talk soon. Ridge finished with a heart, a laptop, and thumbs-up emojis.
Dan sent a flipped bird. He pocketed his phone and stood to watch the sunrise through the bank of clouds that shrouded the cove.
“You’re not thinking of running to town again, are you?” Karl’s voice cracked the silence.
Dan startled around and Karl raised both hands in apology.
“Are you?”
He stared until Karl huffed and hauled him inside.
“Go get something dry on, and I’ll take you. Okay?” Karl squeezed Dan’s shoulder, and ran his thumb up along Dan’s neck. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Dan scrubbed his wet face and offered a brittle smile. He stood there until Karl gave him a shove and headed to their room.
Dan had asked Ridge to do a deep dive into Axe’s personal stuff—finances, any trouble on the radar, whatever came up. Ridge would find it—and keep the findings between them—but Dan would have to live with the results.
The radio beacon seemed least likely to help with anything. Whoever dumped it was at the center of it all, so that was his target. He didn’t want to go to town, and he didn’t want to like the idea of another quiet trip there and back with Karl. Dan sighed, grabbed whatever came to hand, and changed into dry cargos and layers on top. At least in town, he could see about finding a manifest on the Fairweather, and he had that key Axe had mailed him.
Dan sat on the bed so he could get the key from where he’d taped it to the underside of his middle desk drawer. He held it in his palm as though willing it to tell him what it unlocked and examined the fob etched with what looked like a logo.
“What’s eating you?”
Dan knocked his head on the upper bunk as he stood. He grunted and fell back onto his chair.
“Oh, man. Shit, that hurt.” Karl sucked in a breath and laughed in sympathy as he entered their room. He walked over and picked up the key Dan dropped.
Dan muttered pained noises, but he didn’t grab at the key as it dangled from Karl’s hand. He could hardly play it like no big deal if he made a deal out of it. His escapade in town and the way he barely hid his reaction when he heard about the cabin was bad enough.
“Hmm, let’s see.” Karl tipped Dan’s head forward and thumbed through his hair, this way and that.
Dan suppressed a shiver—must be reaction setting in—but almost came flying off the chair and out of his skin when Karl’s knee brushed against his inner thigh and stayed pressed there as Karl slowed his thumb to soothing, massage-deep circles. His whole body tingled, and his limbs heated.
Karl leaned down, and Dan looked up. Their foreheads nearly collided, and Karl’s breath skated across Dan’s cheek. He watched Karl’s pupils get small and tight and then widen to almost obscure the hazy browns and greens he’d cataloged in the chopper.
“I think you’ll live. Don’t even feel a knot forming.” Karl quirked a half smile and continued to run his thumb and fingers through Dan’s short hair, almost as though he weren’t aware of doing it. “Lucky you’re hardheaded.”
“Come by it honest.” Dan blinked against the drowsy sensation coiling behind his eyes and in his core.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, my b—whole family’s stubborn.”
Karl’s gaze went from Dan’s lips and eyes down to where their legs were slotted together and then up to his thumb where it rested on Dan’s temple. He made a low noise, straightened, and studied the key in his hand. He furrowed his eyebrows as he turned it a few times, but he gave it to Dan without a word.
Dan took it with a distracted nod, glad that his hot-cold response to Karl’s touch obliterated all the pain from cracking his head. And he worried that such a simple gesture made him all confused.
“I wasn’t meaning to call you that, but if you’re gonna claim it, I won’t argue.” Karl went to the door and motioned into the hall.
“Right, right.” Dan tossed the key on his desk and made a show of standing with care to avoid the bunk. Usually he’d put the key back to keep it secure, but he had to be casual. He waved his hands in an after-you gesture and followed Karl into the hall. “And to answer, nothing.”
“Nothing what?”
“Eating me—you asked what’s eating me, and I’m saying nothing.”
Karl stopped in the lobby and frowned. “I asked what’s keeping you, but okay.” He surveyed Dan’s whole person, something he’d done with varying degrees of intent since Dan showed up, but he didn’t press for more.
To avoid further conversation, Dan hurried through the inner door that Karl held open and held the outer door for Karl.
“I want to detour to the hangar.”
Dan nodded. “Sure.” The wind sheared in from the ocean, and he zipped his hoodie and jacket.
Karl didn’t go far into the shop. He banged a hand on the metal wall, and the reverberations carried over the music, the noise of tools, and the general conversation.
“Yaz!” Karl lifted his chin.
The group huddled around a pulled-apart engine broke apart, and Yaz trotted over to them. He wiped oil on his coveralls and made an expectant face.
“Decided I want you to find out—about the boat.”
“Yeah, can do.” Yaz’s lips thinned, but he didn’t ask for Karl’s reasons. “Anything else?”
“Need something from town?”
“Nope, but thanks.” Yaz spun around and started back for the engine. “I’ll catch up with you tonight,” he called back.
Karl ushered Dan back outside. Buffeted by wind and seawater and growing rain, they headed for Karl’s Jeep. Dan put his wool cap on and scowled at Karl, who was in a sweatshirt and uniform pants and was apparently impervious to the cold.
“I’m just used to it.” Karl’s lips twitched, but he didn’t quite smile. “You’ll get there too if you stick around long enough.”
Dan grumped and wished he had some mittens. Once in the Jeep and on the road, curiosity and want of conversation got the better of him.
“Are you buying a boat?”
“No. There’s one that might still be kicking around that I want to find out about.” Karl’s knuckles went white on the steering wheel, but his expression didn’t change. “Something recently reminded me about it.”
“Oh, okay. I see.” Dan didn’t at all. He waited for Karl to offer more, and when he didn’t, the silence lasted too long for him to interrupt with more questions. He fanned his hands over the weak flow of warm air that came through the vents. “It wasn’t this cold yesterday. Does it always change this drastically so quick?”
“Not always, but generally yes.” Karl shook his head. “I don’t mean that as a nonanswer, but there’s no better way to put it. It’s also part of why we’re out here.”
Dan turned to Karl and couldn’t help the low prompting noise he made.
“Alaska’s gorgeous, rugged, enormous, full of natural wonders. She’s also full of treachery that’s hard enough to navigate and survive in perfect conditions. Add in weather and an ocean that’ll turn on a dime, and it keeps people in our line of work plenty busy.”
“That makes sense.” Dan balled his not-really-warmed hands into fists and jammed them in his armpits.
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�People get lost here without ever going missing.” Karl had tight hold of the gearshift and negotiated a series of climbing curves. “That happens too. There’s a lot of ways you can get eaten alive here.”
“How so?”
Karl shrugged, but his long sigh wasn’t dismissive. “The usual—drink, drugs, whatever easily obtained vice. But the need for that usually stems from the bigger things that afflict some who wander up here. Fill the void—the distance from everything else, the boredom, isolation to the point of near madness, the unrelenting weather, how disturbing so little sunlight can be for some.” He flashed a sudden grin. “Not to get all grim and scare you off. Other people thrive and love it and can’t think of living anywhere else once they get some Alaska in their blood.”
Their eyes met, and Dan grinned because of Karl’s grin. He stupidly thought he could imagine—and like—getting some Alaska in his blood. Dan licked his lips, twitched awkwardly, and turned to look out the window.
He watched the becoming-familiar landscape zoom past as the Jeep rattled them along the poorly graded road. After they passed the welcome sign, he asked, “Can you drop me off at the library?”
Karl barked a short laugh and pulled in to park parallel to EiderUp. He cranked the emergency brake and killed the engine. “Yeah. Here we are.”
Dan blinked at the building, its peeling green-painted awning, white clapboard sides, and its sagging porch and said a low, involuntary “Oh.”
“E- and audiobooks, and a few paperbacks on a rack in the back. C’mon, I’ll show you.” Karl undid his seat belt, swiveled, and was walking to the store in one long, graceful maneuver.
E-books and paperbacks were useless to Dan’s research needs, but he still went inside. He didn’t want to use the station’s internet connection to look for the Fairweather’s manifest, but it seemed he’d have to. In the meantime he put on a game smile and went in through the squeaky door that Karl held wide.
The store was bigger and cleaner than it looked from outside, and it stretched back and back to a far wall he couldn’t see. It was also stuffed full, with narrow aisles and floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed with all manner of goods, from food to fishing tackle to china figurines to toiletries. The post office part was one end of a zig-zagging counter that had its front corner painted dark blue and an official sign hanging from chains suspended over it.