Page 87 of Untamed Coast

Anya dropped the bedding in a pile and walked toward the small shelving unit where her belongings were stacked, putting them into a paper grocery bag. “You say Thomas confessed? Is he here in custody?”

Sam wanted to be very careful what he said. Anya knowing too much could blow back on him, and the last thing he needed was to be involved in some scandal his last year before retirement. At the same time, he didn’t want to let Anya walk into danger. “He’s still at large. Cocky son of a bitch called me at home last night to confess, and to tell me we’d never catch him. Suspect he’s long gone by now.”

Anya dropped the last of her belongings into the sack and turned back toward Sam, deep creases in her forehead. “He’s still out there? He did say he’d kill me, remember? Did he happen to mention why he killed my lawyer? Chilton had that wild theory that my husband inherited a pile of cash.”

The wrapped cookie was still warm in Sam’s hand, and she didn’t seem the least bit interested in taking it. Nothing felt like the right thing to say. More sweat was forming on his forehead, and he wiped it with his sleeve. He loosened his tie even more. “I think it may have been somethin like that.”

A raven lit on the windowsill behind Anya.

A knot was forming in Sam’s stomach. “Seems that there is a bunch of missing gold from a mine—from back in the day. Maybe he thought you or Chilton had stumbled upon it? Sounded like he thought a fortune was buried on your little island.”

The raven cawed loudly.

“Guess we’ll never know for sure.” Sam shrugged his shoulders, just for show. “I mean, we’ll still do all we can to catch him, but he’s left the state, maybe the country. The island and fishing cabin is still yours. He’ll never be able to file the paperwork.” He slipped a Wrigley’s Spearmint out of his shirt pocket. “Would you like a stick of gum?”

“Thanks for nothin, Chief.” Anya picked up the paper bag and walked out the door.

Chapter 68

.-. . ... --- .-.. ...- .

Peril Strait, AK

2017—Marconi Franco

Marco adjusted the engine RPMs up a click. He was fighting some current in Peril Strait and wanted to beat on into Baby Bear Bay in time to drop some crab traps. U2 was playing “Beautiful Day” on the FM.

Indeed.

He turned on the SSB. The familiar static hiss returned. It was not comforting this time. A lump formed in his throat as he thought about the poor woman drifting in the cold water with no hope of rescue. Was the radio call he’d heard such a stretch? What were the real chances it didn’t connect to Crystal at all?

He turned the SSB back off.

A humpback spout appeared directly ahead and Marco throttled back. Two more spouts. One whale was full grown, and a much smaller one was alongside—mother and calf. The third one dove, its fluke extending above the surface, then slapping the water before sliding into the deep.

He put the boat in idle and walked to the pilothouse door, snapping a couple of photos. The remaining two whales were floating lazily at the surface. One had several parallel scars running diagonally across its back.

Sorry, girl. Looks like you tangled with a boat prop.

Marco spotted whales almost daily and was always careful to throttle back when he passed near them. He’d seen numerous animals with injuries from boats.

When he was safely past, he throttled back up again and eased into his helm chair. Radio Flyer settled into her cruising groove.

As the boat sped up, a horizontal line appeared at the top of Marco’s chartplotter and began to make its way down toward the icon that represented his boat on the moving map. The part above the line showed only the most basic map detail—where there was water and where there was land, as if drawn by a third-grader. The map below the line was the usual richly detailed marine chart showing water depths, rocks, buoys, and markers. Marco pulled the throttle back to slow Radio Flyer down.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

He zoomed his other chartplotter out to a much wider view and could immediately see the problem. His chartplotter system was missing map data for a large square area extending south from where he was down to a point a few miles beyond Sitka. He was always careful when installing a map update to get all of the “tiles” of data for the areas where he planned to cruise. Without that detailed data, the display would show only a basemap, with minimal detail. Not nearly enough to safely navigate.

This bastard never ceases to amaze.

Considerable knowledge would have been required to perform this chartplotter sabotage, and it was very clearly targeted at the large area around Radioville.

Without the internet, he’d have to travel at least a day back the way he had come to be able to redownload the missing files. It wasn’t safe to continue without accurate charts. Chances were high he’d hit a rock or run aground.

Marco pulled the boat out of the main channel and put it in neutral. He could drift here for a bit while he figured out a plan. The current would just move him slowly backward. He pulled out his iPad and brought up the Navionics app he used for route planning. It had detailed chart data, and the iPad had a built-in GPS. In seconds he had it working as a decent chartplotter with the same level of detail that the expensive setup gave. He never really thought he’d have to fall back on the iPad for real navigation, but it was great to have a reliable backup.

More than one way to skin a cat.