A search was begun for Ray Nugent, whom, it turned out, the police had been watching for a long time. Ray had a drug-dealing record that went back to when he was fifteen. He’d already been convicted twice, done jail time, and been paroled. His new tactic had been to use young kids like Jeff and me to actually make the exchange so he could deny any involvement.
We didn’t find out all that right away, though. First the chief said, “Tell me about what happened tonight,” and Donny and I began talking. It was a long time before we stopped.
Finally, the chief said we were finished for the night, but that there were going to be a lot more questions in the next couple of days. It was the district attorney’s job to decide what charges would be brought against whom. That got me pretty nervous. But then the chief took Mom and me aside and said he thought Jeff and I might not get charged at all, because we hadn’t known what was in the envelopes, because we were minors, and because I had come to him to tell what I knew.
I got the impression the chief considered Ray the really bad guy. Donny was kind of in the middle, and Jeff and I were just little fish, which was fine with me. Stupid little fish for sure. But at least we weren’t treated like criminals.
The chief asked Donny a lot of questions about Ray and Cameron Maddox. Apparently, the coroner had said that the wound on Maddox’s head had come from a blow at close range, probably from the butt of a gun. Ray was wanted for suspicion of murder, as well as for drug dealing.
I shuddered every time it hit me that I’d gotten myself involved in something so big and so bad. It had been so easy, too, to take the first little step, and then the next and the next.
News came from the searchers that it looked as though Ray had stolen a boat and headed for the mainland. Chief Widdiss jumped to his feet. He told us we could go home, and started bellowing orders to get the state police and the Coast Guard on the phone right away.
“We’re going to find this guy,” he declared grimly as we left the station.
Donny and Jeff went home with their parents, and Mom, Barry, and I drove to our house in silence. Barry pulled into the driveway and said, “I’m going to leave and give you two a chance to talk this over.”
Mom and I got out, and we both thanked Barry. “I’ll call you in the morning, Kate,” he said. “And, Ben, I’m glad you’re safe.”
Mom and I went inside and sat down at the kitchen table, the place where we’d always had our “big talks.” Even though it was after midnight, I knew we weren’t going to bed just yet. I was way too wired, anyway, and I could tell Mom had a lot more she wanted to say to me.
She poured me a glass of juice and boiled water for tea for herself. She began by saying, “Ben, I hardly know where to start. I find it hard to believe that all this has been going on, and I didn’t know a thing about it.” She shook her head, fighting back tears. Finally she whispered, “Honey, why didn’t you tell me?”
I already felt so awful about everything that had happened, and now I felt worse, seeing Mom cry. I sighed, and opened my mouth to try to explain. But before I could say anything, she went on. “Actually, I think I understand most of it. I can see how you wanted to protect Donny, and how one thing led to another. But what upsets me is that I suspect in some ways you were trying to protect me, along with Donny.”
Her eyes filled up and she wrapped her arms across her chest. “It’s hard for me without your father, Ben, but you have to believe that I’m not going to fall apart at the first sign of trouble. You can count on me. You don’t have to take on everything by yourself. Okay? Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mom,” I said. And I did. We were still learning how to get along without Pop, and we didn’t always get it right.
“Not talking to me about your troubles is bad enough, Ben, but you lied to me. That’s the worst of it. Lying can change everything between people. Do you see that?”
I nodded miserably, because I really did understand it—now. First Ray sucked Donny in; then Donny sucked Jeff and me in. Donny had lied to us more than once. I wasn’t mad at him so much as at myself for believing his lies.
Mom’s face looked tired under the kitchen light. “The most important thing is that you’re alive. But, Ben, you’ve got some real hard thinking to do about why you let yourself get into this situation. I feel as though I’ve failed somehow, failed to teach you right from wrong. And when I think of how close you came—how much worse it could be—I—” Her face crumpled, and she turned away to pour hot water into her cup.
“I know,” I said, swallowing the big lump that had risen in my throat. “Mom? Don’t cry, okay? None of this was your fault. It’s just that—” How could I explain this? I struggled for words that would make clear all the things I’d figured out. Finally I said, “You know how there’s a little voice inside you that tells you when you’re messing up? I heard it. I mean, it was there, but I didn’t listen to it. I knew I should speak up, say no, ask questions, all that—but I didn’t. Because…”
I listed all the stupid reasons. “Because I thought Donny was cool and I wanted him to like me. Because I didn’t want Jeff to think I was a weenie. Because I wanted to impress other kids from school by hanging around with Donny. Because I want a boat and a motor and stuff we can’t afford. Because I let Donny convince me the rules are different for islanders and other people.” My voice trailed off, and I looked at Mom.
There was an odd expression on her face, a combination of anger, disappointment, love, and, I thought, even understanding. “Ben,” she said softly, “it’s late. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow.” Then she exclaimed suddenly, “Oh, my goodness! I forgot that you’re working in the morning. After tonight, are you sure you should go?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m sure.” I didn’t explain—and was suddenly too tired to explain—how much I wanted to go to work.
It felt like the only part of my life I hadn’t messed up.
Twenty-two
On my way to the dock the next morning, I worried about how Chick was going to react. Had he already heard about what happened? And, if so, what did he think of me? To my relief, he acted perfectly normal, and I decided that when the day was over, I’d tell him the whole story myself.
It felt great to be out in the boat with Chick, fishing. Our clients were a lawyer from Ohio and his two sons, who were fourteen and fifteen. Even though they were older than I was, they’d never been fishing before. The bonito were breaking all around us, and I showed them how to aim their casts and how to work the lures we were using, giving them just the right action to drive the fish crazy.
“You listen to Ben,” Chick told them. “He’ll have you catching fish in no time.”
It was good to be doing something right for a change. When I was fishing, everything made sense. In a boat, I knew what to do and how to do it. On dry land, things got more complicated.
Sure enough, pretty soon both Luke and Greg had hooked up nice fish, and they shouted and whooped with excitement as they reeled. They sounded just the way Jeff and I did when the action got hot.
Greg’s fish made a sudden run, and the reel screamed as the fish took out line. I could see Greg was about to tighten the drag.
“Let him run!” I said quickly. “He’ll break off if you try to stop him.”
I showed Greg how to keep a slight amount of tension on the fish, enough to slow it down, but not enough to let it break off. I explained that we were only using a light, six-pound-test, monofilament line. Light line didn’t spook the fish, but it meant he had to be careful, especially since this fish looked like a beauty. It was probably bigger than six pounds.
When Greg had successfully gotten the fish to the boat, I reached over the side, gaffed it, and handed it to him. He held it up and posed, his face flushed red with triumph, while his father took a picture.
“Thanks, man; that was awesome!” Greg said, and turned to give me a high five. “How’d you learn to fish like that?”
I shrugged, embarrassed but also
pleased. Luckily, Luke’s fish chose that moment to make a run, and I didn’t have to answer.
By lunchtime Luke, Greg, and I were having a blast. They didn’t need any more coaching from me, and their dad told me to get a rod and fish, too. I looked at Chick, who smiled and nodded.
“Go ahead, Ben,” he said. “These fish seem determined to commit suicide. You might as well help ’em. Why don’t you use my fly rod?”
After we’d fished for a while, Greg said, “We’ve got plenty for dinner. What do we do now?”
“Keep fishing!” I said. “But we’ll let ’em go from now on.”
We caught and released about seven more bonito and a few albacore before it was time to head in. At the dock, Luke and Greg wanted to help me clean the fish, so I filleted one to show them how. They thought cleaning fish was fun, so I gladly “let them” finish the rest while I watched.
Donny had talked about sharing the wealth. He had his ideas about it, and I had mine. I didn’t mind sharing the island with guys like Greg and Luke. I didn’t care where they were from. They loved fishing, and so did I. And cleaning fish is part of fishing, I thought, grinning to myself.
Before they left, they signed up for another day’s fishing with Chick the following week.
“You’ll be here, too, Ben?” Greg asked.
I looked to Chick for an answer.
“Sure thing,” Chick said. “Can’t fish without my first mate.”
I hoped he’d still feel the same way later, when I had told him what I had to say.
After thanking us about a million times and saying they’d see us next week, Greg and Luke and their dad left, and I turned to Chick. “Chick, I’ve got something to tell you, and after I tell you, if you don’t want me to mate for you anymore, it’s okay.”
Chick looked up from the stern line he was securing to the dock. “I stopped at the Texaco for coffee this morning, Ben, and I think I already know what you’re going to tell me. What I’d like to know is, why do you think I wouldn’t want you to mate for me anymore?”
I was stunned. “You know?”
Chick laughed. “Come on, Ben. You know how fast news travels on this island. I heard the whole story. There were about ten of us there, including two guys from the police force.”
“So—” I stopped to get my thoughts together. “Aren’t you mad? Or disappointed? What do you think?”
“I’d say the more important question is, what do you think?”
I looked down at the deck. I had so many thoughts, I hardly knew where to start. I summed it up by saying, “I think I really screwed up.”
“Okay,” Chick said, “so you screwed up. Lots of people make mistakes, and they can’t admit it. Do you think I’ve never done anything really dumb? Do you think Jack Daggett never screwed up?”
“No, but—”
“Just listen for a second, Ben. You made some choices that weren’t so smart. You got yourself into something way over your head. But once you realized it, what did you do?”
“I nearly got Donny and me killed, for one thing,” I said.
“You’re determined to be hard on yourself, aren’t you? I guess there’s nothing wrong with that. But, Ben, the way I heard it, once you knew about the drugs, you tried to do the right thing. You intended to go to the police, but first you wanted to warn Donny and give him a chance to come clean, too. You didn’t know that Ray character was going to show up and start shooting. You put yourself at risk for Donny, because you thought of him as your friend. You can say it was stupid if you want, but I think what you did took courage. Can’t you see that?”
I couldn’t, not right then. But Chick’s words spread through me like a warm current.
“From what I understand, you’re going to have to spend a lot of time over summer vacation straightening this thing out. When they catch Ray Nugent, you and Jeff and Donny are all going to have to testify at the trial, and there’s going to be all kinds of legal shenanigans.
“But I want you here working for me every day you can, you hear?”
Tears flooded my eyes, and there was no way I could get words past the hard lump in my throat. I nodded.
“Here,” said Chick, handing me my pay. “Give me a call tonight after you talk to Chief Widdiss. If he doesn’t need you tomorrow, I do.”
I put the money in my pocket and turned away, wishing I knew how to tell Chick how grateful I was but hoping he knew, anyway.
It felt good to ride home with thirty dollars in my pocket, money that I had earned fishing, just the way Pop had.
Twenty-three
Before I knew it, it was the end of July and the summer was half over. Between working for Chick and meeting with Chief Widdiss and the district attorney, I was busy every second. But one Sunday morning I found myself with nothing I had to do. Chick’s motor was acting up and he was going to spend the day working on it, and it seemed the lawyers and police had gotten all the information they needed from me for a while.
Mom and Barry wanted to go to the beach, so I called Jeff to see if he could come along with us.
“Good,” I said, after his mom had given him permission. “Bring your plane, and we’ll give ’er another shot.”
We spread our towels on the sand and sat for a while, watching the people and the water and enjoying the feel of the sun and the cool, salty air. The ocean was calm, and the waves were coming in as long smooth rollers.
“Look at those little boys on their rafts,” Mom said. “They remind me of you two when you were that age. You’d stay in for hours, until you were blue. ‘Don’t you want to come in and warm up?’ I’d ask. ‘W-we’re n-not c-cold, ’ you’d say, shivering so hard you could barely talk.”
I looked at Jeff and we both smiled. I knew what he was thinking. Moms.
Barry was laughing. “What happens to us when we get old? I used to be the same way. Now I’m perfectly content to sit here and watch those kids do the swimming.”
“Aw, come on in with us, Barry,” I teased.
“Maybe in a while when I’m good and hot,” he said. “I thought you guys were going to fly that plane.”
“We are,” I said lazily. For the moment, it felt good to just lie there, doing nothing. I looked up at the clay cliffs, their colors brilliant in the sunshine. Gulls and large drag-onflies cruised the rim, effortlessly riding the warm air that rose from the cliff’s shimmering surface. It was so beautiful and peaceful, I could hardly believe this was the same place where, not long ago, Ray had been shooting at me.
I gazed out at Devil’s Bridge. The waves were breaking gently on the rocks while the gulls stood guard and a few eider ducks poked about in the shallows. In my mind, Devil’s Bridge had always been the spot where Pop caught his big record-holding striped bass. Now it was also the place where Jeff and I had found a kid’s body.
The sea, which today appeared so mild and harmless, was the same sea that had swallowed Pop and Cameron Maddox. The fury of Hurricane Lois had caused Pop’s death. Drugs and alcohol—and Ray Nugent—had led Maddox to his watery end on the rocks of Devil’s Bridge.
They’d found the stolen boat ditched over on the mainland, and not long after that they’d found Ray. A grand jury was going to decide if there was enough evidence to try Ray for murder. The district attorney said not to worry, there was plenty. There would be another trial, as well, for drug trafficking. Jeff and I were going to be witnesses. In exchange for our testimony and our cooperation, no charges would be brought against us.
I felt really lucky. Of course, I was still dealing with the charges I’d brought against myself, and I guessed it would be a while before the shame went away. Still, every day I worked for Chick, I felt a little better.
Donny was in more serious trouble. His parents had hired a lawyer, and we still didn’t know what was going to happen, except that he’d probably have to do some time in jail. The Porsche was valuable property, and he’d destroyed it. Robbing the boat was a felony, which was a big-deal crime. Then there was th
e whole drug thing with Ray, and no one was sure yet where the blame for that would fall. And, of course, Donny’d lost Jen, too.
Jeff interrupted my daydreaming. “You want to try this thing out?”
“Sure,” I said, getting up from my towel. “The wind is perfect, don’t you think? Off the ocean, but not too strong.”
“Yeah,” said Jeff. “Looks good.”
“Better go over there,” said Mom, pointing down the beach. “Away from all these people.”
“Okay.”
Carefully we got everything ready, cranked up the engine, and let ’er go. I could tell Jeff was nervous at first, but the plane flew like a bird. Soon we had it doing rolls and loops out over the water, and a crowd gathered to watch. Everybody was whooping and hollering and pointing. Jeff and I took turns at the controls, and I guess we began showing off a little, with all those people watching.
Jeff was putting the plane through a particularly tricky maneuver when it began to sputter. One minute it was climbing upward through the clear blue sky, the next it veered wildly off course and began plummeting toward the sea. A cry went up from the crowd, ending in a moan of relief as the plane pulled out of the sharp dive, evened out, and landed roughly in the shallow water near shore.
“Oh, man!” cried Jeff. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” I said, wading out into the waves with him to examine the plane. The right wing was broken, and the tail was bent pretty far to the left.
“At least it’s not totally wrecked,” he said.
“You can fix it, can’t you?” I asked.
Jeff nodded, still inspecting the damage intently. “Yeah. It won’t be easy. I’ll have to put an extra strut here,” he said, pointing to the wing. “But with a little glue and a new paper job, she could be as good as new.”
“Maybe even better than before,” I said. “Stronger.”
“Yeah.”
We were quiet for a minute, looking at the plane. Then we picked up the pieces and carried them back to our towels.
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