by Jordan Dane
But she was no stranger to the concept of keeping secrets herself. She had Tanya Spencer working something personal for her, so when her cell phone vibrated, she suspected the call might be from her. On her cell phone display there was a disturbing text message from Tanya.
Target left Chi via air, west. More to follow.
The night she met the bounty hunter face-to-face at her apartment, she’d been given a way to contact the woman if something came up. Having Jessica Beckett’s cell phone number had its advantages, her GPS location being one of them. That night, she’d had a hunch that having a means to track the bounty hunter might eventually pay off. And apparently her ability to read Jessica had been dead on. According to Tanya, Beckett had left Chicago and was heading west via airplane.
Alexa found it ironic that in a world filled with technology, she relied most on her instincts for human nature as the best tool in her arsenal of tricks. And something in her gut had told her that Jessica wouldn’t stay put in Chicago, waiting for a status call. But being right wasn’t much consolation. Where in the hell was the woman going?
She’d never seen anyone more stubborn—except when she looked in the mirror.
Damn it, Jessica. What are you up to now?
She deleted the text message and stowed her cell phone, making sure Garrett hadn’t noticed. Being on her own mission left her no time to fret over Beckett, but she couldn’t help the fretting part. She respected the bounty hunter’s abilities, even though her methods were often questionable. But somewhere along the way, she found herself liking the woman—completely unacceptable.
If Jessica Beckett got killed because she was in over her head, Alexa didn’t want to feel responsible. But she knew it was already too late for that.
Savoonga, Alaska
St. Lawrence Island
Dusk AKDT
Payton had helped her pack for the trip, making sure she brought the bare essentials and enough layers of clothing to keep her warm. Their trip from Chicago to Alaska would gain them three hours, giving Payton enough time to arrange for a private charter, make a few other logistical calls, and get them to the island before nightfall. She understood his sense of urgency, even in the face of a staggering wall of unknowns.
Since the village of Savoonga was centrally located on the island of St. Lawrence, he had elected to fly there. It had been a long flight, but she hadn’t slept much on the small plane, only fitful dozes. She had too much on her mind and her past bubbled to the surface again, threatening a repeat of her recurring childhood nightmare. But she’d refused to succumb.
Now their plane was preparing to land and made a pass over a sparse airstrip near Kookoolik Cape on the Bering Sea, the island’s northern coastline. The sky was overcast and metal gray, giving the land a drab and listless feel. Barren tundra with small ponds and marshy areas dotted the landscape below. And from what she could see, dwellings were built for function rather than aesthetics, and butted up against one another in clusters between worn dirt trails. The word “bleak” came to mind.
When Jess gazed down at the tight grouping of houses and buildings that represented the whole of the community, the plane lurched when it hit an air pocket. Her stomach leapt too, but not only because of turbulence. She’d never seen a community like this, so foreign to what she knew. Payton wasn’t kidding about roughing it. At that moment she felt she had no business being here, though she wasn’t about to admit it to him.
“Did you know that from the western tip of the island you can actually see tomorrow?”
She spoke loud enough to be heard over the engine and forced a smile. She explained to Payton that the International Date Line crossed between the western tip of the island and the Siberian coastline, allowing a person to actually see tomorrow.
“And the island is only thirty-eight miles from Siberia.”
She was full of useless information about St. Lawrence, things Seth had shared with her off the Internet before she’d left Chicago. Harper had compiled a file of tidbits that she’d read on the plane as a distraction when she couldn’t sleep. And she’d picked out a couple of choice ones to bestow upon her travel companion, but Payton only smiled politely, looking preoccupied and tired.
During the flight, he’d taken a drink, but she noticed he stopped at one, something she imagined didn’t happen often. She suspected he walked a tightrope with his sobriety, and most days it probably didn’t take much to topple him. But the situation with his niece had tested him. All things considered, she thought he’d shown remarkable restraint, but Payton had a problem he had yet to deal with. And she knew what “coping in denial” was all about.
Nikki weighed heavy on his mind, and it showed. He’d spent time on the phone with his friend, Joe Tanu, arranging for someone to meet their plane when it landed. And Joe had updated him on his sister’s condition. Waiting for word on Nikki had spiraled Susannah headlong into a nightmare that only another parent could fully appreciate—or an uncle who loved his niece like a daughter. For his own reasons, he hadn’t told Susannah about his rush trip to St. Lawrence Island. He probably figured another dead end would be too much for her.
Payton had to feel powerless to help his sister. And Jess had been connected to his family’s plight long enough to feel his pain.
“How’s your—”
Jess stopped talking when the aircraft made its final turn, and looked out the window to watch the landing, a glutton for punishment. The plane swung in almost sideways when a strong gust of wind buffeted the fuselage. She gripped her armrest and refrained from comment until the charter landed with a series of bumps that jarred her teeth.
“Smooth.” She let go of the armrests. “Real smooth.”
“The landing’s over and no longer a problem.” He cocked his head. “And complaining isn’t allowed.”
“Who’s complaining? My compliments to the pilot, for cryin’ out loud.” She furrowed her brow. “He didn’t kill us. I’d call that a good flight.”
The airport terminal was nothing more than a metal Quonset hut that she would have mistaken for a warehouse if not for the wind sock on a flag pole, thrashing in the gusts. A smattering of small planes were tied down outside, with wooden blocks at their wheels, and signs were posted for Frontier Flying Service and a couple of other carriers.
While Payton took care of offloading the plane and their belongings, she contended with the steady wind and gazed over the horizon, assessing her surroundings. The terrain was mostly flat and boggy, not much more than a wind-battered finger of land surrounded by a turbulent sea.
And as far as her eye could see, the beachfront was made up of peculiar gravel, stones that looked like large marbles under her boots. She was thankful Payton had insisted she wear sturdy hiking boots, but this type of turf would be difficult to walk for any distance. Her feet sank into the stones and shifted under her weight, making each step a little unstable.
“Good call on the footwear, Archer,” she muttered, zipping up her jacket against the wind that caused her eyes to water. “So this is the last frontier.”
Natives of the island had come to check out the newcomers, mostly curious dark-haired children with dimpled round faces and narrow squinting eyes. They had on bright print clothes and colorful smocks under their jackets, and some wore rubber boots to walk the shoreline. The seasoned faces of older Native men and women stared blankly from a distance, their eyes hard to read.
She felt out of her element as she took a quick look around. No big city noise. No traffic. Nothing familiar. And an odd stillness closed in on her, prickling her skin with a chill—aided by the realization that she’d entered a world so radically different from any she had experienced.
Even the air had its uniqueness. It carried a salty mist that covered her skin with grit, but the seabirds thrived in it. They shrieked and drifted overhead, suspended in place by the stiff breeze, scavenging the beach and a nearby dump.
But on the wind, the normal odor from the ocean carried another smell
. She tried to identify the stench, focusing on the refuse dump that was filled with an assortment of debris from rusted metal barrels to what looked like massive and decaying driftwood blanching to a dull gray in the sun. In the dying hours of the day, a swell of seabirds hovered over the discarded heap and dive-bombed the rubble, foraging for food in near frenzy.
What was the attraction?
“That smell. Is it coming from the dump over there?” she asked Payton when he got within earshot. He shifted his gaze to where she pointed.
“That’s not your standard dump, exactly,” he said. “Most of that is whale carcasses.”
“Well, that’s something you don’t see every day on Michigan Avenue.”
“And the smell is rotting blubber left on the bones,” he added. When she winced, he said, “Don’t worry. The wind will shift and make the odor more tolerable. After a while you won’t even notice it.”
She stared at the garbage heap again, trying to picture Moby Dick, but gave up. “I’ll never eat sushi again. I swear to God.”
“Well, you gotta remember these people subsistence hunt off the sea like their ancestors have done for two thousand years. They probably have access to a small grocery, but most of their meat comes without plastic wrap.” He brushed back a strand of her hair that had blown across her cheek. “Since they don’t get much sunlight in the winter, they cache or stockpile their food during the summer, when they have longer hours to hunt and no ice to contend with.”
“What do they eat—exactly?” she asked. He’d piqued her interest.
“Berries, roots, and greens from the land, but mostly they fish and hunt for walrus, seal, whale…maybe the occasional reindeer or game bird.”
A couple of Native kids zipped by them riding an all-terrain vehicle. The ATV was throttled on high and the wheels kicked up a rooster’s tail of gravel as they barreled down a worn path.
“That looks like fun.” She grinned and watched them drive away.
“ATVs in summer, snowmobiles in winter. And yeah, they’re fun, but around here they’re a necessity.”
“Do you know the population of the island?”
“Not exactly, but I would guess around fifteen hundred people. Mostly Yup’ik, from what I understand.” He took her hand and led her toward the makeshift airplane terminal. “Come on. We’ve got a guy to meet in the office here. Joe set it up.”
Following him, Jess realized she’d asked her questions for a reason.
The more she understood about the people who inhabited St. Lawrence, and as she got a better look at the island, the more she wondered if they’d made the right choice to come here. If Globe Harvest steered clear of isolation to better cover their tracks and mask their operational needs, St. Lawrence Island would be the last place on earth they’d want to be.
She wondered if Payton would eventually come to the same conclusion. And she knew if he did, it would break his heart.
Although she steeled herself for what might happen, she was suddenly glad to be with him…as his friend. If the search for Nikki ended here, they might never pick up another trail to follow. Even if Alexa suddenly sprouted a heart and called with good news that Globe Harvest had been shut down in some areas of the world, that didn’t mean those bastards would be out of commission for good—or that Nikki’s whereabouts could be traced at all.
Conceivably, they might never find her—or her body.
And that would mean no closure for Payton and his sister. They’d be devastated. Before this moment, she hadn’t realized what the trip to St. Lawrence Island meant to him. But now, she had no doubt in her heart that he did.
Payton knew exactly what this trip meant—and what was at stake for Nikki.
CHAPTER 28
“Are you Frank?”
Payton didn’t wait for an answer. Jess watched him offer his hand to a man in the airstrip office.
“My name’s Payton Archer.”
A man wearing an Alaska State Trooper uniform was filling a coffee mug and making himself at home. With her body clock turned upside down by the time change, the coffee smelled good.
“Yeah, that’d be me.” The man grinned and shook Payton’s hand. “Frank Toyukak out of Nome. Your friend Tanu and me, we go way back. I’ll be happy to help any way I can.”
Trooper Frank had a distinctive oval face with high cheekbones. His dark skin was weathered by age and marked by laugh lines. His black hair and spindly moustache were peppered with gray, and his eyebrows had a pronounced arch. They made him look as if he had a constant surprised expression on his face. The man had a quiet voice and reserved manner that Jess liked immediately. He looked like a straight shooter.
Payton introduced her. “This is Jessica Beckett, out of Chicago.”
“Hey, Frank.”
“You’re a long way from home,” the man remarked, and shook her hand. “Good to meet you both. You care for coffee? It ain’t Starbucks, but it’s plenty hot.”
The trooper poured coffee into ceramic mugs, but let them add any cream or sugar. While he played host, he said, “Sorry to hear about your niece. I read the missing person report after Joe called. And he filled me in on this Globe Harvest organization you’re chasing. Do you really think they’re operating here on the island?”
“We have reason to believe it’s possible, but I admit it’s a long shot.” Payton took a gulp of coffee and glanced her way, a worried look on his face. “We want to pursue any lead we’ve got. That’s why we’re here. And Joe said you might help.”
“I’ll do what I can, but it’s a little late in the day to do much now.” The trooper set down his coffee and stepped over to a desk to spread out a topographic map of the island. “Speaking of that, Joe said you might be camping overnight and may not have time to pack. I brought a duffel bag of personal gear and a cache of food and water for a few days if you need it.”
“Days?” Jess tried to keep the question out of her voice but failed.
“Ah…thanks, Frank.” Payton shot her a sideways glance. “That’ll help. We appreciate it.” The fact that he’d emphasized the word “we” had not escaped her notice.
“But if someone is abducting young girls and using St. Lawrence as a base of operation,” the trooper continued, “they’d stand out for sure. Let me give you a map tour of the island. It might speed things up since we’ll lose the light soon. Or maybe you’d prefer I find you a place for the night and we start fresh in the morning. Your call.”
“No, I’d rather do what we can now,” Payton said, directing his attention to the map.
“Joe told me you’d say that, so here’s what I know.”
According to Frank, the island was sparsely populated and mostly inhabited by Natives. The man gave them a run-down using the detailed map. At first Jess suspected there wouldn’t be many places for Globe Harvest to hide their operation, but the trooper shared his thoughts on other activity on the island. If Globe Harvest was there, they could cover up their actions a number of different ways.
“Two Alaska Native Corporations own St. Lawrence Island and manage the resources. The Natives who live here are considered indigenous shareholders and are allowed to excavate sites for old bones, artifacts, and walrus ivory to barter or sell. We get traffic through here from that too.”
“I hate to ask this, but isn’t that looting?” Payton asked, raking a hand through his hair. She could tell he expected to get more direction from the trooper, a place to start their search, but the man only gave them more to consider. The island seemed like a haystack with Nikki being a needle.
“Here they call it subsistence digging for old stuff.” The trooper shrugged. “We also get oil and gas companies sending reps to scout out offshore locations for exploration. What I’m trying to say is, things happen on the island from time to time, but generally I know about it.”
He gave a broader overview of the terrain and offered his Robinson R-44 Clipper II helicopter for them to see the island firsthand when the time came. After he was
done, Payton looked more dejected, but he pressed the trooper for more.
“No, this can’t be it. There’s gotta be something…” He leaned over the desk, staring at the map in frustration. “In Chicago they’d taken over an old textile factory. The place looked deserted from the outside. Do you have anything like that here?”
Payton was grasping at straws now. And by the look on his face, he knew it too. From what she had seen, St. Lawrence Island had little that could be construed as a substantial commercial property, but when Frank didn’t answer Payton right away, it gave Jess hope that she was wrong.
“Well, there is the old Air Force station at Northeast Cape, but it was shut down in the seventies.” The trooper pointed to a section on the map. “As far as I know, no one goes there except…”
“Except who?” Payton sounded hopeful.
“More like…except for what,” the Native man corrected. “That facility was mainly a radar site, an Air Force listening post back in the early fifties, but later they abandoned it.” His face grew more somber. “Many of the local Natives used to camp and hunt in that area until they started to get sick. Real sick.”
“Sick?” she asked. “From what?”
“Cancer mostly,” the trooper replied. “But other diseases too. Some say from PCB exposure.”
“That’s awful.” She couldn’t imagine such a thing, getting struck down by disease that might have been brought by outsiders. Life on the island looked hard enough without the added complication.
“Yeah, many died before they finally figured it out, but it was too little, too late.” Toyukak shrugged. “No one goes there anymore. They know to stay away. The government conducted a clean up program in 2003. They say it’s clear, but we get the occasional air traffic for inspections, soil testing, or remediation efforts. If that land is supposed to be okay, then why do we still have government types flying through? I doubt we’ll see an end to it anytime soon.”
