Always Ready

by Susan Page Davis

  Twelve

  When the Wintergreen docked in Kodiak three days later, Caddie went straight to her apartment. She would have only one day off before she was expected back on duty to help ready the ship for their long deployment. The wind held the bite of autumn, and the bitter winter of Alaska would come hard on its heels.

  Her dreams of a relationship with Aven seemed to slip away with the summer. Would they ever seize enough time together to get to know each other better? Even though his ship was in port, he might not be able to see her. His last e-mail had told how busy he’d been helping the U.S. Marshal’s office track down some smugglers.

  She didn’t even know how long Aven would be posted in Kodiak. What if he were transferred away? Although his family lived in Alaska, he might be transferred thousands of miles away. She would have to ask him about that.

  She dropped her sea bag on the rug and wearily sorted the mail she’d picked up. Her spirits lifted when she opened an envelope from the Oregonian. The check for her travel story was a nice bonus and would cover most of the Christmas gifts she wanted to buy this year. Already she’d looked over mukluks for Mira and snowshoes for Jordan.

  When she came out of the shower half an hour later, the phone was ringing. She ran to answer it, hoping Aven might be on the other end of the connection.

  “Hey, you’re back!” Jo-Lynn’s cheery voice floated to her.

  “Yes. How are you doing?”

  “Fine, after eleven every morning. Not so good before that. I’m eating like a horse once the morning sicknesspasses, though. I’ve got to be careful. Want to come for supper tonight?”

  “I think I’d better stay in and get to bed early. How about if I come see you tomorrow?”

  “Sure,” Jo-Lynn said.

  “So. . .I guess Mark’s home, too. I saw the Milroy at the docks.”

  “Yeah, they’ve got a few more days.”

  I will not ask about Aven, Caddie resolved.

  Jo-Lynn saved her the trouble. “Hey, Aven’s been tearing into this smuggling case. Did he tell you about it?”

  “Not much. Just that he’s been busy. I’ve hardly heard from him in the last week.”

  “You’ll have to get the details from him, but it has something to do with an art theft.”

  Caddie caught her breath. “When I was in Homer a few days ago, people were talking about an art gallery being robbed. That probably has nothing to do with what you’re talking about, though.”

  “I don’t know,” Jo-Lynn said. “But I gather there have been a lot of these thefts, and the stolen artwork is being smuggled out of Alaska and sold in Japan and. . .well, like I said, I’m not up on the details, but Mark and Aven were talking about it yesterday.”

  Caddie slept late the next morning and awoke grumpy and discouraged. Would her relationship with Avengo anywhere or not? She sat on the bed in her flannel pajamas and opened her Bible. Her schedule of reading took her to the last chapter of I Timothy. “But godliness with contentment is great gain,” she read. The simple words convicted her.

  She had so much—a good job, a loving family, godly friends in Jo-Lynn and Mark, and a new friend in Lindsey. She was thankful for all of them, she realized, and for Aven, too. But was she content?

  Lord, thank You for all You’ve given me, she prayed. If Aven and I never move beyond friendship, he is still a wonderful gift from You. Help me to treasure each moment we’ve had together without demanding more. If You want us to grow closer, I’ll cherish the time You give us. If not, then help me not to poison my heart with discontent.

  She rose and dressed in jeans and a wool sweater. If Jo-Lynn didn’t feel like going out, maybe Caddie could run some errands for her. She stuffed her cell phone into a deep pocket and grabbed her wallet.

  Walking down the street toward the Phifers’ duplex, she found that her land legs were wobbly. She’d grown so accustomed to the rolling deck that the pavement seemed unpredictably stagnant.

  She found Jo-Lynn eager to get out of the house.

  “Mark’s got to work all day on the ship. I don’t suppose you’d drive me to the grocery store?”

  “I’d love to,” Caddie replied, snatching the car keys from Jo-Lynn’s hand. “My cupboards are bare, and I’m craving fresh fruit.”

  Jo-Lynn laughed as she reached for her windbreaker. “Hey, I’m the one who’s supposed to have cravings.”

  They spent the day together, and Caddie declined another dinner invitation.

  Back in her apartment, she faced an evening alone, determined to continue giving thanks to God. She settled down at the table with her laptop to work on the final draft of her magazine article about Lindsey’s career. After a half-hour’s work, she phoned Lindsey to check one last detail.

  “Hey,” Lindsey said. “Remember I told you that I was going to call home this week?”

  “Yes. Did you?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “How did it go?” Caddie asked.

  “Well. . .sort of up and down. You know, I hadn’t spoken to my parents for more than three years. Mom told me today that. . .that my dad left her. He’s been gone over a year.”

  “Lindsey, I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. Well, Mom seemed. . .not happy about it, but almost relieved. It was so weird. I was speechless. And you know what? She wants me to come home at Christmas.”

  “Are you going?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Lindsey said. “But we talked for quite a while. I think we’ll keep on talking. And maybe. . . Well, we’ll see. Keep praying for me, okay?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Caddie got the information she needed for the article and went back to work, thanking God for Lindsey’s breakthrough with her mother. A knock on the door at eight thirty startled her. She rose and walked toward it, her heart racing. No one called this late.

  “Caddie?”

  Relief flooded her as she hastened to throw the dead bolt.

  “Aven! I’d about decided I wouldn’t see you this trip.”

  “I’m sorry. My original plan was to spend every possible second with you when your ship docked. God had other plans.”

  They stood eyeing each other awkwardly for a long moment. Caddie at last stepped aside. “Would you like to come in for a few minutes?”

  “If you don’t mind. I’ve missed you, and I’d like to tell you what I’ve been up to.”

  “I’d like to hear it. Excuse me a minute, and I’ll put some coffee on. . .or would you rather have hot chocolate?”

  “Chocolate sounds great.” Aven’s fatigue showed in a shopworn smile. “Seems like I’ve been running all week and haven’t had time to relax.”

  “Jo-Lynn and Mark said you’ve been busy.”

  He followed her into the tiny kitchen and leaned against the counter while she filled two mugs with water and heated them in the microwave.

  “I don’t know how much you’ve heard, but a fellow from the U.S. Marshal’s office has been here on the island for several days. He came looking for Spruce Waller and Terry Herman.”

  “Who’s Terry Herman?”

  Aven rubbed the muscles on the back of his neck. “That’s right, you didn’t know about him. Let’s see, where should I start? Terry is one of the fishermen from the Molly K.”

  “The boat you impounded back in June?”

  “That’s right. See, the Molly K was auctioned by the marshal’s office a week or two ago.”

  “Standard procedure.” Caddie opened a cupboard and took out the bag of marshmallows she’d bought that morning. Her hands shook slightly as she ripped it open. Mentally she berated herself. After telling herself for days that a permanent relationship with Aven, or the lack of one, would not shake her new serenity, she was trembling at his nearness.

  “Yes, but the odd thing about the auction was Captain Andrews, the former owner, not only showed up for the sale. . .he bought the boat back.”

  Aven apparently didn’t notice her jitters, for which Caddie was thankful. “Good for h
im.”

  “Well, yes, I suppose so. Except the marshal’s office wants to know where he got the money. Forty-seven thousand in cash.”

  “Cash?” That sounded odd, she had to admit.

  “Yes, and they’d heard that the crew raised the money.”

  “And this is bad?” She handed him his mug and a spoon.

  “Well, yes. Because none of these guys has that kind of money. Or if they do, they shouldn’t. So when the deputy marshal—Ralph Eliot, his name is—came out here to talk to the crew who live in Kodiak, I went with him. The first man, Terry Herman, told us he had no proof, but he understood while he worked on the boat that Spruce Waller’s brother was running drugs in his boat.”

  “Just like we thought.” Caddie smiled. “Now I’m getting the picture. That’s why you’ve been tied up the last few days. You’ve been out chasing the Waller brothers again.”

  “That’s right.”

  She led him into the living room and sat down on the sofa.

  Aven sat in the chair across from her.

  “So, did you catch them?”

  Aven’s face drooped. “No. We went to Spruce’s apartment and his cabin. He wasn’t around. We asked his friends and neighbors, but nobody could tell us where he was. Or if they knew, they wouldn’t admit it. We took a small boat—borrowed one of the rescue boats—and went all the way to Larsen Bay to look up Clay Waller. And guess what?”

  “He wasn’t home either.”

  “Bingo. His wife said he was away. Again. Said he and his brother went out to scout some boats. They’re thinking of buying a fishing boat together, she said. But she had no idea where they went to look at these hypothetical boats.”

  “Where do you think he is?”

  “I don’t know, but if I were a betting man, I’d put my money on him and Spruce being somewhere together.”

  Caddie sipped her cocoa. “They took Clay’s boat?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Jo-Lynn said something about stolen Alaskan art.”

  Aven nodded. “Yeah. Terry Herman mentioned it. He’d heard a rumor that Clay Waller was somehow getting scrimshaw and other artworks on the black market and trading for cocaine. And we actually arrested a man—that is, Ralph Eliot did—who had some stolen artworks in his possession.”

  Caddie listened avidly as Aven related to her how he’d gone with the deputy marshal to the souvenir shop. “The shop owner, Thomas Harper, refused to admit the stuff was stolen. But Eliot contacted the state police, and the goods Harper was packing to ship matched a list of things stolen from a shop that had just closed for the season.”

  Caddie inhaled sharply. “Not in Homer?”

  “No, here in Kodiak.”

  “Oh. Well, a store in Homer was robbed just before we docked there last week. Or maybe it was an art gallery.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. This ring has apparently been hitting businesses in several towns. Most of them, as it happens, are near where men who worked on the Molly K live.”

  “Do you think the whole crew is involved in this art and drug smuggling ring?”

  “Not the whole crew. Terry Herman wasn’t, and he didn’t want to be. He was on the fringe of it and heard bits and pieces. He wasn’t going to tell us, but his wife bullied him into it. And I really don’t think Jason Andrews was involved. He had some violations of fishing regs, but his business seemed legitimate, and he was out there working hard at catching salmon. I don’t think he used the Molly K for smuggling. It’s Clay Waller who seems to be in the thick of it. And I think he’s gotten Spruce and some of his friends to do some work for him.”

  “You mean. . .drug dealing?”

  “I don’t think so. But possibly some of the thefts. Since we impounded Andrews’s boat and they lost their jobs,some of them are hard up. Clay may have promised them some quick money. If he had a potential buyer for high quality art, he needed to come up with a good supply in a hurry.”

  “How will the state be able to get enough hard evidence to prosecute them?” she asked.

  “They’re going to lean on Captain Andrews and see if they can get any more information out of him. We suspect now that he knew what the Wallers were up to and held it over Spruce’s head. He definitely has a grudge against Spruce for causing the trouble that lost him his boat.”

  “So, if he threatened to turn Spruce in unless he gave him the money for the auction. . .”

  “That’s my take.” Aven shrugged. “But Andrews is smart. I doubt he’ll spill it. He knows he’ll lose the boat again permanently if he does and maybe go to prison, too. If you ask me, the police will have to crack this case through the art theft angle. If they can catch the people stealing art and get them to give up their contacts, the whole ring may fall apart.”

  Caddie lifted her mug and took another sip. “I guess the police have a better chance than we do of catching the boat owners bringing in drugs.”

  His thoughtful brown eyes held her gaze. “Caddie?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’ve missed you.”

  She smiled. “I’ve missed you, too, and I admit I was wondering if I’d ever see you again.”

  He raised his chin just a hair. “Mind if I come over there and sit with you?”

  “Not a bit.”

  He brought his mug of chocolate with him but slid his free arm around her as he sat down. “This is more like it. I wish I could say I’d never go away again, but I can’t do that.”

  “I know. I can’t, either.”

  He nodded. “Just so’s you know, if I don’t come see you for a while, it’s not because I don’t want to.”

  She set her mug on the coffee table and snuggled into the warmth of his embrace.

  ❧

  The Wintergreen plunged over the sea amid freezing rain and howling wind. Though it was only mid-October, Caddie was chilled to the bone. She tugged at the hood of her parka and pulled it in tight around her face. The cruel face of the Gulf of Alaska sneered at her today. With the seas so choppy, it would be next to impossible to inspect the buoys they’d set out to examine.

  Over the loudspeaker came Boatswain Tilley’s grating voice. “All hands stand by for rescue duty. Repeat. . .”

  Caddie’s radio burbled, and she nestled it close to her ear inside her hood. “Lyle speaking. Over.”

  “We’ve spotted a small boat that appears to be in distress at oh-two-five degrees. Prepare your crew to man a workboat.”

  “Affirmative.” She hurried across the deck to Jackson, knowing he wouldn’t hear her over the wind unless she got within a yard of him. “Let’s get ready to lower the workboat.”

  As the Wintergreen approached the scene, she tried not to think about her last rescue mission in a small boat. All on the buoy deck could see that a thirty-foot motorboat had been thrown up on a rocky island that was mostly underwater at high tide. Buoys they were scheduled to refit clearly marked the safe channel between this treacherous shoal and the mainland, and one on the shore shone brightly. Despite the warnings, the boat had apparently wrecked in the unusually rough seas.

  Since the Wintergreen was far too large to get close to the damaged vessel, the smaller workboat was pressed into service.

  Tilley strode onto the buoy deck as Caddie and several sailors prepared to launch it. “You stay here, Lyle,” he shouted at her. “I’ll handle this operation myself.”

  She opened her mouth and closed it again, but unvoiced questions teemed inside her. Did he think she couldn’t handle the boat in this rough water? Was it because she’d been injured last summer in the last major rescue operation she’d conducted? Or was he just spoiling for some action?

  She oversaw the launching of the boat with Tilley and three others in it. As soon as they were well under way, she hurried under cover, out of the driving rain and up to the bridge.

  Captain Raven was Officer of the Deck, and he greeted her with a nod.

  Using high-powered binoculars, Caddie could clearly see the beleaguered cabin cru
iser. The stern rose and fell with the waves, while the bow appeared to be driven up on the rocks. The craft was not about to float loose unless an unusually large wave lifted it, since the tide had begun its gradual receding.

  Two men clambered on the rocks near the bow of the boat, apparently inspecting the damage to the hull, while a third stayed in it, waving and shouting to them.

  “What will we do?” Caddie asked the captain. “Tow them in?”

  “I think the boat’s too badly damaged for that. Looks to me like a big hole in the bow. Can’t be sure, but it doesn’t look seaworthy from here.” He squinted again into his binoculars. “We’ll be out of daylight in an hour. We’ll probably help them secure their boat and then take the men off the island. They can go back when the sea is calmer and salvage their boat.”

  Caddie stood beside him as they watched the Wintergreen’s workboat approach the rocky islet through the turbulent waves. When Tilley’s boat was within hailing range, she saw the boat stand to. The coastguardsmen were visible on deck, all wearing foul-weather gear. The men on the island waved to them.

  “What on earth?” Raven lowered his binoculars for an instant and then looked back through the instrument.

  Lindsey was at the radio desk when Tilley’s voice came over the staticky airwaves. “Wintergreen, this is Wintergreen 1. Vessel in distress is declining assistance. Request orders from the OOD.”

  Raven strode to Lindsey’s side and spoke into the radio. “It’s too dangerous to leave them out there in this weather. Take them off the island.”

  “Sir, they’ve indicated they don’t want our help. Request permission to return to the ship. Over.”

  “Negative. Get those fools out of there.”

  Lindsey flashed a glance at Caddie, cringing slightly as though she was glad she didn’t have to take the orders Raven was giving. If civilians declined assistance, the Coast Guard generally left them to their own devices—unless lives were in danger. Captain Raven must believe the men on the little heap of rock would likely not survive the long night there.

  With the frigid rain and buffeting winds, Caddie had to agree. When the tide turned and rose again, that boat, staved up as it was, might float off and sink. Then what would happen to the men? They might be swept off the rocks if the wind and high seas didn’t abate.