by Mary Feliz
Stephen leaned forward. “Maggie’s right. We’re getting pretty far afield here. Let’s go where the evidence takes us and just observe what’s going on tonight. If the bad guys show up, their movements will direct our next steps.”
Stephen handed out assignments. Brian and David’s job was to increase the size of their sand pits. Stephen would check in with Jason and the ranger. Max and I volunteered to keep everyone supplied with snacks and coffee since it was shaping up to be a long night.
Renée and Jen worked on providing detailed descriptions of some of our suspects and scoured the internet for photographs of all of them.
Nell retired to her own condo, saying there were a few things she needed to check on. When I took her a plate of dessert later, she was on the phone. She answered the door, mouthed the words thank you, took the plate, and closed the door without telling me anything. Though she hadn’t said a word, her air of confidence, determination, and focus continued to buoy me. As I walked back to our condo, however, I felt my anxiety level rise again as my brain began flitting among all the different ways that our plans could go wrong. But then I thought of Rocket. And Stephen, and how successful we’d all been before when we’d worked together to set injustices to right. “We’ll do it again,” I whispered to myself. “We have to.”
I hoped I’d have no reason to doubt my words.
Chapter 24
Plopping a paper or reusable silicone cupcake-tin liner in your car’s cup holders converts them to useful (and easily cleanable) snack containers.
From the Notebook of Maggie McDonald
Simplicity Itself Organizing Services
Saturday, June 22, Late afternoon
Within moments, the condo emptied. I was alone. Nell had given Stephen the wrapped package I’d picked up from Mrs. Nesbitt’s filthy condo. He’d called a testing service that Jason had recommended—one that was accredited to provide court-admissible tests. They’d agreed to analyze it immediately, and Stephen had taken the sample to the gatehouse to meet a messenger who’d been dispatched to pick it up.
Max and the boys were on the beach, perfecting the design of the bunkers from which they’d spy on the smugglers. We’d called the state park and talked to Ranger Charlie Adams, who said he’d stop by on his next drive down the beach. Jason told us he knew Charlie and trusted him, but the park ranger/law enforcement officer was skeptical about the advisability of under-aged civilians getting anywhere near a drug-smuggling operation. In general, the park system was cracking down on existing laws that closed the beaches at night. With staffing cuts, the efforts were easier in theory than in practice. In any case, Charlie appreciated that Jason had vouched for the kids, but he insisted on checking out Brian and David himself.
I was about to join Max and the boys on the beach when I started at the sound of knuckles rapping on our front window. I peered out. A tall, scarecrow-thin man in a Smokey-the-Bear hat leaned against the stairway railing.
“Ma’am,” he said, removing his hat. “I’m Charlie Adams. We spoke on the phone.”
“Yes,” I said, “We met on the cliff after Jake’s crash, and again at Beach Street Café.” I invited him in and offered coffee, which he declined. “I spoke with your husband and your boys on the beach just now. Nice family.”
I smiled in thanks as he continued. “We sometimes have problems with people digging tunnels and pits in the sand that collapse upon them with tragic results, but your men seem to have safety well in hand. Your boys seem calm and sensible, and showed me their cell phones and a police-issue radio they were planning to use to stay in touch with adults.” He scratched his head. “Where’d they get that equipment?”
I explained our family’s relationship to the Orchard View Police Department and handed one of Jason’s business cards to Ranger Adams. “Feel free to check,” I said.
Charlie grinned. “I already have. I just wanted to see what your answer would be. Jason vouches for you and says you have law enforcement-trained personnel here with you.”
I nodded, and recited as much as I knew and could remember about Stephen and Rocket’s résumés.
“I look forward to meeting them both,” said Charlie, though I explained Rocket’s elusive nature. “And I’ve talked to your boys. If anything happens on the beach tonight, their job is to stay hidden in their sand pit. If they decide they can’t do that, the only direction they’re allowed to run is toward the stairs and straight back to your condo, from which they’re to call the gatehouse, me, you and your husband, and Stephen. They nodded solemnly when I gave them their orders, but I wanted to double check. Can they do this safely? Will you sign a waiver in case someone gets hurt? If you or your husband need help to say no to this plan, I’m happy to be the official bad guy and tell your boys I’ll award them a steep fine if I spot them anywhere near the beach after hours.”
“Thanks,” I said, meaning it. I approved of law enforcement officers who took their vows to serve and protect seriously, and were flexible in the ways they applied the law, their instinct, and their discretion in dealing with their communities. “The boys are sensible, and they will take direction or orders from Max and me, from Stephen and Rocket, and from you. Our friends in Orchard View have taught them to trust and work with the police.”
“Good,” said Charlie, nodding and returning his hat to his head. “I’ll check in with you all tonight. My hope is that the boys will have a lot of fun, but will be disappointed when no bad guys show up.”
“I’m with you,” I said, thanking Charlie again and showing him to the door. Before he left though, I thought of a few questions. “Is smuggling a big problem? What is the chance they’ll run into real drug dealers tonight? Gang members? Do you think they’ll be armed?”
He responded patiently and calmly. “Honestly? We’re much more likely to get calls about heart attacks, drunks, and out-of-control beach fires than anything else. Maybe a stray dog or an injured sea mammal, but it seldom gets more exciting than that even on the big summer holidays like July Fourth. Certainly not at this time of year. Most nights I look at the stars and fight to stay awake and alert.”
I let out a breath. “Sorry. I’m a bit of a worrywart, especially when it comes to my kids.”
“Rightly so, ma’am. Rightly so.” He touched his hat brim and turned away. I watched him descend the stairs stiffly in his work boots and then called to him. “Ranger Adams?”
He turned with his hand on the rail.
“They’ve spent nearly the whole day body surfing and digging in the sand. My guess is that they’ll sleep through any nighttime adventures on the beach.”
Charlie smiled, nodded, and returned to patrolling the beach.
* * * *
The boys set out at nine o’clock equipped with a thermos of hot chocolate, snacks, flashlights, blankets, and warm, waterproof jackets. The marine-layer had come in at four o’clock in the afternoon, and we’d suggested they might like to postpone their adventure for another night. We might as well have tried to stop the tide.
Max and Belle and I checked on them before we went to bed. Belle seemed eager to join the boys, but they feared she might bark at the smugglers and either give away the boys’ location or scare the crooks away. Both kids seemed warm, content, and excited. We had them check their phones and radios and then said good night.
“Stay far to the right as you head up the steps,” I told Max. “Otherwise you’ll trigger the motion sensor and blind us with the security light.”
I’d planned to stay awake, keeping watch over the boys and the coastline from the living room window. The second time I nodded off, I decided to leave the night watch to the boys, Charlie, Rocket, Stephen, and Munchkin. What were the chances that anything would happen anyway? The smugglers, if that’s what they were, had already dropped off a load of contraband this week. How often would it make sense to do that? Daily? I didn’t think it would be wort
h the risk. I joined Max under the covers. Fast asleep, he, like me, was fully dressed with his boots by the side of the bed, prepared to leap to action if called upon to do so.
* * * *
At three in the morning, I was jolted awake, though I wasn’t sure how or why. I stopped in the bathroom first and then crept to the window to peer out. I gasped. A flashlight bobbed on the beach, not far from the boys’ sandpit.
“Max, wake up. They’re here.” We scrambled into our shoes and jackets, leashed Belle, and flew down the steps from the condo to the boardwalk and then down the second flight of stairs to the beach, keeping left to evade the motion sensor and protect our night vision. Half running, half stumbling, across the sand, we nearly fell into the pit. Max shined his light into the faces of men who’d joined our boys, nearly blinding Stephen, Rocket, and Charlie. I sat back, breathing hard.
“False alarm. We thought you were bad guys,” I said.
“Not tonight,” said Rocket. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever heard him speak before.
“The ranger was telling us about when his dad was in the Coast Guard,” Brian said. “And German spies tried to land.”
“Cool,” I said, hunkering down, scrunching close to David, and covering my legs with the blanket. Max glanced up at the glittering sky then out to sea. Shrugging, he joined us, scooting in between Brian and Belle. Munchkin licked his face in welcome.
Charlie took a deep breath and launched into his story. “I’d just told the boys that my dad was barely old enough to enlist in the Coast Guard during World War II. I think he joined up because they patrolled the beach with German Shepherds, and he’d always wanted a dog. He claimed his job was walking on the beach at night and chatting to pretty girls who admired his dog. But the Coast Guard had received a report that there were German submarines off the coast, along with a credible rumor about a plot to land spies on the night of the new moon. Sure enough, ‘round about midnight, the dogs started barking, and a rubber raft came ashore carrying five men. They caught three of them, but two escaped over the dunes. Happened not far from here, in fact.”
“What happened then?” Max asked. “Did they catch the other two? I’ve never heard of spies landing on our shores in the 1940s.”
Charlie nodded. “They hushed it up at the time, but the Germans tried it more than once.”
He poured steaming coffee from a thermos into a red plastic mug, and then held up the thermos, offering some to the rest of us. We shook our heads. “No thanks. Go on,” Max said. “This history is news to me. What happened?”
“You have to remember that, back then, there weren’t so many people living around here, and everyone knew one another. The Germans made their way to the train station planning to hop a bus into San Francisco and the U.S. Army’s Western Defense Command at the Presidio. They looked, spoke, and dressed like Americans, and their papers seemed legit.”
“So, how’d they catch ‘em?” asked David. “Was there a secret code or password they didn’t know?”
“Nothing quite so romantic. The same townspeople took that bus every week up into the city. They knew right away that the men weren’t locals. A young Army nurse on leave was headed back to work at Letterman Hospital and phoned her boss before the bus took off. A contingent of military police met the spies when they got off the bus in San Francisco.”
“Did your dad get a medal or anything?” Brian asked.
“Better than that,” Charlie said. “He met my mother. She had a job babysitting for the summer and was taking the kids to the beach. They wanted to meet the heroes who caught the spies. My mom liked German Shepherds. One thing led to another and here I am.”
We chatted a little longer before Charlie left to continue his rounds. He gave us each his direct line and waited while we programmed the number into our phones. We watched as his truck’s red taillights disappeared into the darkness. The tide had come in. Waves crashed on the shore, sometimes hard enough to shake the sand. I shivered and snuggled closer to David, who yawned. “Looks like our big adventure is a bust,” he said.
“Hmm,” I said in a whisper as I squinted into the darkness beyond the bunker. “Look there.”
Coats and blankets rustled as everyone shifted to peer over the edge of our hiding place at what looked like a small kayak paddled by one man. I thought that a second man waited on the shore, though it was hard to tell in the nearly complete darkness. But then he called out. Rocket pulled on a pair of what I assumed were night vision goggles that made him resemble a cyborg. He scrambled silently from the bunker and disappeared. Stephen tapped at the dimmed display of his smartphone, and I assumed he was alerting Charlie to the smugglers’ arrival.
Max held Belle close to his side in an effort to keep her comfortable. The safer she felt, the less likely she was to bark. But she sniffed, and Munchkin lifted his ears.
Stephen peered over the rim of our bunker, keeping an eye on Rocket. Every muscle in his body seemed tense, like a cat poised to launch itself at a mouse.
The police radio crackled. David grabbed it and turned down the sound. He looked up. By the dim light of Max’s shielded flashlight, I could see David’s face was filled with alarm. “Someone’s had a heart attack at the campground,” he said. “And the shower building is on fire. Charlie’s responding. We’re on our own.” He jerked his head in the direction of the men with the kayak.
I tried to dial 9-1-1, but there was no response from my phone. I squinted at the screen, wishing I’d thought to wear my glasses. “No battery,” I whispered. “I’ll go back to the condo and phone the police and the gatehouse.” I put my hand firmly on David’s shoulder and stared at Brian. “You two listen to your father and Stephen. Stay put.”
I ran to the steps, keeping my head low and, I hoped, out of sight in the darkness. But as I crested the top of the steps the security light clicked on and illuminated me like a stage light, announcing my presence to the bad guys and anyone else in the vicinity. I froze, hissed, and then dropped to my knees below the level of the dunes. How could I have forgotten the motion sensor? No way could the bad guys miss that. I crouched deeper as Belle barked and I heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.
Chapter 25
Need an easy way to contain dirt and debris on a car trip? Cover your rear passenger seats with a fitted sheet or mattress protector. As often as necessary, the sheet can be removed and shaken out or laundered.
From the Notebook of Maggie McDonald
Simplicity Itself Organizing Services
Sunday, June 23, Early morning
“9-1-1 Watsonville,” said the dispatcher who answered my call. “What is the emergency?”
I introduced myself, explained I was at Heron Beach, and that we suspected smugglers were transporting heroin. “If you hurry, you can catch them. I heard a gunshot.” My thoughts weren’t as organized as I’d have liked, but I hoped the experienced officer could make sense of them and send help immediately. My hopes were dashed.
“I’ve recorded your call and alerted our officers. They’ll respond as soon as possible.”
“Right away?”
“We’re responding to a heart attack and fire at the state beach campground and a three-alarm fire with casualties at the apple juice plant,” the dispatcher said. “I have no one to send at the moment, but we’ll get an officer to you as soon as we can. Within the next thirty minutes, I’m sure.” She’d sounded mature, poised, and in control when she first answered the phone but now seemed younger and more flustered in the face of so many demands on the local emergency teams. I could hear more phones ringing unanswered in the background. “Thank you,” I said, and ended the call.
I didn’t feel thankful. I was angry and scared. I closed my eyes and leaned against the frame of the open front door. I needed a moment to catch my breath. Everyone I loved most was on the beach and in danger. That’s where I needed to be, whether I could be
of help or not. I grabbed a spray bottle of window cleaner and a flashlight from under the kitchen sink and dashed back to the beach.
It was chaos. From the top of the dunes, I could hear Munchkin and Belle, doing their best impressions of attack-trained dogs, snarling and barking. I squinted into the darkness. Waiting for my eyes to adjust and tell me where I could help most, I missed what was right in front of me.
I descended the steps and gasped as I was grabbed from behind by a bulky, fishy-smelling man. I raised the bottle of window cleaner and pulled the trigger, spraying directly behind my head. I heard a groan and the strength of the arms holding me lessened. My own eyes stung. I hoped that at least some of the vinegar-based fluid had reached my attacker.
I hit him over the head with the flashlight and escaped, charging toward Brian and David in the sand pit. Lights bobbed in the darkness, growing larger as they approached us. Rocket and Stephen had subdued two of the men. After marching the bad guys toward us, they ordered them to sit on the cold damp sand.
Rocket cuffed my attacker, dragged him roughly to his feet, and pushed him to the ground next to the other two men. He met the description of the gang leader, Oscar Ochoa—Oh Oh. He looked familiar to me and I realized I’d seen him before, when we’d had breakfast at the Beach Street Café. Charlie had been there too. If only we’d known then what we knew now, we could have arrested him then.
The other bad guys seated at Stephen’s feet were not much older than Brian and David. I didn’t recognize them, but where Oscar appeared sullen and defiant, the younger boys craned their necks to look Stephen in the eye, chattering rapidly in Spanish.
Max hugged me hard, then stepped behind me to make room for embraces from both of our boys. Belle sat on my foot and leaned hard into my leg. Her head pressed tightly against my knee, gazing up at my face until I reached down to massage her ears. “Are you all okay?” I asked. “I heard a gunshot. Is anyone hurt?” I stepped back from the boys and Max, scrutinizing their bodies for blood and injuries. Tears ran down my face from the vinegar spray.
