Chapter 55
The next morning broke with clear skies and mirror-like seas. The trees around Juneau, still wet from rain the day before, dripped prismatic drops in the astonishingly brilliant sunlight.
The Tlingit woman at the Alaska Seaplanes counter weighed not only Cutter and Lola’s luggage but Cutter and Lola as well.
They took weight and balance seriously—a big reason Cutter liked to fly with them.
Unlike a few months ago, he had a lot to live for.
Augering into a mountain because some tourist was embarrassed to admit last night’s king crab feast had put him over three hundred wasn’t in the cards.
In addition to the pilot and co-pilot seat, the Alaska Seaplanes Caravan had room for eight additional passengers, with four seats running along either side of the aircraft.
There was a relatively large cargo area aft, separated by a canvas net that looked like it had seen more than its fair share of use. Lola took a seat across from Cutter.
The six other passengers were retired schoolteachers who’d driven their motorhomes from Omaha to Skagway and then taken a two-day side trip to Juneau.
Now they were heading back. One of the women caught sight of Lola’s Glock under the tail of her jacket, earning her a thumbnail explanation about the Marshals Service in Alaska and a handful of Marshals badge lapel pins for her group.
The baby-faced pilot introduced himself as Vanya and breathlessly described the magnificent round trip to Skagway he’d already taken that morning. He gave a quick safety briefing, grinning from ear to ear as if he could not wait to get back into the air.
Lola sat with her nose to the window. “Boss,” she said. “You ever think about how we get to do every day what some people save up half their lives to do once and then go home?”
“All the damn time,” Cutter said. “This place is growing on me.”
Lola’s phone began to ring while Vanya was about to put on his headset. He turned and gave Lola a smile.
“You can take that if you want. Doesn’t bother my instruments at all. Pretty sure you’ll drop the call a minute or so after takeoff, but you’re good to go for now.”
She held up the phone so Cutter could see.
It was Juneau PD.
“Ah, your friend, Jamie,” Cutter said. It was a constant in Alaska law enforcement; there was always at least one local officer who would bend over backward to please Lola Teariki.
Lola waved him off and put a finger to her ear, listening intently.
The lithe little Cessna virtually leaped off the runway in the dense morning chill. Vanya banked to the north, aiming the airplane between the emerald mountains that lined the Lynn Canal for the eighty-one-mile trip to Skagway.
Lola ended the call thirty seconds later and leaned across the aisle forehead to forehead with Cutter.
“We were right to hang around,” she whispered.
“How’s that?”
“Get this, Boss,” she said, bubbly again after a day of doldrums. “There was a smash-and-grab burglary at that gun shop out by Mendenhall Glacier. Jamie looked at the security camera footage.” Lola gave a quick up-and-down nod, making sure Cutter was following.
“It was Leo. An interesting haul, too.” She looked at a list she’d scribbled on the back of the airsick bag.
“Two Glock 19 pistols—one with a threaded barrel, a SilencerCo Omega suppressor, two boxes of nine-millimeter ammo, two Buck hunting knives, a roll of Gorilla Tape, fifty feet of Paracord, a fourteen-by-sixteen blue tarp, a bag of latex gloves, and a waterproof gear bag to put it all in.”
An animated female voice came from the next row back. “That sounds like a kill kit!”
Cutter turned to identify where the voice came from. It was one of the Omaha teachers seated directly behind him.
“Sorry,” she said. “I listen to a lot of true crime.”
Cutter chuckled. “Us too. It would be helpful if you kept what you just heard to yourself. Word travels quickly in a small town like Skagway.”
The woman tapped the Marshals Service pin they’d just given her. She’d already put it on her lapel, giving an excited grimace.
“Mum’s the word, partner!”
Her husband rolled his eyes, but Cutter couldn’t help but notice he’d pinned on his miniature badge as well.
On a hunch, Cutter got a copy of Leo Bouchard’s photo from Lola and then, unbuckling his seat belt, stooped and made his way up the aisle. He startled young Vanya with a tap on the shoulder. The pilot pulled the left side of his headset away from his ear.
“Everything okay?”
“All good,” Cutter said, showing his badge. “You mentioned earlier you took a flight to Skagway this morning before ours.”
“Yes indeed!”
Cutter showed him the driver’s license photo. “Was this guy one of your passengers?”
“Yep,” Vanya said. “Big guy. Sat all the way in the back and kept to himself. Wouldn’t let anyone help him with his bag.”
Cutter thanked the pilot and returned to his seat.
“So he was on the flight!” Lola said.
Cutter nodded. “He was.”
“Yes!” the Omaha teachers said behind him.
“Your phone work?” Cutter asked Lola.
“I have one bar.”
Cutter thumb-typed a test message and hit Send. A moment later, Lola’s phone buzzed in her hand. She sent him back a thumbs-up.
Cutter: Not sure who Leo’s working with.
But whoever it is, he’s taking them a couple of guns.
Lola: What’s the plan?
Cutter: Working on it.
Lola: Joellen?
Cutter: She’s taking the White Pass Railroad excursion into Canada. It left almost an hour ago.
“I’m okay with that,” Lola said out loud. “I’ve had my fill of trains in this job.”
“I know what you mean,” Cutter said. The passengers behind them surely wanted to know what sort of adventure they’d had on a train, but Cutter left it at that.
He looked out the window and pondered his options. A thousand feet below, the unmistakable white form of The Polar Star had already made the trip up the icy waters of the Taiya Inlet and docked at the Skagway docks.