Chapter 20
TWENTY
Duke held the rope ladder on the larger boat they’d commissioned to take back to the coordinates. She slowly climbed up. Funny how she could race up the ladder when she knew it wasn’t going anywhere. She wasn’t going to a watery grave today.
The deck of this boat slipped under her feet, and she thanked God that she’d chosen to wear running shoes instead of her heels that day. Heels hadn’t been an option anyway in the sand, but she never wore runners to work, until today. It’s not a job. You’re helping. There’s a difference.
Duke swung over the side a few paces behind her, clearly at ease with everything about the boat, the water, and the people. Ferd took a deep breath and leaned against the wall as she headed for the cabin to collect her life vest, as she’d been told to do back on solid ground.
Duke came up behind her. “You good?”
Was he rushing her or worried? “Yeah, fine. Why?”
“You’re shaking. I thought the bigger boat would even out the waves and help.”
His low voice forced her to notice. Why had he considered her in this? They needed the bigger boat to pull the box out of the water.
“I don’t know why you’d care. This is a case.
I’ll suck it up and get the job done. Not like I haven’t dealt with discomfort before.
” Thinking about her gunshot wound made her leg tense involuntarily and she held in a wince.
Yesterday, she’d pushed too hard. Today, she’d taken more pain meds than she had in weeks.
His face hardened slightly. “Noted. Let’s get suited up and get that box.” He passed her and ducked into the cabin just ahead.
Inside, the captain stood at a set of controls that looked like a cross between a car's dashboard and an airplane cockpit. A man she didn’t recognize handed her a life vest and efficiently told her how to put it on and use it.
She belted it in place and met back up with Duke by the chartered captain.
“We’re heading out in two minutes. Everyone is accounted for. We have four men and a winch to bring the box onboard, the owner of the vessel has said he’s the only one to touch the winch. It shouldn’t take long. Duke, are the forensic techs on the way?”
Duke nodded. “They’re coming from Cheyenne. Since they had to put a team together and drive this morning, they likely won’t get here until we’re back on shore.”
A man approached her from behind, his hot breath blasting her ear. “Who are you, young lady?”
Her spine tightened and she stepped forward to avoid his touch, then turned to face him. “Ferd Kincade, Cody PD.” She held out her hand. “And you are?”
He waved her hand away. “Just a nosy old fisherman. You don’t look like a cop.”
Ferd squared her shoulders. Shouldn’t have worn the running shoes. Duke appeared at her side. “Hey, Carl. Thanks for the use of your boat and winch.”
The old fisherman’s eyes blinked between the two of them. “After hauling nets for twenty years in the Bering Strait, this should be easy.”
“Crab fishing?” she asked. His look made prickles run up her arms.
“Yeah, not much fun, but it pays the bills until you can’t do it anymore. Then you fish whatever you can get a job to fish for.” He turned and walked away.
He’d gone out of the enclosed cabin and his footfalls disappeared before she felt comfortable enough to ask about him. “Who is he? Besides disturbing?”
Duke snorted. “He’s lived here for as long as I have.
He used to own Ahab’s when it was a place to get fish, not steaks, because he knew so many guys in the industry.
I remember when I was young going there for fish sticks that were crispy on the outside and tender inside. I never ordered anything else.”
“So, he’s a staple in Piper’s Ridge? Got it.” That didn’t mean she had to like him.
“Everyone knows Carl.”
The engine made a low grinding hum as it reversed out of the slip. She hadn’t expected a boat to back out like a car. It was different, but similar. “Where can I sit on this thing?” She looked to Duke for answers since she didn’t want to distract the captain.
“There are benches built into the bow. I’ll show you.” He led her to the front of the boat where narrow wooden planks that flipped up acted as both storage and seating, right in front of the window the captain looked through to steer.
“I’m not blocking his view. What if we hit something and it’s my fault?” Not that she could see a single other vessel on the water in the pelting rain.
Duke gripped her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “You won’t. Go ahead and have a seat. I promise I won’t take you on the water anymore.”
She glanced at her watch and took a deep breath. She’d been on anxiety meds since the shootout, but had weaned herself off them the week Bailey was killed because she was fine. Everything was fine. A woman her age shouldn’t need to be taking all those pills.
Maybe she’d chosen to get off them too soon. She lowered herself onto the bench and closed her eyes, blocking out the visual of the water, even if she could still hear the waves splashing against the hull.
Lord, I’m scared. You’ve given me strength to deal with a lot, but I guess I’m not healed from what happened. Help me to feel steady on my feet and at ease to get the job done.
She wanted the instant fix that some people talked about, but that didn’t happen. Instead, the boat slowed and came to a stop. Carl called for the other men to the starboard side. Ferd swallowed hard and followed the sound of his voice all the way to the stern of the boat.
There, in the water, was the box as they’d left it, appearing to bob on the surface like it wasn’t held down with something . . . Weight. It had to be held down, or an empty box like that would float vertically. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
“Duke, it might be anchored in place.”
He nodded. “That’s what we’re assuming. The container looked to be about ten feet deep, if I had to guess. Could be that the bottom is weighted too. We won’t know until we use the pulley to bring it up to the boat.”
“How deep is the water here?” She peered over the edge.
“One hundred thirty-six feet,” one of the men answered as he zipped up his wet suit and leaned against the rail of the boat.
“What’s he doing?” Ferd controlled her panic, barely.
“He has to go into the water to hook up the winch. Hopefully, below the surface, there are more than the one handle we can see. Otherwise, we’ll need to figure out a different way or risk breaking it.”
Ploop.
While she’d been distracted by Duke, wetsuit man had gone in.
She inched closer to the edge. Now with someone there, she could see a few feet under the surface.
The skin of his forehead contrasted brightly against the black fabric protecting him from the cold water.
Within a minute, he broke the surface and gave a thumbs-up sign.
“Send down the hooks. Two.” He dove again by pushing slightly upward, then folding over and heading straight down.
Prickles covered her arms and she rubbed them, even with a jacket to keep her dry. Everyone else on the boat knew what they were doing. They weren’t nervous. She didn’t have to be either.
Carl positioned himself at the winch handle, gripping it with both hands. He waited for the signal, then cranked slowly, straining against the weight. Another man came to help, and he moved over to allow the other man to assist.
When the bottom of the box came into view, all the men on the boat except the two working the lift sent up a cheer.
Two other men reached out to steady the box.
At ten feet tall, the winch wouldn’t be high enough.
They’d have to hook it at the bottom somehow and swing it aboard, then lower the top onto the deck.
Ferd pressed her back against the wall behind her.
When had the boat tilted like that? She couldn't find solid footing. She was slipping. Her throat tightened and she reached for the little cord to release the air canister to blow up her life vest. Duke was too busy coordinating all the men. She’d have to keep an eye on the issue all by herself.
Surely the captain would say something if they were in danger of capsizing, right?
One of the pressurized air canisters on the box exploded, sending shards of sharp plastic into the men. Blood. Mayhem. Ferd screamed and crouched, covering herself as the box sank beneath the surface and quickly out of sight.