Chapter 48
FORTY-EIGHT
T here had been no response to repeated attempts to contact Xanthe and Charlie via radio or phone.
Based on the Emergency Locator Transmitter signal from the plane, Lachlan had to assume that the plane had gone down just off one of the smaller islands between Skelly and the southwest tip of Vancouver Island.
“Coast Guard won’t be able to launch a mission for at least thirty minutes.
I’m going out now,” he said to his brother, who had come straight to the dock to meet him.
They were both former rescue swimmers and members of the local search and rescue team.
And right now, they were their friends’ best chance.
“Yeah, let’s go,” Grey said. “I brought more gear.”
“Good. Come on.” He’d reported the emergency to the authorities right away, but it would take time for the CG to get everything in place or for the local S&R team to assemble. Darkness was closing in, and the storm was here. If Xanthe and Charlie were still alive, every minute counted.
They hurried toward Lachlan’s fastest zodiac, moored near the end of the dock.
“Wait up!”
They looked back to see Allistair and Blaine’s friend Maddy running down the dock toward them.
“Are you heading out to search for them?” Maddy asked, slightly out of breath. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt already half-soaked with rain. Not remotely equipped for a S&R mission in this storm.
“Yeah.”
“Blaine’s with them.”
Ah, shit. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, he texted me before they left. We’re coming with you.” She started past him.
He grabbed her arm to stop her. “It’s gonna be rough out there. Real rough, gale conditions. Even with a floatation suit, you’ll be soaked and freezing and get tossed around. And when we get there, I don’t know what we’ll find.”
They were already at a nine on the Beaufort wind scale, with winds gusting to more than forty-five knots. He didn’t want her in danger—or for her to see the possibly mangled remains of their friends.
But she seemed to grow several inches in front of him, raised her chin to nail him with a hard stare. “I’m tougher than I look, and that’s my best friend out there. I’m coming too.”
He glanced at Grey, who lifted a shoulder, then turned his attention to Allistair. “What about you?”
“Same as her.”
He didn’t know Maddy, but she would be safe enough with him and Grey on the boat ride there and back.
Allistair had been out with him on the water plenty of times.
He had his doubts about whether either of them could handle finding their friends’ bodies floating in the water.
It wasn’t something he wanted to see either, but at least he’d been trained for the possibility.
He’d try to shield Maddy if it came to that. He hoped it wouldn’t. “All right. Let’s go.”
Grey helped him get everything squared away on the boat in minutes, and everyone put on flotation suits. He guided Maddy into the pilothouse and put her beside him as he got on the radio to inform the Coast Guard on the way out of the harbor. Even here, the water was rough.
“I couldn’t get a signal from Blaine’s phone,” Maddy said, face tight. “Or Xanthe’s. But I checked a recent satellite image of the vicinity and didn’t see any wreckage.”
He had no clue how she’d done that, but there was a good chance the wreckage was underwater, and none of them had any idea if their friends were still alive. They’d gone down close to shore and before the brunt of the storm hit. But that didn’t mean they’d survived the impact.
“I’m going to head to the coordinates from the ELT signal. We’ll start the search there. Does Blaine have any kind of training?” Xanthe had basic first aid and survival skills.
“Yes, he’s a former Marine. He can handle himself.”
“Is he a strong swimmer?” There was a huge difference between swimming in a pool and the ocean. Especially an angry ocean.
“Yes. If they survived the crash, he’ll get the others to shore.” Her voice rang with conviction.
The last of the daylight was almost gone as they left the harbor and started northwest around Skeleton Island into the turbulent Strait of Juan De Fuca. The sea was raging now, a roiling mass of waves stretching out as far as the eye could see.
A spotlight mounted at the bow helped cut through the gloom, but the water was rough. High waves broke around them, the crests rolling over in dense streaks of foam. They knocked the boat around like a toy, kicked them around and sprayed the deck with sheets of icy seawater.
Maddy remained silent as they sped northwest, struggling to keep her footing in the rough seas.
He braced her with his body when he saw the big waves coming, but even with the shelter of the pilothouse, they were both soaked by the time they approached the crash site almost thirty minutes later.
He slowed as they reached it, turned the boat to do a 360 sweep of the area.
“Four o’clock low!” Grey shouted from the bow.
Maddy rushed out on deck to position herself near him at the starboard tube with Allistair.
Lachlan swung the bow around. Grey pointed the powerful searchlight mounted up front on the water. Between the crests of the waves, something pale floated on the surface.
A small piece of wreckage.
Lachlan’s heart sank. He’d been to crash sites before, but never to recover his friends.
They did a few more sweeps in the immediate vicinity, but didn’t see anything else on the surface. The shoreline of the closest island was a few hundred yards away. Grey aimed the searchlight toward it.
Lachlan moved them closer to shore, scanning the waves and the rocky beach. It was almost dark now. The wind howled over the surface of the water from the west, cutting like a blade and lashing rain at them sideways like needles against his face.
The crash site was right off tiny Baleen Island. It was mostly uninhabited except for a few holiday cottages and campsites scattered around the shoreline. As far as he knew, no one lived there year-round.
Grey swept the searchlight along the shore.
“Is that smoke?” Maddy called out over the wind. She pointed toward the shore off the starboard side, looked back at him to verify.
Lachlan turned the vessel to face the shore and moved in closer. It was faint, but against the last rays of rapidly dwindling light, he thought he spotted a slight smudged line rising above the trees near the shore.
“Hell yes. Come on, Xanthe,” he muttered to himself and headed toward shore through the rough surf, hope a painful pressure in his chest.
Grey aimed the light dead ahead, illuminating the way while Lachlan reported their findings to the Coast Guard. Praying for a miracle.
And then he saw a tiny flicker of light near the edge of the trees.