Chapter 48
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Lady Melinda—Sitka, AK
Anya stuck the trolling snaps and other gear she’d bought into a locker and began tidying the cabin.
The officers coming down the dock were getting closer, surveying each boat as they passed.
She turned on her boom box radio. Pat Benatar was belting out “Hit Me with Your Best Shot.”
Anya rehearsed in her head.
It was terrible. He was just there, dead. Blood everywhere. I didn’t know what to do and I was afraid, so I left and called you guys right away.
She looked around the salon for any signs Thomas had been there.
She stuffed the fillet knife back into the drawer and covered the Smith & Wesson with a dish towel.
She pulled out a pot, ran some water into it, lit a burner, and placed it on the stove.
She pulled a few ingredients out of the cupboards and set them on the counter.
Still no sign of the cops.
She grabbed a beer from the cooler, opened it, and drank a few quick gulps.
“Mrs. Baron? Sitka Police. May we come in?”
Anya turned toward the door, her beer in her hand, and shouted. “Who is it?” She made a show of picking up a bag of flour and moving it to the other side of the counter.
Two uniformed policemen were stepping from the dock finger over the starboard gunwale and onto the boat.
“Oh, come on aboard. I’m so glad you’re here!”
The policemen looked around the fishing cockpit and eased into the rear door of the salon.
“Come on in. I was just cooking dinner. Have you learned anything yet? It’s just terrible. I called you guys right away.” Anya opened the silverware drawer and pulled out a fork and knife. “Can I offer you a beer?” She held up her beer. “Please, sit down.”
“I’m Officer Collins.” He took a couple steps inside.
The other officer followed him without introducing himself. “No ma’am, we can’t drink on duty. Thanks for the offer, though.”
Collins was short and stocky with anxious blue eyes, short buzzed hair, and freckles.
His hand was hovering over his holster, fiddling with the snap.
He was looking all around the salon, dipping his head down to peer up into the pilothouse, leaning aside to look down into the sleeping cabin. “Have you got a minute to talk?”
As if on cue, the pot she’d put on the stove started spewing steam from under the lid. Anya turned off the flame and moved the pot to a different burner. “Oh, of course. How can I help you? The whole thing is just awful. I’ve been shaking all day. Any idea what happened?”
Collins held his hands out with palms up and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry—I see you’re in the middle of fixing dinner. We could come back in an hour or so. We really don’t know anything yet.” He leaned to one of the port-side salon windows and looked toward the boat in the next slip.
The song on the radio ended and the announcer came on. “And now a ‘Muskeg Message’: Greg and Mary Beth’s daughter Nina lost her new birthday doll, fourteen inches tall, blonde hair, blue-and-white satin dress. Lost Friday on bus number seventeen. Reward offered. Call 8470 anytime.”
Anya clicked the propane safety shutoff and stepped out of the galley. Her stomach was tied in a knot. She kept one hand on the counter to try to avoid shaking obviously. She faked a cough. “Can I get you some water?”
Collins shook his head. “We’re hoping you can help us. Would you mind coming down to the station, maybe after you eat?”