Black Tide Rising (24 page)

He flexed his shoulders and worked the muscles in his arms and legs, aware that every sound he made might attract attention. The judo katas had been finished hours ago, and new constellations had appeared above his head, each following the other until the stars disappeared altogether. He hadn't planned on being here this long—hadn't planned at all, if he were to be honest. As usual, he had simply acted. Followed the scent like a damn tracking dog without a master to guide him. Maybe he should go back to the city and rejoin the squad. Regular hours—at least for most of the time. A lieutenant and a staff sergeant to assign duties. Support personnel to handle the grunt work. A team to work with rather than this lone-wolf stuff. And he could go home at the end of the day to his own bed …

An image of the house he had shared with Susan rose unbidden before him, and he squeezed his eyes closed to hold the memory back. He wouldn't think about that. It was over. He had put it behind him. Moved on. He couldn't go back. Now he had Claire … He clamped his jaw shut on a groan. No, he didn't have Claire. He had screwed that up too. What the hell was the matter with him?

“He ain't coming.”

The sound of a voice snapped him back to the present and pulled him out of the bog of self-pity he was wallowing in. The men were moving. Dan pushed himself lower into the bushes and twisted his head toward the rustle of branches.

“Yeah, he is. And I bet he'll be here long before Stephanson shows up.”

“I dunno, man. This whole thing is fucked. With our luck, Stephanson's already been and gone.”

“Jesus! Give it a rest, will you. The man is coming. All we have to do is watch that road and we'll see him. Now get down to the boat and see if you can find something to eat, and then get back out here. We need to take care of that little bastard before Stephanson gets here.”

The men passed within twenty feet of where Dan lay hidden. Two of them, one tall and heavyset with dirty-blond hair, one small and dark. Rainer and Sleeman for sure. But if Coffman was the guy on the trail, who the hell was Stephanson?

Dan watched as the two men moved away from him and Rainer disappeared from sight, then listened to the sounds of their voices as they continued their conversation. Only when he was sure Sleeman was no longer moving did he carefully push himself up into a crouch. He needed to call in some help—would have done it earlier if he'd been able to—and then find himself a better place to hide. If he stayed where he was, they just might fall over him when they left the boat again.

Moving slowly, he made his way back toward the logging camp. He had to stay hidden in case the men left the boat sooner than expected, which meant staying low and working his way through the bush. He had barely made it halfway when he heard doors slamming and a generator starting. The logging camp was waking up. Maybe an hour, hour and a half, for breakfast, and then there would be traffic on the road, first the vans and pickups taking the loggers to the cut block, and later the logging trucks and the machinery operators. If Jerry Coffman hadn't already made it here, the vehicles would probably push him back into the bush and slow him down. That might give Dan breathing space, and maybe enough time to get some backup in place.

He moved out onto the road as he neared the camp. If either of the two men happened to be looking, he was far enough away to be mistaken for one of the camp occupants. As he neared the trailers, the tantalizing aroma of bacon and pancakes drifted out to greet him. The cooks were already at work. His mouth watered, and his stomach growled. He was hungry. He hadn't eaten since that damn granola bar yesterday afternoon. Maybe he could grab a couple of slices of bread, make a bacon and egg sandwich, before he went back to his surveillance. If that wasn't possible, at least he knew where to go when the time came: the loggers were stumbling out of their trailers, all drawn as if by a magnet to the source of that smell.

The friendly babel of voices died as he entered the eating area, and in the ensuing silence, a dozen men all turned to stare at him. After a few seconds, one of them stood up and made his way toward him.

“Who the hell are you?”

Dan smiled and held out his hand.

“Dan Connor. I'm with the
RCMP
.”

The man took the proffered hand, but there was no answering smile.

“Bob Mackay. I run the camp. Haven't seen you around here before. Who are you with?”

“Victoria,” Dan answered, silently cursing the fact that he had no
ID
. “I'm working on a case with the North Island Division. You're welcome to call them.”

Bob Mackay nodded slowly, then inclined his head.

“You'd better come in. You can join us for breakfast if you like. There's plenty to go round.”

“Thanks,” Dan answered. “I could really use something. I've been up all night. But first I need to call my boss. There are a couple of guys here on the island that we need to pick up.”

“These guys some of yours?
RCMP
?”

“Nope.” Dan shook his head. “They're on the other side. They've all done some time, and are maybe headed for more. We're looking at them for a couple of pretty nasty crimes.”

“This anything to do with that kid that got murdered over at Friendly Cove?”

Dan shook his head. He had forgotten how efficiently the gossip network worked in these remote areas. “I can't answer that,” he replied. “Right now, we just need to pick them up and ask them some questions. You got a phone I could use? I need to get some guys here as quickly as possible—and then I need to get back out there.”

“Yeah, sure. Got one in the office.” Bob started toward the door, then veered over to the food counter. “Hey, Lee,” he called to someone in the kitchen. “Can you put together a bacon and egg sandwich for this guy? We'll be back to get it in five.”

“You got it.” A female voice drifted out along with the kitchen smells.

Bob led the way down to a metal shed that sat in the middle of the cleared site. “Gonna have to build a bigger office if we keep getting visitors. We had another guy here yesterday. Said he was looking for his buddy.”

Dan looked at him. “Another guy? He give you his name?”

“Yeah. Said he was Dave … something. Can't remember now. He was supposed to meet up with some other guy to go fishing, but his friend didn't show. He figured the friend might have had some kind of problem and come here.”

“You remember what he looked like?”

“Didn't really look that hard, but he had dark hair, I remember that. Not skinny but slight, you know what I mean? Looked kinda like a city guy to me. Wouldn't make it as a logger, that's for sure.” Bob paused. “You think he might be one of these guys you're looking for?”

“Maybe. You know how he got here?”

Bob shrugged. “I asked him that. He said he had a boat.”

“You see it?” Dan asked.

“No. I just figured it was down at the skid. It's the only place to tie up.”

Dan nodded. “I'm tied up there myself right now. Am I going to be okay there for a couple more hours? And my guys will come in by boat too. They'll need to tie up somewhere.”

Bob frowned. “You can stay there till the trucks start coming down, but once they start dumping, you're going to have to be someplace else. I can have the boom boats pull you out to one of the booms and tie you up there. They can bring your boat back when you're ready to go. That work?”

“Yeah, sure. And thanks. I'd better make that phone call.”

Bob pointed to the radio phone on his desk. “No problem. I'll go and get that sandwich while you make your call.” He turned to go, then turned back. “Oh, I don't know if it helps, but I do remember the name of the guy he was asking about. It was Jerry. Jerry Coffman.”

Dan was in the process of picking up the phone, but as he heard Bob's words, he carefully replaced the receiver in its holder.

“Jerry Coffman?” he asked. “You're sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Bob answered. “I guess the name stuck in my mind because I used to go to school with a guy called Jerry Hoffman. Weird, huh?” He looked at Dan. “You know this guy? Coffman?”

“Yeah,” Dan answered. “At least, I know
of
him. He's one of the ones we're looking for. He's not someone you want to mess with.”

He reached for the receiver again, then stopped as another thought crossed his mind.

“You get a call from the
RCMP
to watch out for a blue boat—probably with a couple of guys in it?”

Bob shook his head. “Nope. Call probably went to head office, and those jerk-offs never bother to tell us anything. They probably figured we don't have a wharf or a float anyway, so what are we going to see?” He paused. “You thinking that guy that was here might have been in that boat?”

Dan shrugged. It was too late to worry about it now. “Maybe. You might want to tell your guys to watch out for anyone on the road. Tell them if they see someone not to pick him up but to call it in right away.”

“They'd do that anyway, but I'll tell them. Back in a minute.”

—

Gary Markleson was still in bed. “This better be damn important,” he said in a voice still clouded with sleep.

“Found Nielson's boat,” Dan answered. “It's tied to some trees just north of the log dump in Kendrick Arm. Those two guys you had in custody were in it.”

“Who? Sleeman and Rainer?” Sleep had left Markleson's voice.

“The very same.”

“So we've got them for attempted murder?”

“Maybe. If they're smart, they could say they found the boat somewhere—at least, they could if Nielson doesn't make it. But we've got enough to pick them up—especially as one of them came to the logging camp yesterday looking for Jerry Coffman.”

“You're shitting me! So they're in this jewelry heist with Coffman?”

“Yeah, but I can't figure out where the woman fits in. You hear anything on her yet?”

“Not a trace so far. It's like she vanished into thin air. We've got the search and rescue guys out checking the beaches, but they haven't found a damn thing, and the chopper people say the heavy bush and that rain a few days ago make it almost impossible to get a heat signature, let alone find anyone. They got one hit yesterday, but it turned out to be a bear.”

“Okay, well, we'll have to figure that out, but right now I need you to send me some backup. I overheard Sleeman and Rainer talking a while ago, and they're expecting someone called Stephanson to show up, so if Coffman arrives too, we'll have four guys here, and there's only one of me.”

“Stephanson? Who the hell's Stephanson?”

“Beats me. Guess we'll find out when he gets here. Meanwhile, I've got a bunch of loggers moving around, one guy who we know has already killed someone, another two who tried to kill Nielson, and all I've got is a goddamn service revolver. I need some help here.”

“Jesus. The Tahsis boat's up in Kyuquot—went up yesterday. I can get somebody out from Gold River, but it's probably going to take a couple of hours for them to get there.”

“Well, get it started, and tell them to move it. Have them come to the log dump. I'll have the manager here tell them where to go.”

“You got a radio?”

“Just a handheld
VHF
. Call the logging camp if you need me. I'll check with them if I can.”

Dan hung up just as Bob returned carrying a sandwich in a plastic bag.

“Thanks. I'm going to head out again. Keep the traffic normal, but don't have anybody wandering around on the road on foot. There's going to be an
RCMP
boat with a couple of guys coming from Gold River in a couple of hours. I told them to wait here till I come and get them, but if you hear any shooting, tell them to get to the corner down there as fast as they can.”

“Damn. This is really weird. Kinda like a movie or something, but it's real.” Bob looked out the window as the harsh sound of a logging truck starting its engine assaulted the quiet of the morning. “Can't say I'm too comfortable about sending the guys out.”

“They'll be fine in the trucks. Just make sure they don't stop for anybody or anything.”

Dan's return to the corner was a good deal easier than his walk to the camp had been. The sun was higher, making it easier to see the roots and branches that lay in wait for the unwary, and the sandwich the cookhouse had sent over had given him some much-needed nourishment. He kept to the brush on the high side of the road, not because he was worried about being seen crossing the open area of the camp—there was plenty of normal activity happening there now anyway—but because he wanted to be able to move higher up the road if he had to without having to risk exposing his presence by crossing the lower section. He had no way of knowing whether Sleeman and Rainer had returned to the same place they had been during the night, but it seemed likely. Dan hadn't heard the sound of a boat engine, and from the little he had overheard, it was unlikely that Sleeman would trust Rainer to do anything on his own. So. Both of them, probably in much the same place as they were before, waiting to see if Jerry Coffman would appear.

A logging truck rumbled past, sending a spray of rocks and dried mud into the trees near the verge as it made the sharp turn and geared down for the climb up the mountain. The engine noise faded briefly as the transmission disengaged, then surged again as the gears meshed and the driver accelerated. Dan used the noise to clear a comfortable space for himself in the middle of a clump of low bushes and settled himself down into the hollow. Just by turning his head he had a good view of both the forest across from him and the road stretching up the mountain. With no load, the truck's ascent was quick, and the engine sound diminished as the big vehicle moved up into the trees. It was replaced with the familiar sounds of nature: birds calling, gulls screaming, insects droning. They were interspersed with the occasional clang of metal or whine of a power tool at the logging camp.