Saratoga Woods 02 The Edge of the Water (10 page)

“Oh,” she said. There didn’t seem to be a reason to doubt him. His whispers were saying nothing different from his words.

He went on with a smile. “Course, I could be lying my head off, couldn’t I? There could be a meth lab over there in the barn. Matter of fact, expanding the ol’ business might not be a bad idea. You know anything about meth? Now I could definitely use an assistant if I get into that.”

“You’re making fun,” she said.

“You sure of that?”

“Yeah. Pretty much. I sort of think you joke a lot.”

“Do you now, Becca King.”

“I do.”

He shot her a smile.
Serious like her . . . Steph would’ve . . . but then she always did, didn’t she . . .
made Becca wonder who Steph was and why Ivar thought about her instead of Sharla. But she didn’t say anything other than, “I could learn to take care of them,” with a nod at his plants.

“They don’t need taking care of,” he told her. “There’s a reason it’s called weed and I expect you c’n figure it out.”

“You mean weeds don’t need taken care of.”

“Smart,” he said, tapping his index finger to his baseball cap. “I like that in an attractive woman.”

Diana came into the chicken coop as Ivar was saying this last bit. She said, “I thought I’d find you in here. What’re you two up to?”

“Miss Becca King here is looking for work. She’s rejected pot growing out of hand.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“I thought I could maybe be his assistant,” Becca said. “When he does his handyman stuff.”

Diana looked around the chicken coop and frowned. She said, “This place is chaos, Ivar. Maybe she can organize it for you. Someone needs to. How do you find anything?”

“Hunt, peck, throw, grunt, and curse,” he said.

“That doesn’t seem very time effective.”

“You got a point.”

“I could organize this place,” Becca told him earnestly. “I could do it easy as anything. I wouldn’t throw anything away, either. Not without asking you, I mean.”

Ivar Thorndyke cast a fond look in her direction. He shook his head, but in a way that told Becca he was giving in. He said, “Now that’s something I might be able to use you for, Becca King.”

“When?” she asked. “Soon? Now?”

Diana said to him, “She’s got a haircut she needs to keep up with.”

“And other things,” Becca added. She thought of what money could do for her situation. She might even have enough to get out of the tree house and rent a real room somewhere.

Ivar waved them off, a gesture of defeat that really meant acceptance of their plans. “So you won’t throw away a thing, right?” he said to her.

“Absolutely swear. Not without asking you. When d’you want me to start?”

Langley Marina

J
enn wanted to do an hour of wind sprints and forty-five minutes of dribbling practice. The tryouts for the All Island Girls Soccer team were coming up faster and faster, and she didn’t really need anything more to distract her. So when Squat Cooper asked her if she had time to go over their Western Civ report so that he could show her what he’d come up with, she wanted to say no way. But she knew how lucky she was to have Squat for a partner, so she said yes instead, which ended up involving a trip to his house at the edge of the sand on Useless Bay.

The place was a palace. Squat’s mom had scored it as part of a divorce settlement from his dad. When Mr. Cooper had done the evil deed with his executive assistant, the fool had decided to do it right in the marital bed. That had cost him the massive stone house, a pile of money each month, and a new Range Rover every five years.

She and Squat took their stuff upstairs. Somewhere a television was blasting, but where they sat the sound was muted. This was a study area at the far end of the house. It had two computer stations, bookshelves, two desks, a leather sofa, coffee table, and a flat-screen TV. It also had a bar with a glass-fronted minifridge. To Jenn, it was like a superdeluxe hotel. To Squat, it was business as usual.

He got out his iPad. He was handling the alternatives to conquest on the part of the European explorers who supposedly had stumbled upon the primitive culture that Jenn was inventing. His idea was to create visual aids to go along with their presentation. He wasn’t a 4.0 student for nothing.

“I pretty much got the alternatives to conquest figured out,” he told her.

“Give me the details, Studboy,” she replied.

He shot her a look. “You gotta control your craving for me if we’re gonna get this done. I know how desperate you are for my bod, but we got work to do.”

“My knuckles are white,” she said. “Continue.”

He brought the first of his work onto the screen, saying, “First thing I figure is we got to decide what
makes
the Europeans want an alternative to killing, capturing, pillaging, raping, enslaving, and whatever-ing, know what I mean? The rest of the class’s going to just list alternatives. But if we delve into the European culture and find something that makes them
want
to be different, we got Mr. Keith’s attention.”

Squat had her attention, too. Damn, he was so
totally
smart. Jenn scooted over next to him and put a friendly arm around his shoulders. “Lemme see,” she said and she began to read.

It was vintage Squat. It was good beyond good. Jenn read it, squeezed his shoulders, and spontaneously kissed him on the cheek. Then she turned his head to her and planted one on his mouth for good measure. “Freaking gen-i-us,” she announced. “Instant A and our name in lights. I want tongue, Studboy. Let’s celebrate.”

Squat started to say something but someone else spoke instead.

“Crap, you must be desperate, bro.” Squat’s older brother Dylan had come into the room. His jeans were so baggy that he had to hold them up as he attempted to saunter in the direction of the sofa. Over the pants, he had a sweatshirt on that looked filthy. Jenn suspected the last person to wear it had been Sasquatch. On his feet were unlaced tennis shoes. On his face was a smirk. “Tryin’ to do it with a lesbo, huh?” Dylan asked nonchalantly as he dropped onto the sofa.

“Hey! Jenn’s not—”

“A lot you know.” Dylan was sitting next to Squat, but he leaned forward and gave Jenn a look. “Lemme touch your tit,” he told her. When her lip curled in response, his reaction was, “See, bro? She don’t want nothing from me, she ain’t going to want nothing from you.”

“I think you might have an overinflated idea of your desirability,” was Squat’s reply.

Jenn guffawed. Dylan’s face flamed. “You,” he said to his brother, “better watch yourself.”

“And you better go play with yourself. That’s about all you’re going to get.”

“While you’re getting
her
? Ohhh, I’m so jealous.”

Dylan rose and slouched from the room. He managed a massive fart in the doorway just in case they might forget he’d been with them.

“Sorry,” Squat said when he was gone. “The scum also rises. He may evolve from name-calling some year, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

“Whatever,” she said. “With you for a brother, being a creep’s the only thing he’s got.”

Squat thought about this one. “Should I say thanks to that?” he asked her.

“No need to say thanks to the truth. Perfect gentleman, A student, Boy Scout, all-around good guy? Everyone knows it. Hey. How ’bout getting naked?”

He went beet red.

• • •

IT WAS JUST
about dinnertime when Jenn got back to Possession Point, courtesy of Mrs. Cooper’s Range Rover, which she was reluctant to drive the length of the cratered lane that led up to the McDaniels house. It was dark as pitch, but dim lights shone in the distance from the bait shack, so Mrs. Cooper said, “D’you mind . . . ?” with a look that told Jenn she didn’t wish to risk her vehicle’s suspension. Jenn didn’t bother to tell her that a Range Rover was equal to whatever the lane might wish to dish out. Instead, she said, “No problem. Thanks.” And with a “Later, Studboy,” to Squat, she was out of the car.

Annie Taylor came out of the trailer as Jenn headed by. At first Jenn thought the young woman had been waiting for her, especially since she said, “Hey, Jenn, come over when you can, okay?” But then Annie went to the woodpile and stocked up on logs. Jenn said sure, as soon as she saw what was laid out for dinner. Since the island taxi wasn’t in its usual spot, Jenn knew she was expected to rustle up something for the boys and her dad in her mother’s absence.

Beef and vegetable soup, seriously light on the beef. Her mom had already made it and it just needed reheating. Fine. She could do it once she went to see why Annie wanted to see her. More cleaning of the trailer, probably. They’d been working on it when they each had free time. It was now livable, but Jenn still thought Annie was being ripped off when it came to rent.

As it turned out, though, when she went back over to Annie’s, what she discovered was that Annie had plans, and these plans had nothing to do with the trailer. They did, however, have everything to do with Nera. Annie’s mind was one track when it came to that seal. And the track’s destination had to be called Getting Her Hands on Nera. Nothing else would do.

Annie was sitting at her laptop, and when Jenn came in, she said, “Great. There you are,” and she accessed some Web site. She also said, “Have a cookie. Peanut butter.”

“You baked cookies?”

“Hardly. I can almost boil water. I got ’em in Langley.” She gestured aimlessly in the direction of the kitchen, such as it was. On the counter a white bag was half crumpled open. Inside were the cookies. Bakery cookies. Food of the gods.

Jenn took one, savored her first bite, and went to join Annie, who said, “What d’you weigh?”

“Why?”

“I need the info. It’s for this site.”

“What is it?”

“Just tell me.” And when Jenn told her, she asked her height, whether she wore contacts, whether she could swim. When she’d logged everything into the site she was on, she said, “I’ve found exactly what we need.”

“For what?”

“For getting close to Nera.”

“What’s the
deal
with that seal? And what’s getting close to her going to prove? And how’re we supposed to get close to her?”

“Scuba,” Annie said. “We’re going to dive together.”

“In the middle of the frigging winter? We’ll freeze to death.”

“Not in dry suits we won’t,” Annie said airily. “I’m already certified. Well, you more or less have to be in my line of work. And listen, Jenn, this is something you can do later to make money. You said you need money, right?”

“Uh . . . How do I make money with that? Give underwater tours?”

“You live on an island. There’re boats everywhere. People need their hulls scraped and their whatevers dealt with.” Annie waved a hand airily. “You know what I mean. They lose anchors and crab pots and God knows what else. There’s got to be a ton of business.”

Not to mention a ton of equipment to buy, Jenn thought, which she couldn’t afford and didn’t want to buy anyway. She’d made a bit from Annie for helping out with the trailer’s livability problem, but those bucks were meant to pay for membership on the All Island Girls Soccer team
if
she made the team. Which reminded her that now it was too dark outside to do windsprints or to dribble. She
had
to get her butt in gear.

Annie patted the banquette where she was sitting. She said, “Park it, Beauty,” and Jenn smiled in spite of herself and joined the young woman. “Here’s how it’ll work,” Annie said happily. “Far as I’m concerned, learning to dive’ll be part of your job, so I’ll spring for the lessons and we can rent whatever you need.”

“Like rent it where?”

“Like rent it here.”

Annie directed her to look at the Web site, which was for a new island business. It was a chandlery and dive shop and it was operated by someone called Chad Pederson who’d been hired by the harbor commission. The harbor commission, Annie told her, wanted someone run the shop and to offer scuba, kayaking, and snorkeling lessons. Chad Pederson was the someone.

“It’s at a place called Drake’s Landing,” Annie told her. “You know where that is?”

“In Langley Marina,” Jenn replied, looking at the picture of delighted snorkelers, happy kayakers, and thrilled-to-their-fins scuba divers. “Why don’t you just ask him to dive with you?”

“Who?”

“That guy. The lesson guy. Chad Pederson.”

“Because I want you,” Annie said. “We’re working together, aren’t we?”

Jenn was oddly pleased with the question. “Yeah,” she said. “Sure.”

Annie linked her arm with Jenn’s then, and she pulled her closer to gaze at the laptop’s screen together. “So one for all and all for one, I say. Let’s get to know that seal.”

• • •

HOW TO FIND
her was the real question, but Annie was on top of that as well. Thanks to the seal spotters, every movement Nera made was photographed, documented, telephone-treed about, and otherwise recorded for posterity. The group had a Web site that traced the animal’s movements. The last sighting had been that very afternoon. She was swimming around Point Partridge Lighthouse.

“That’s near Coupeville,” Jenn said and added “midway on the island,” when she realized Coupeville didn’t mean anything to someone who’d come to Whidbey from Florida. “She’s heading south, just like Ivar said at the meeting.”

“Perfect,” Annie said. “So we’ll get you certified by this Chad Pederson guy, and by the time she’s here, we’re on her like leprosy.”

Jenn’s eyes widened. “Hey, I dunno if this is—”

“I was joking!” Annie gave her arm a squeeze. “God, I wouldn’t hurt that seal.”

“Then what
would
you do?” Jenn asked her seriously. “’Cause . . .” She shook her head. There was something about this plan that smelled funny. She said, “I don’t know, Annie.”

Annie hopped to her feet. She went to one of the many boxes she had stacked around the room and she brought out something that looked like a small, bright X-Acto knife. She said, “I’ll take a scraping from her. That’s all, Jenn. The scraping will get me to her DNA. No way on earth is she going to get hurt.”

“How’re you getting close enough for a scraping?”

“Your dad’s bait pool,” Annie said. “I’ll have bait for her—I’ll buy it from your dad—and we’ll contain her. Just for maybe thirty minutes or so. Probably less. I’ll offer her bait and build her trust and when she comes close, that’s all I’ll need. Jenn, she won’t even feel it. And
if
she feels it, it won’t feel different than scraping a rock, which she has to have done in the past. She’s a seal. She swims around rocks all the time. So are you in? Come on. I
want
you with me on this.”

The light from behind her shone on Annie’s hair. The light from in front of her shone on her skin. She had a smile that said “Best friends, Jenn?” as clear as anything. Jenn was still reluctant, but she told herself it was because of scuba and not because of Annie. Okay, she told Annie. She was with her on this.