some kind of misconduct?
Aubrey replayed the entire series of events over and over again in her mind. She reassured herself once again that she hadn’t done anything wrong. Had she? Maybe she should have radioed that she was fine and didn’t need assistance. But time was always a factor... These were the kinds of details she could stew about for days. She wanted to quiz Danny about what they’d asked her, but felt it would be wrong somehow.
Besides, she told herself, not only was she a big girl, she was good at her job. She would wait it out, with confidence, until she knew for sure what this was all about.
Instead she focused on Danny and what she could do for her.
* * *
“I HAVE AN IDEA,” Gale said from the passenger seat of the pickup as Eli drove back toward the base.
“What’s that?” Eli asked.
“It occurred to me earlier while we were talking to Alex. It made me think about what I’d do if we were trying to solve this case in Falls Terrace. I know you haven’t lived here, or even been here, in a long time, but you still have a lot of connections in the community.”
“Yeah.” Eli was already realizing how true that was. Twelve years didn’t seem that long now that he was back.
“All this Christmas stuff going on? This could help us solve this thing—getting out there and meeting people and socializing. A town this size, with this close-knit feel? People talk. There’s not much that is really and truly secret. Folks might not even know they are sitting on important information because they only have one piece of the puzzle. But if we gather some of these pieces, make some connections, we might get somewhere.”
He had a point. Eli guided the pickup into a space in the air station’s lot.
“Which reminds me.” Gale pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I got a text from Yeats.” Yeats was their contact at the DEA, keeping them informed about news on the case from California. He slid a finger across the display as he explained, “The crates have been sent to the lab for examination.”
For the last year a potent strain of heroin had been flooding the West Coast. Early indications had the DEA believing the drugs were being shipped up from the south. As a result, they’d focused most of their resources there even as the drugs continued to flow. He and Gale had been stationed in San Diego when a tip had come in to the DEA that Coast Guard personnel may be involved. Because of a connection Eli had in the DEA, he and Gale had been consulted about the case.
The DEA had seized a shipment of drugs from a boat off the coast of San Diego. Upon reviewing the evidence, it had been the wooden crates, not the drugs, that had got Eli thinking. They had been constructed from various woods, including maple and larch. Eli knew that larch was a wood that could only have come from much farther north where maple was also very abundant. He had speculated that the drugs were being smuggled into the Pacific Northwest, where they were being broken down into smaller units then shipped out again to lower level dealers in these locally constructed, and hopefully traceable, crates.
It was just speculation on his part, but soon after that, Eli had been at a Coast Guard luncheon where he’d mentioned the theory to Admiral Schaefer. The admiral had seized upon the notion and, a few short weeks later, Eli and Gale had been added to the task force and transferred to Astoria.
The admiral’s blessing and enthusiasm had been welcome, the assignment essentially like a promotion for him and Gale. For Eli, the importance of solving the case had increased exponentially. Not only did he want to solve the case for his own career, he didn’t want to let the admiral down. Failure, in any form, was Eli’s worst nightmare. Nothing, and no one, was going to stand in his career path the way it had his father’s.
“You have a history here, right? Plus, your friendship with Alex and Aubrey. Can you get us involved in some of this community stuff?”
“Yeah, probably,” he said with much more confidence than he felt. He had no idea how things stood between him and Aubrey.
Gale reached into the backseat and grabbed his notebook. He pulled a sheet of paper from inside and began to read in an overly enthusiastic tone. “‘It’s okay to be crabby this Christmas! At Pacific Cove’s crab races and crab feed you can be a crab and eat one, too’ et cetera and blah, blah, blah.”
“Crab races?”
“Yes. I just happened to pick up the Crazy About a Coast Christmas schedule of events. The first item listed is the crab races and crab feed this Friday night. At a place called The Shoals Hotel. Attending doesn’t sound like that much of a hardship. There’s an all-you-can-eat crab feed and buffet. But, if we could volunteer? Mingle with the folks? That would be even better.”
Eli grinned. “This actually isn’t a bad plan. I’ll see what I can do.”
“OKAY, GUYS, THAT’S it for today. Great job, my little minnows! Don’t forget to practice your crunches and push-ups at home. Remember what we say?” A chorus of little voices joined hers. “Strong on land means strong in the sea.”
“Awesome! That’s right. You guys are smart as well as super swimmers.”
The fitness standards for a rescue swimmer were some of the most stringent in all of military service. Regulations required that they pass a monthly fitness test in order to remain on duty. The training on base, while intense, wasn’t enough. So, on her off days, she worked out. A day rarely went by when she didn’t get into the water and she liked to do it here at “her” pool, Pacific Cove’s community pool. And two or three times a week when she wasn’t on duty, she taught swimming lessons.
Six little bodies scrambled out of the pool. This group had made a ton of progress in the last few weeks. This fueled her resolve, even as it killed her that the pool she’d literally grown up in, and that she loved with all of her heart, was crumbling around her. She refused to accept what others were calling inevitable.
“Is anyone sticking around to practice today?” Aubrey had a policy that the kids could stay after class for fifteen minutes and practice what they’d learned in their lesson that day. They could practice anything, really, as long as they were in the water.
Two hands shot up into the air. One belonged to George, a shy little guy with huge brown eyes and a sweet smile featuring one front tooth. The other hand belonged to Eleanor, a tiny girl with blond pigtails and a bright purple swimsuit. Eleanor was one of her all-time favorite students, a foster child who’d been bounced around from relative to foster home her entire short life. For now, she’d found a home with stable parents who were motivated to bring her to swim lessons.
She qualified for free lessons through a program Aubrey had started for youth who couldn’t afford them otherwise. And Aubrey could see what swimming did for Eleanor because it was the same miraculous, confidence-building phenomenon she’d experienced as a child.
“Excellent, George and Eleanor. I’ll see the rest of you yahoos on Thursday?” With waves and goodbyes, the remaining crew headed toward the locker rooms.
“Do you guys want to jump off the diving board?”
“I do! I do!” This from Eleanor.
Ever cautious, George said, “I think I’ll practice treading water some more first.”
“Sounds good, buddy. You can never be too good at treading water.” Aubrey knew this was his way of gathering courage. She wouldn’t push him.
He climbed back into the pool while Eleanor hustled over to the diving board.
“Whenever you’re ready, El,” Aubrey called to the little girl.
She took a few steps, bounced on the board, sailed through the air and splashed into the water with all the force her forty-two pounds of weight could manage. She surfaced and began to swim toward the edge exactly as she’d been