It had been clear and sunny, a good morning for crossing the Top of the World Highway. As they had started down into Alaska, having crossed the border at Boundary, he had been able to see for miles to the distant purple, blue, and white of mountain ranges to the west. It was a favorite part of the trip, so he had stopped twice at viewpoints, once on the Canadian side, once on the Alaskan.
Just after noon he had cruised into Tok, where he had pulled in to fill the tank with gas, and a thermos with coffee, and to let Tank out of the truck again for a rest stop. From there he had taken the Tok Cutoff south, stopping an hour later at a wide spot in the road where he augmented his lunch with scenery:
Mount Sanford rising in splendid 16,237-foot isolation from the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. Another hour’s drive had brought them to Glennallen at four o’clock. He felt almost home as he drove out on the Glenn Highway, which had taken him directly to Palmer and the turnoff to Wasilla.
And home they were not long after six, having made good time and stopped for groceries, Alex knowing that, while he could feed Tank easily enough, with Jessie gone he would have to cook his own dinner-for-one. If he had not had Tank along, he might have eaten out, but the dog had been in the truck all day and he didn’t want to leave him waiting in front of some restaurant.
Going up the long driveway from Knik Road, he saw there was a light in Jessie’s new log house. The few dogs she had kept in her kennel, not yet being totally used to Jensen’s truck again, had begun to bark, but quieted when he let Tank out. They had clearly been fed and cared for by Billy Steward while he was gone, so he figured correctly that the boy had left the light on for him in the house. Taking his travel bag and the single sack of groceries, he went up the stairs and unlocked the door, Tank trotting along behind.
It was immediately apparent from the delicious smell that wafted into his nose that there would be no need to cook after all. A peek into the oven revealed a tempting casserole keeping warm, and a note propped against a covered bowl of salad on the table told him he had Billy’s mother to thank.
“Bless her generous heart,” he said, looking down at Tank who, sitting expectantly nearby, cocked his head and gave friend Alex a doggy grin.
“Okay, your dinner’s coming up.”
There was even a fire carefully banked in the cast-iron stove, to which he added a log or two until it was crackling a cheerful welcome. Then he fed Tank, who afterward wandered over to curl up on the rag rug in front of it, hoping he wouldn’t be put out just yet. Glad to be home, Alex got himself a Killian’s and let dinner wait a bit while he drank it. Leaving Tank snoozing where he was, he filled a plate with noodle stroganoff and salad, put some Toby Keith on the DVD player for company, and settled down for his meal.
When the phone rang just after nine, Alex had put Tank back on his tether in the dog yard and was half asleep on the sofa in front of the television, where he had settled in hopes of staying awake until Jessie called, as promised.
“Hey,” she said in answer to his hello. “You two made it home okay then.”
“In good time and fine fettle. It was warm, sunny—a great drive. I could see almost to Magadan from the Top of the World this morning and Mount Sanford was cloudless.”
“Well, almost to Siberia’s a bit of an exaggeration, but I know what you mean. How’s Tank?”
“He’s fine. Just put him out in the yard for the night. How’s the island?”
“You spoil him rotten. The island’s terrific. We had a sunny day too, and a smooth ride from Petersburg.
Whales!
We saw whales, Alex.”
He could hear her delight at the sighting.
“Bet you see a lot more.”
“That’s what Jim said. Here on the island they have a resident sea lion and an eagle with a baby just learning to fly.” She paused, and then went on. “Everyone says hello and—I wish you were here. I miss you.”
It was worth the long trip from Canada just to hear her say it.
“I miss you too. This house is awfully empty without you in it. Oh—Billy’s mom sent over a casserole, so I didn’t have to cook.”
“Ah, so that’s why you miss me? Cooking!” she teased.
“Not tonight! But there are a few other things I miss you for.”
There was a gentle giggle from Jessie before she said, “Save that thought. I’ll be home Sunday, as planned.”
“Terrific. Now, tell me about this woman you met in Petersburg, who stayed at the hotel with you.”
Jessie told him everything she had told Jim, plus a few speculations of her own, and, like Jim, there was a few seconds’ pause from Alex when she finished.
“And you think there’s really some guy stalking her?”
“Well—I haven’t seen him, but she’s frightened of someone.”
Jensen’s law enforcement persona kicked in with his next comment. “If this guy exists, you should consider that he might figure you’re in his way.”
“How would he ever find us out here?”
“Don’t people in Petersburg know where you were headed? The hotel people, maybe—a few others? Small towns tend to share information and he might ask the right—well, the wrong person—mightn’t he?”
Jessie was quiet for a long breath of consideration before answering.
“It’s possible, I guess, but don’t you think that’s a stretch?”
“Depends on how determined he is. You should have taken the problem to the Petersburg police.”
“I suggested that. Karen refused.”
“Well, I think you’d better keep a sharp lookout and take care. Tell Jim I said so, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And call me often, so I know you’re safe? Or I’ll call you.”
“Yes, I will. I have to take the cell phone outside, away from the lighthouse, to get a signal. I’m outside now. So if you try and can’t reach me, don’t worry. I’m probably just inside somewhere.”
“I’ll remember that, but keep it with you, okay?”
“Sure. If I can’t reach you in the evening, I’ll try you at work during the day.”
They talked for a few more minutes, but after she hung up Jessie stood in the dark, looking out over the water to the west of the helipad, where she had gone to make the call. It was very still and though the sea was calm, she could hear the gentle sloshing of small waves on the rocks below. Far away across the sound the lights of a boat moved steadily southwest, probably headed for Petersburg at this late hour. A breeze crept in to rustle the brush under the helipad just enough to hear until it was covered by a burst of laughter that drifted out from the group still gathered around the table in the lighthouse.
The clouds had lifted and seemed to be breaking up, for stars now gleamed through several large patches. Something splashed in the water a good distance from the north point, its identity hidden in the dark. Did whales feed at night? Jessie wondered. Or did they sleep, perhaps floating head down, suspended in watery space, rising now and then to the surface to breathe, liquid resistance to their huge weight allowing them to fall slowly back to rest in the deep? It was an agreeable, enchanting sort of thought. Astronauts who slept weightlessly suspended in space must have some idea how whales feel.
She yawned at the idea of sleep, more tired than she had realized and ready to find a bed of her own soon. It would be nice, when she was back home on Sunday night, to curl up next to Alex in her big brass bed, tell him all about her week’s adventures, and hear about his.
“Jessie?” Laurie called from the door of the lighthouse.
“Here.”
Her hostess came across and up to join her on the helipad.
“It’s a great night, isn’t it?”
“Hm-m,” Jessie agreed.
“Looks like we might have a sunny day tomorrow, from the weather report. The guys can get started on the boathouse roof. That’ll make Jim happy. He worried about it all last winter.”
“I’m glad you invited me,” Jessie told Laurie. “I’ve never been on an island this small in the middle of so much water. It’s a fine place to be—sort of magical and otherworldly—peaceful.”
“It is, isn’t it? We’re glad you could come. Too bad Alex had to work.”
“He was disappointed, but—maybe another time. He got home from Dawson tonight and said to tell you all hello.” Then, recalling Laurie’s invitation by phone, “You had something you wanted to talk to him about, didn’t you?”
There was a long moment of thoughtful silence and Laurie dropped her head to stare at the wooden pad beneath her feet. She crossed her arms, hugging herself, and when she raised her face Jessie was close enough to see that she was frowning.
“Yes,” she said, “there was, but . . . oh, it’s probably silly and just our—well, mostly
my
—imagination. But several times since we got the place we’ve had the feeling that someone else had been here when we weren’t—things a little out of place, a door unlocked—and we always lock up before leaving—the coffeepot used and left unwashed—just small stuff. You know—things you could be mistaken about. So the first time or two we told ourselves that’s what it was. But last time we found a wrench on the table that Jim knew he’d put away downstairs.”
“Anything missing?”
Laurie shook her head, still frowning. “Not that we could tell.”
“Jim said the Coast Guard comes to maintain the light. Could it be them?”
“Two guys came by last month when we were here for a week and we asked, but they said not and I believe them. They were concerned that someone might mess with the light, or the solar panel. Said they’d keep a lookout, but they’re here less often than we are. I thought Alex might have some suggestions if he came.”
“He might anyway. I’ll ask him the next time we talk.”
“Thanks, Jessie. It’s probably not that important, but I hate the invaded feeling. It makes me uneasy all the time I’m here—and worried when I’m not. Kind of spoils the magic, you know.”
“It could be someone local who just likes lighthouses and can’t resist. This place could be a temptation for almost anyone passing.”
“We thought about that, and someone local makes sense because a tourist on the way up or down the passage wouldn’t come back several times, would they?”
“Let me see what Alex thinks.”
“I’d appreciate that—a lot.”
They stood together for a few more quiet moments, absorbing the gifts of the night from that particular island in the middle of such a wide piece of ocean. Then, in unspoken agreement, they went back to join the others in finding places for sleeping.
Though much was held in promise in terms of satisfying restoration work and the relaxation of a good company of friends, they hadn’t a notion just how decidedly things could—and would—change in the next few hours.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
JESSIE WAS INTERESTED IN THE WAY FIVE FINGER LIGHTHOUSE stood high above the sea, its foundation fastened securely onto the living stone that formed the island. According to the proud new owners, a station had been established there in 1902, but it was a wooden building that burned and was replaced in 1935 with the current concrete structure. Though the lighthouse was built to last and was solid, it was, after all, seventy years old, had been exposed for decades to the destructive forces of waves and weather in a broad expanse of saltwater, and required constant maintenance, which had been minimal since it was automated and lost its keepers. So there was much to do for the renovation crew that had gathered to effect what repairs were possible in a week’s time.
A quick tour before dinner had shown Jessie that the lighthouse was quite simple in layout. Coming in the door from the north one walked immediately into the large kitchen, where a hallway branched off to the right and passed a bathroom on its way to two small bedrooms in the northwest corner of the square building. If one went on through the kitchen one arrived in the common room, which took up the whole of the southeast corner. What had been a small radio room opened from it to the right and, beyond that, another hallway branched off, passed a fourth small bedroom that was now used for storage, and wound up in the largest bedroom in the rear southwest corner.
In the center of the one-story building, through a door in the second hallway, a stairway rose up in short flights and landings around the square walls all the way to a room near the top of the sixty-eight-foot tower. At that point the stairway ended and a visitor must climb a metal set of circular steps with a brass rail; the steps led up into the round glass cupola that allowed the high-powered light to shine out into the darkness every night. From there, the wide expanse of Frederick Sound was spread out below, with the two nearest islands, the Brothers, almost directly west.
Opposite the bathroom in the hallway that led from the kitchen to the small bedrooms, a door opened onto a flight of stairs leading down to a large lower room. There, wide doors opened out onto the platform below and alongside the building to the east. This large room housed not only the huge generator to which Curt had earlier referred and a control console full of dials and switches, but also had storage for everything from all kinds of tools and materials necessary to the maintenance of the lighthouse, water and propane tanks, fire extinguishers, carts, ladders, to a washing machine and dryer, even a small skiff. In a couple of narrow annex rooms just off this lower room was shelving for fresh vegetables and beverages to be kept cool—including Jim’s rather extensive wine collection. Almost anything necessary to living on the island was kept there.