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 qu
estion, 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.
FIFTEEN
Jenn set aside time the following day for wind sprints, but as things turned out, Annie had other plans for them both. It was time to arrange the whole diving enterprise, she announced. So they set out for Drake’s Landing.
This was at the bottom of Wharf Street in the village of Langley, across from the weather-worn wrecks of Langley’s old piers, dangerous and long unused. There was a sheltered marina in this location, where boats were docked along barnacle-encrusted slips. Drake’s Landing was tucked into the base of a bluff at the far side of the marina’s parking lot. A sign in front of it creaked from a newly painted post in the frigid wind. It read DRAKES’ LANDING CHANDLERY and across the new front window of the building a GRAND OPENING banner flopped unevenly.
The place was dark inside. Jenn remarked on this and was secretly grateful. She didn’t like the idea of learning to scuba dive in the middle of winter anyway. Beyond that, she had to get to her soccer workouts if she was going to have a chance at all during the tryouts for the All Island team. So if the chandlery was closed, it was fine by her, as long as they could get home before dark.
“Damn,” Annie murmured, gazing at the clearly uninhabited building. “He said he’d be here.”
“Who?”
“Chad. Him. The guy. I told him I’d bring you by this afternoon and he said—”
Someone knocked on the driver’s window and Annie and Jenn turned. They drew in breath simultaneously. If this was Chad, Jenn thought, oh hot mama. He looked like a sculpture. He was chiseled from chin to lips to nose to forehead. His eyes were a friendly brown and his skin was lightly flushed from the wind.
“Annie?” he called out through the closed window. When she nodded, he said, “Sorry. I was on the boat. Come on in,” and he hustled up to the chandlery’s door, which he unlocked.
“Wow,” Annie said in a hushed voice as they followed him. “What a looker. Well, I’ve got a partner back home, so he’s all yours, Jenn.”
Jenn snorted. “As if.”
Annie stopped her with a hand on her arm. She frowned. “Hey. You’re a beauty. Don’t forget it,” she said.
Inside the chandlery, Chad was emerging from his parka, knitted cap, and gloves like someone out of a film. He had short brown hair and the well-defined shoulders and chest of a swimmer. He was slim at the hips and he walked with his hips. When he smiled, he flashed a mouth full of perfect white teeth. No doubt he knew he was the Complete Package, Jenn thought. What the hell was he doing in Langley?
“So,” he said, placing himself behind the counter and getting a record book of some sort from a shelf. “You ready to go underwater?” he asked Jenn.
“How cold is it, exactly?”
He waved off Jenn’s concern. “Don’t worry about that part. We’re starting out in a pool. We won’t do ‘real’ water till your final lesson in the marina and then the check-out dive in the passage. And for those dives, you’ll be wearing a dry suit, so the cold won’t bother you.” He shot her a grin. “At least not much.” And then to Annie, “You done much cold water diving?”
She shook her head. “None of that in Florida.”
“Well, I’ll be there to rescue you both from hypothermia. Come on back here, let me show you the stuff we’re going to be using. We c’n get Jenn fitted up with what she needs.”
He took them into a supply room where scuba equipment was neatly arranged along one wall. The harbor commission had put some serious money into the place, Jenn thought as she looked around. While Chad and Annie chatted about the need for a dry suit for Annie to use in the open water, Jenn wandered among the wet suits and dry suits, the tanks, the weight belts, and all the other items she was going to have to learn about. Seeing it all, she realized that she lacked enthusiasm for the whole enterprise. She’d never liked enclosed spaces, and there was something about having to breathe from a tank and look through a mask that made her feel scuba wasn’t a route that would earn her a dime, no matter what Annie said. But she’d said she’d go for it, so she’d go for it. She didn’t think she was going to enjoy it much, though.
Chad suggested they take a look at his boat once he’d fitted Jenn with what she was going to need. That way, she’d see how easy it was going to be to get from the boat into the water, which might make the open-water dive look less threatening to her at the moment.
“I’m not threatened,” Jenn said defensively.
“Sure you’re not,” Chad said with good cheer. “Let’s take a look at the boat anyway.”
She scowled as he headed out of the chandlery. He was treating her like a kid. What was he, anyway, nineteen years old? Maybe twenty, but no older than that.
Annie raised her eyebrows and jerked her head toward Chad’s departing back. She murmured, “Nice butt, too,” and Jenn had to smile. She followed Annie out of the door.
• • •
CHAD’S BOAT WAS a thirty-footer, an ancient thing that he and his dad had renovated from bow to stern. Below, every inch had been made useful with a berth, a head, a galley, and a table. Above this a small cabin protected the boat’s occupants from weather while they were on the water. Chad said he’d take them out in advance of the checkout dive if they wanted to do that. They’d see then that it was a sturdy craft, he told them, so they’d have nothing to worry about. It was also big enough to live on, he told them, which was what he was doing in Langley’s harbor. Now . . . did they want to return to the chandlery and fill out the rest of the paperwork? They did.
Afterward, with all of the details taken care of, Chad shook hands with Annie, said it was great to meet her, told her where and when the first lesson would take place, and walked with them to the chandlery door. When Jenn off
ered her hand as well, he put his arm around her shoulders instead. He said, “Okay, dive buddy. We’ll fast-track you to certification so you’ll be all ready. See you soon.” Then he ruffled her hair, which made her want to punch his lights.
When they left, Jenn said, “I don’t like being treated like a five-year-old.”
“Don’t blame you,” Annie told her. “Give him time.”
“For what?”
Annie shot her a look. “Guess, why don’t you? I’m too old for him, so the door’s wide open. You’ll be in the pool, he’ll be in the pool.” Annie clasped her hands beneath her chin and batted her eyelashes. “‘I was scared at first but I’m not scared now. Oh Chad, Chad, you’re such a good teacher.’”
Jenn guffawed. “Right,” she said.
“You think he wouldn’t go for that?” Annie asked. “Stick with me. I’ll teach you about men.”
Jenn said, “Talking about men . . .” and she pointed at the dock. Ivar Thorndyke was coming along it, carrying a bucket that Jenn well recognized from the times she’d loaded it with bait from her dad. Ivar caught sight of them as he strode to his truck. He set the bucket in the bed and came across to them where they stood at the end of the walk that led to the chandlery’s front door.
He said to Annie, “Renting a boat for a look-see around the passage?”
“Jenn’s going to be my underwater assistant,” was what Annie told him. “We’re getting ready for dive lessons.”
Ivar eyed them both. Jenn could tell his suspicions had just had a match lit under them. “What’re you diving for?” he asked sharply.
Annie didn’t answer at first, like someone wanting someone else to have a chance to evaluate his tone of voice. After a moment, she said evenly, “You seem sort of concerned, Mr. Thorndyke. C’n you tell me why?”