Black Tide Rising Read Free Page B

“I never thought about it.”
    â€œThat’s okay. Go on with Mary. Gene and I will take a look around.”

• THREE •
    The lazy sweep of the cove spread out in front of the two men as they crossed the walkway, a peaceful scene with no sign of movement anywhere.
    â€œYou want to take the church?” Gene asked. “I know the family over at the house pretty well. Probably better if I go talk to them.”
    Dan nodded. He was an outsider. He didn’t want to have to explain what was happening or what he was doing here. It would take too long and bring up memories and issues he didn’t want to deal with.
    â€œSounds good. I’ll call you if I find anything. Otherwise I’ll meet you down at that shed over there.” He nodded toward the beach.
    â€œIt’s not a shed, it’s a studio,” Gene said. “Sanford does his carving there. You’ll see some of it up in the church. House posts and crests mostly. It’s amazing stuff.”
    Dan nodded and the two men headed off in separate directions, Gene to the house and Dan to the church.
    Like Jens’s house, the church was empty—if you could call a space filled with exquisitely carved poles and figures empty. All the religious paraphernalia had been removed and the building was now occupied by a host of stylized and mythological creatures: a thunderbird over the door, an owl, perhaps a wolf, certainly a bear on the house posts. Killer whales arched over what might have once served as an altar and, twining everywhere, were the coils of a snake. Dan didn’t have time to take a close look, but he saw enough to know he wanted to come back and check it out. His hobby was—or had been, because he hadn’t done any lately—wood carving. The hold of his boat was full of gnarled and twisted driftwood waiting for him to pick up his tools and bring the shapes held within the wood to life. He didn’t have a rich cultural heritage to draw from, but the wood spoke to him nonetheless. He would like to be able to share his passion with someone as creative and adept as this carver obviously was.
    But that was for later. Now he had a more urgent task, and it didn’t take long for him to see that there was no sign of the woman. No sign of anyone, in fact. The place was silent and lifeless, except for the carved figures standing as sentries, and those seemed to have a life of their own.
    Dan walked back out into the sunshine and met Gene coming up the path from the house.
    â€œNo one home,” Gene said. “I think they must have gone over to Gold River. Probably won’t be back for a couple of days.” He shrugged. “The house is locked but I looked in the windows. No sign of anyone or anything there.”
    That left the studio on the beach where the figures that occupied the church had been created. Gene said the carver, Sanford, was the son of the family that lived in the house.
    They headed down toward the water, eyes scanning the ground for any signs that might show them where Margrethe had gone, but there was nothing. Like the house, the studio was locked and empty, the wide windows that formed the major part of every wall providing a clear view of a partially carved log laid out across two stumps. It was beginning to look as if Jens’s wife had simply walked out of the house and vanished.
    â€œAny ideas?” Dan asked.
    â€œNope. Doesn’t make any sense.”
    â€œMaybe she went out and slipped on the rocks. Fell into the water.”
    Gene shook his head. “She was damn near as scared of the water as she was of boats. Maybe more. Never saw her outside on the beach unless she was with Jens. Can’t figure out why they ever came here.”
    â€œDid Jens ever talk about it?”
    â€œJens? Hell no. Jens isn’t much of a talker. He’s kind of like me—spent most of his life on the lights, but in his case they were all close to the city.