Page 71 of Wild Wolf
JD and I rummaged through it.
No werewolf suit.
We both grimaced and mumbled a few obscenities.
This whole thing was a diversion to throw us off his tail. He knew he was being watched, and he knew we’d take the bait. Maybe Oren wasn't as dumb as we thought he was.
I continued to drip dry on the dock for a minute, then pulled on my shirt, socks, and shoes.
A few denizens of the marina looked at us like we were crazy.
JD and I walked back to the parking lot and climbed into the Porsche.
The sheriff called. I put it on speaker. "The Coast Guard spotted Carolyn's boat in the Gulf. They're sending a cutter to do a rescue. We're going to head out in Tango One and meet them. They're going to transfer custody once they've recovered her. I'm assuming you want in on this. It's your case, after all.”
I looked at Jack. It would be cutting it close.
He nodded.
"Absolutely," I said.
"Meet me at the station.”
“On our way.”
JD cranked up the engine, dropped the Porsche into gear, and sped out of the lot. We zipped to the station, hopped out, and raced to the helipad. The rotors spun up, stirring up a small tornado. We climbed on board with the sheriff and a paramedic, donned headsets, and strapped in.
The engine whined, and the rotors blurred overhead. The pilot adjusted the controls, and the skids lifted from the tarmac. He banked the craft around and angled away from the station. We flew low across the island and nosed out over the ocean, heading into the Gulf.
The sun beamed bright, and a few clouds drifted in the sky.
"Coast Guard spotted the boat adrift about 100 nautical miles out," the sheriff said. "It's a miracle she's still alive. Boat dismasted.”
The rotors sliced the sky, and the engine howled. It only took about 45 minutes to reach the site. TheUSCGC Valorhad arrived, and an MH-60T Jayhawk circled above the water.
Carolyn’s boat was a tiny speck in the sea. Had it not been for the Coast Guard, there was no telling how long she could have been adrift.
Our pilot radioed the Coast Guard. "Valor, this is Tango One, inbound with Sheriff Daniels, two deputies, and a paramedic. Request SITREP on the fugitive.”
“Tango One, this is Valor Flight Ops. Be advised we have a visual on your aircraft. Suspect has not been recovered. Negative landing clearance at this time. Maintain a holding pattern 5 miles northwest of cutter until further instructions.”
"Copy that. Holding five northwest.”
At a hundred nautical miles, we were well beyond our jurisdiction. The Coast Guard had the authority to apprehend fugitives on the high seas. Once in their custody, Carolyn could be transferred to us, and we could take her back to Coconut Key. At least, that was the plan.
We watched from the air as the Coast Guard launched a RHIB boat from the stern. The four-man team skimmed across the water and pulled to the damaged sailboat.
Carolyn lay on the deck, looking distressed, waving for help. It was hard to tell at this distance, but it looked like she had limited mobility.
The team boarded the boat and attended to her. They treated her, then transferred her to the RHIB boat, which took her back to the cutter. She was transferred aboard. After a few minutes, a radio message crackled in my headphones.
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"Tango One, this is Valor Flight Ops. Fugitive is in custody. She is stable but is suffering a compound fracture of the tibia. She is hypotensive and dehydrated. Fetal vital signs are good. We recommend MEDEVAC via Jayhawk. Will transfer custody at the trauma center in Coconut Key.”
"Appreciate the update," our pilot said. “We’ll RTB and take custody of the fugitive ashore. Thanks for the assistance.”
"Anytime."
