Page 69 of Second Chance Alaska

He sighed and cleared his throat. After all this time, he needed to know. “Tell me,” he said.

Callan pulled out a couple of wooden chairs and Oliver fell into one. He rested his face between his hands, elbows resting on his knees, as the effort to sit straight was almost too much. His knees bounced uncontrollably as he waited for Callan to speak.

“According to the records, the LA-based division of the coast guard found your wife’s sailboat off the coast of California on July 6 at 4:30 p.m. Unfortunately, it wasn’t yet registered, so they couldn’t trace it back here.”

Two days after they’d gone missing. California? How had they gotten so far? Why had they gone that far?

Callan continued. “Alison and Catherine weren’t on board. The boat had been taken over here in the North Pacific by a smuggling crew when their own boat had caught the suspicion of the local coast guard vessel in the area. My crew.” He paused. “Unfortunately, my records show there hadn’t been sufficient evidence to apprehend the suspects at that time. Our orders were to observe and wait,” he said, sounding disappointed. As though he knew that he may have been able to stop it if only the local crew had acted or investigated further.

Oliver’s chest ached as he listened.

“When the suspects knew their boat was marked, they moved all the contraband on board Alison’s sailboat and continued their mission south, where they were eventually stopped by authorities.”

“Were Alison and Catherine still on board?” Oliver dared to ask, though his voice sounded thick and hoarse.

Callan shook his head with a deep sigh. “According to the men arrested, they hadn’t intended to hurt them. They planned to release them once they hit shore, but Alison and Catherine decided to take their chances by jumping overboard.”

So, they weren’t injured or killed by the smugglers—maybe they were still out there somewhere. They were both strong swimmers... But if they’d survived, they’d have found their way back home by now. They’d have contacted him the moment they were safe. His heart was in his throat as he said, “They didn’t make it.” It wasn’t a question, but he needed his friend to say it, to confirm the worst.

Callan shook his head again, a look of torment on his face as he delivered the worst of the news. “Afraid not. Their bodies were discovered in San Diego on July 8. A fisherman made the discovery, but without identification, they were listed as Jane Does.” His buddy paused, then said, “I was able to confirm DNA matches with the California coroner’s office this morning.”

Coroner’s office... DNA matches...to his deceased wife and daughter.

Who so bravely fought for their lives instead of remaining hostage to a smuggling operation. He swallowed hard, several times, but was unable to swallow the bile rising in the back of his throat. His mouth filled with saliva and nausea overwhelmed him. He’d barely made it to the trash can before he vomited.

Callan was next to him, offering support as Oliver’s knees gave way and he sank to the cold, dirty shed floor. The room spun around him as wave after wave of nausea overwhelmed him, the sick feeling penetrating through his core. It was as though the disappearance had just happened yesterday, the pain and regret burning through him as though the wound were still fresh. He’d wanted to know what had happened that day. He’d tortured himself with what-ifs, and a lingering, lasting hope that had paralyzed him for so long. Prevented him from moving on with his life. But this permanency held its own level of torture. There were no more what-ifs, just the truth about what happened to his family that day.

Now that he knew it, did it really set him free?

IFHEARINGTHEnews had been difficult, telling Tess had been the hardest thing Oliver had ever had to do in his life. As a parent, delivering this kind of devastating news had to be the most challenging in the world. And having to do it a second time was the ultimate in unfairness.

After Callan left him with a sincere apology and offer to support Oliver and Tess in any way he could, Oliver had spent a long time alone in the shed before heading into the house to have the difficult talk. He couldn’t not tell her. She deserved the truth, the closure, as much as he did.

So, with as much strength as he could muster, he’d delivered a shortened, less devastating version of the events, simply explaining that her mother’s boat had been pirated and her mother and sister had escaped but unfortunately hadn’t made it to safety.

And now he sat on the floor outside her bedroom, listening to the sound of her crying, as she’d insisted on being alone with the kitten to process the new information. Feeling helpless, wanting to respect her need for space as she came to terms with the news, but wanting to be nearby if and when she did need him, Oliver rested his head against the wall, battling his own turmoil.

Emotions overwhelmed him—sadness, anger, torment and despair—and he tried to steady his uneven breath and control the spiraling thoughts and emotions. He didn’t—couldn’t—fault the coast guard and he didn’t want to harden his heart with anger and blame. He needed to accept the unfortunate incident for what it had been. His wife and daughter had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He needed to be strong for Tess. Years before, he’d been a mess, and he’d always regretted not being there completely for her as she processed things. This time,herfeelings,herhealing, were the thing that he’d prioritize. Whatever she needed. Therefore, he needed to deal with his own as quickly as possible and then be the source of support she needed.

Whenever she came out of the room...

He heard the front door open and, a moment later, Carly appeared in the hallway. Her own devastated expression told him she knew. He was grateful that Callan or Rachel had delivered the news, because he wasn’t sure he was physically strong enough to have explained things to her as well.

She walked toward him slowly, and placing her back against the wall, she slid the length of it and sat next to him. He reached for her hand and held it tight as they sat there in silence, once more grieving, processing and drawing whatever strength and comfort they could from one another, despite the conflict brewing in their own hearts.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“ICAN’TBELIEVECallan was able to figure this out,” Skylar said the next day. Standing behind the counter of the bookstore, she poured two cups of coffee, carried one toward Carly and placed it on the counter in front of her. “I mean, when he came into the station the other day, asking to review the old records, I thought never in a million years would he find what he was looking for. There were dozens of smuggling operations that year. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.” Skylar paused and sipped her coffee. “But he was persistent. I don’t think he left the office for two days, sorting through files and going over the photos of contraband and items held in the storage facility.”

Skylar was clearly impressed by the former coast guard officer’s diligence at finding answers and Carly was grateful too, but unfortunately, knowledge and closure didn’t make things any better. It didn’t bring Alison and Catherine back.

She sipped the hot liquid but it just tasted bitter on her tongue that day. She’d already let two cups go cold, her stomach unable to cope with food or caffeine. She was already unable to sleep, and her heart was so messed up, she feared adding caffeine would just fuel an anxiety attack. “It’s just so hard to process, you know?” she said.

Skylar touched her hand. “At least now there’s closure. No more wondering what happened,” she said softly.

Carly nodded because it was impossible to explain how that closure really didn’t make her feel much better. At least she knew Alison and Catherine were at rest.

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