Page 120 of The Wild Beneath

Aiden grabs the radio off the medical bag. But that samespark makes him hesitate now, his hand on the receiver. Like his body doesn’t want him to press the button.

“Make the call,” Ruth says firmly. She digs an emergency thermal blanket out of the bag.

Aiden puts the receiver down. He pushes his sleeves up his forearms and clears his throat. “Can you get the blood pressure cuff?” He keeps his voice level. He’s good at his job. Direct, mild-mannered. Competent. The rain starts again, pelting against his shoulders and face. A chill sweeps over him.

But he plows over his instinct and picks the handset back up. A staticky buzz against his palm. He clicks it on and makes the call to the coast guard on channel 16.

Chapter 48

Now

Annie stares at the empty boat cradle in the warehouse for what feels like forever before she steps inside.

Very little else has changed. Inside the stove is a half-burned log. The emerald-green canoe with the broken oar still sleeps in the rafters, and orange life jackets dot the hangers on the wall. But a new folding cot is arranged in the corner with an army-green sleeping bag and a pillow.

Annie crosses the room.

A constellation of items is arranged on the workbench: the spoon with moon phases on the handle, a gold bracelet, two zipper pulls, a watch that no longer ticks. A cell phone with a cracked screen. Together, they form a circle. In the centre of the workbench, the sawdust has been brushed aside and there: a sand dollar.

“He said you might be coming.”

Annie whips around. “Uncle Henry. How’d you know I was up here?”

“Saw you come in from the harbour.”

She embraces him and the familiar, damp-wool smell of his jacket. His cheeks are more weathered and crepey, his beard even whiter. But his steadfastness feels unchanged.

“Evan told you I was on my way up?”

“No.”

Annie blinks. “Who was it?”

Henry removes his hat and runs a hand through his hair. It sticks up in white plumes. “He showed up buck naked again. Couldn’t tell me where he’d been.”

“Oh my god.” Annie’s jaw goes slack. Her hands fall loose at her sides.

“Never was much of a talker. It was even worse this time,” Henry says.

Annie’s legs are shaking so badly she has to sit down on the cot.

Henry puts his cap back on. “It’s late, little fish. You can stay at Ruth’s tonight. It’s shipshape up there. I’ll cook you something.”

She looks to him. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Walker said he told you himself.”

“What?” She rubs her thighs to try to get them to stop quivering. They will not.

He frowns. “Look at you. You’re so exhausted you’re shaking. We’ll figure this out in the morning.”

“When did Walker leave, Uncle Henry?”

“Sailed out less than a week ago. He didn’t even have a radio or GPS for god’s sake.” Henry looks over at the cradle. “Said he didn’t need them.”

“How’dPolarislook on the water?” She wishes she could have seen it.

“She looked good. Seaworthy.”