Dad and the police arrive a few minutes later. Mark and one diver are in the boat. The other diver stands in the water. He’s got nowhere to go.
Saul and I tell the whole story. The policewoman calls for a fisheries officer to come and rescue Gertrude.
“We’ll keep that bag as evidence,” she says.
“They probably still have urchins on board,” says Dad. The policewoman nods and speaks into her radio.
Saul and I ride home in the police boat. I don’t have enough strength left to paddle a kayak.
“It’s hard to believe this all happened in one day,” I say. “Poor Gertrude. I wonder what’s going to happen to the sea otters. I really screwed up.”
I must look thoughtful, because Dad says, “Maya, telling us about the sea otters is the best thing you could do.”
“It is?”
“Sure,” he says, and he reaches over to take my hand. “Honey, now that everyone knows the sea otters are here, no one can hurt them, can they?”
He’s right. When no one but me knew they were there, anyone could have hurt them and no one would hear about it. Now everyone will know if something happens to them. They’re protected by that. I smile. “You’re right, Dad. I should have thought of that.”
He leans over and looks me in the eye. “You should have trusted all of us, eh?”
I nod. But then I say something that’s been on my mind since all of this began. “You should have trusted me too, Dad. You should have told me about the poachers. I wouldn’t have gone out there at all if I’d known there were poachers about. You should have told me.”
Dad looks down at his shoes. When he looks back at me, he nods.
In the morning Dad and Saul and I paddle into the bay as the sun tips over the treetops. We spread out and check the whole bay. The sea otters are gone. I knew they would be, but I was hoping anyway.
I meet Dad back in the middle of the bay. My face must look pretty glum because Dad says, “Gertrude will be okay, you know.”
I laugh. “You know I call her Gertrude?”
“Saul told me.”
I blush, but then I think of Saul calling out to Gertrude. “Saul was awesome yesterday,” I say.
“You should tell him that,” says Dad.
I nod. “I will.”
Saul paddles out from behind a rock and glides up beside us. “Sorry, Maya, no sight of them.”
“It’s okay. I know the fisheries guys will keep an eye on them,” I say.
“Dad and I can watch for them when we’re fishing,” says Saul.
“Really? Fishing? You got your boat back?” I ask.
Dad shakes his head. “Not yet, but if the police don’t find it, the insurance will cover the cost of replacing it. In the meantime, Saul and I can crew on Johansen’s boat.”
“You can let me know where the sea otters are and how Gertrude is doing,” I say. “If they’re close enough, I’ll paddle out before school and say hello.”
“Sounds like a plan,” says Dad. “For now, though, we’d better head back.”
Saul and Dad and I put our paddles in the water. The sun is bright over our shoulders. The water sparkles as the three of us head home.