When I got home from work that afternoon, I wasted no time changing into my swimsuit and plunging into the cool ocean. The sky had cleared overnight and the sun was back out in full force. Although the heat wave hadn’t returned, it was still warm enough to feel like summer.
Even so, it didn’t take long for goosebumps to form on my arms and legs, so I kept my swim short. Once I’d returned to the house and changed into shorts and a T-shirt, I checked my phone. Brett had texted me to see if it was okay to bring Bentley over for a visit.
Of course! I wrote back. Not sure what Flapjack will think, but I guess we’ll find out!
I eyed Flapjack, currently asleep in a patch of sun out on the back porch. I had no idea how he felt about dogs, or if he’d even come close to one before.
“You might be in for a rude awakening,” I said.
The tabby didn’t stir.
While I waited for Brett and Bentley to arrive, I booted up my laptop and browsed through an online fabric store’s inventory. I hadn’t yet decided on the new upholstery fabric for my furniture. There was a settee with matching wingback chairs in the formal living room that needed attention, as well as an antique slipper chair I’d discovered in the upstairs tower room back when I had first arrived in Wildwood Cove in the spring. I planned to put the slipper chair in my bedroom, where it would complement my queen bed’s antique headboard and the Victorian cheval mirror I’d purchased at Mr. Gorski’s shop.
The online store had plenty of gorgeous fabrics to choose from, but I couldn’t decide if I wanted to stick with something traditional or go with a more modern option. Maybe something in between?
I still hadn’t made a decision by the time I heard car tires crunching along the driveway. Shutting down my laptop, I decided that my fabric selections would have to wait until another day. When I opened the front door, Bentley was attempting to charge up the front steps while Brett—keeping a firm grip on the leash attached to the dog’s harness—did his best to maintain a more sedate pace.
“Hey there, boy,” I said as I crouched down to greet Bentley.
He covered me with sloppy kisses, his tail wagging the whole time.
“He’s not too interested in taking it easy,” Brett said.
“You’ve got to be careful of your poor leg, buddy.” I gave Bentley a final pat before straightening up to give Brett a quick kiss. “Let me go in ahead of you. I’d better close the back door so Bentley doesn’t go running off anywhere.”
Leaving Brett to shut the front door, I passed Flapjack on my way across the family room.
“You might not want to go that way,” I said as the tabby headed for the hallway.
I shut the French doors and turned to follow Flapjack. He got halfway down the hall before he stopped short, his back arching. Bentley spotted him at the same moment and lunged toward him. Brett still had him on the leash though, so he didn’t get more than a foot or two. Flapjack, however, didn’t realize that because he’d already spun around. He shot off down the hall, skittering between my feet before disappearing into the family room.
“Easy, there, Bentley,” Brett said as the goldendoodle kept trying to chase after Flapjack. “You’re not allowed to run until your leg is better.”
With Brett keeping a firm grip on the dog’s leash, we all entered the family room.
Bentley stopped straining to get ahead and put his nose to the ground, sniffing around the base of the couch.
“Hopefully he’ll calm down in a—”
Bentley shot forward, taking Brett by surprise. The dog stuck his nose behind the TV cabinet in the corner, his tail wagging fiercely. I couldn’t see Flapjack, but I heard his angry hiss clearly enough. Bentley yelped and backed out of the corner as fast as he could. He blinked at Brett, his expression one of utter shock. A single drop of blood bloomed on his snout.
“Oh no! Did you get swatted?” I asked.
Still looking shocked, Bentley pressed up close to Brett’s legs.
Flapjack sidled out from behind the TV cabinet. In contrast to the dog’s expression, his was one of smug satisfaction. His tail twitched and he sat down, giving his paw a casual lick.
Next to Brett, Bentley whined and lay down on the floor, resting his chin on his paws. With another flick of his tail, Flapjack got up and walked slowly toward the dog. Bentley whined again, but didn’t move.
“Um, Flapjack? What are you up to?” I asked, uneasy.
I took a step toward the animals, fearing that I’d have to jump in to separate them, but once Flapjack reached Bentley’s front paws, he simply sat down and looked up at me, still with that satisfied look on his face.
“Could it be that we’ve reached a truce?” Brett asked.
“I think you put him in his place, Jack.”
The tabby hopped up onto the couch, curling up before resting his head on one paw and closing his eyes.
Cautiously, Brett unhooked the leash from Bentley’s harness. Although the dog kept sending glances in the tabby’s direction, he remained lying on the floor.
“All in all, I think that went well,” Brett said.
“So do I.” I grabbed a tissue and gently dabbed at Bentley’s nose.
No fresh blood appeared.
“We’ll make sure that doesn’t get infected, buddy,” Brett told him. “But I think you’ll be fine.”
Bentley cast one last glance Flapjack’s way, and then closed his eyes.
With the situation calm now, I quietly opened the French doors to allow the ocean breeze into the house. I placed a porch chair at the top of the steps so Bentley couldn’t run off and hurt his healing leg.
Brett and I settled on the porch with cold drinks and Bentley came out to join us a moment later, lying down at our feet. After enjoying the view for a while, we threw together a light dinner of veggie fajitas and ate those outside as well. Once we’d finished our meal and had cleaned up our dishes, Brett tried calling his uncle.
“No answer on his cell,” he said as he disconnected seconds later. “I’ll see if he’s at home.”
From his end of the ensuing conversation, I gathered that his aunt Gwen was home, but not his uncle.
“Sounds like they’ll all be tied up for a while then,” Brett said. “All right. Thanks, Gwen.”
“What’s up?” I asked when he disconnected the call.
“There’s a three-car accident on the highway. I doubt anyone from the sheriff’s department will be able to keep an eye on the river tonight.”
“Oh no,” I said, thinking that was bad news all around.
I remembered what Tommy had said earlier that day and wondered if it was too late to put his plan into motion.
“What are you thinking?” Brett asked, watching me.
I told him about Tommy’s idea of borrowing his friend’s night vision camera and watching the river site ourselves.
“I don’t know,” Brett said. “What if Jake and whoever is with him gets angry enough to turn violent?”
“They don’t even need to know that they’re being watched. If we catch them on camera, we can turn that evidence over to Ray. And if we’re on the scene, we can make sure nothing they dump gets into the river.”
Brett still didn’t seem entirely convinced, but I was already fetching my phone from the coffee table.
“You really want to do this?” he asked.
“As long as we can get the camera.”
“But we’re going to stay out of sight?”
“Of course. I don’t want an ugly confrontation.”
“All right, but I’ll need to take Bentley home first.”
The dog raised his head when he heard his name, his brown eyes fixed on Brett.
“We can stop at your place on the way to the river.” I leaned down to ruffle the fur on Bentley’s head, and then put a call through to Tommy.
As soon as I’d explained the situation, I asked if Tommy could borrow his friend’s camera on short notice.
“Probably,” he replied. “I’ll give him a call and then text you to let you know.” Before hanging up, he added, “This’ll be cool.”
I wasn’t sure how right he was about that. More likely than not we’d end up bored out of our minds until someone appeared. If someone appeared. There was a chance that Jake and his accomplice would change their minds and find a new dumping site or put off their activities until another night. But I knew I couldn’t rest easy knowing they might be out there under the cover of darkness, putting the river and surrounding area at risk. They needed to be stopped, and they needed to be held accountable for what they’d done.
I kept my phone in my hand, and a few minutes later it buzzed, alerting me to a new message from Tommy.
Going to get the camera now. Where/when should I meet you?
I sent him Brett’s address and asked if he could be there in half an hour.
Sure thing, was his reply.
I switched my shorts for a pair of jeans and locked up the house. Brett drove us to his place, where he left Bentley with Chloe. We stood in the driveway, waiting for Tommy, and a few minutes later I heard a rumble of skateboard wheels on pavement. Tommy came sailing around the corner, hopping off his skateboard and flipping it up into his hand, a big grin on his face the entire time.
He had a black backpack slung over one shoulder, and he gave the strap a pat as he said, “The camera’s all ready. Let’s go catch us some scumbags.”
“Catch on camera, not physically,” Brett said.
“Sure,” Tommy said. “We’ll do the filming and the sheriff can do the cuffing.”
We piled into Brett’s truck, Tommy in the backseat, and headed for the western edge of town, where the river formed a border on its way to meet the ocean. Dusk was just beginning to fall when Brett turned onto a dirt road that led through the trees, the shadows deepening as the forest thickened around us. He drove slowly, the truck bumping over rocks and ruts.
When we reached the clearing where waste had been dumped before, Brett kept driving.
“I think there’s another road up ahead. We should be able to hide the car there,” he said.
Sure enough, when the truck rounded a slight bend, another unpaved road branched off to the left, heading away from the river. It clearly hadn’t been used anytime recently, the forest beginning to encroach on the road. Brett was still able to back his truck into it without any branches scratching the vehicle, and once it was tucked several feet away from the other road, he cut the engine.
We all squeezed out of the truck, not opening the doors too wide because of the branches reaching in toward us. I’d brought a small flashlight and now tucked it into the pocket of my jeans. It wasn’t yet dark enough to need it, but I knew that would be a different story later. Tommy also had a small flashlight. As we walked back toward the clearing by the edge of the river, we agreed to signal two quick flashes if we heard a vehicle approaching.
Tommy planned to take the camera up a tree so he’d have a good vantage point for filming. Brett and I would stay down on the ground, hidden among the trees and undergrowth. As the encroaching darkness leeched the colors from the scenery, Tommy searched for a good tree to climb, one that would give him some cover while still allowing him to film any action in the clearing below.
A mosquito buzzed at my face and I swatted it away, glad I’d brought a hoodie to cover my arms. I’d grabbed it thinking it might get chilly after the sun went down, but now I realized that it would probably save me from a few bug bites too. Another mosquito buzzed around me and I slid my arms into the sleeves, even though it was still warm out.
“This is perfect,” Tommy announced.
He stood at the base of a Douglas fir with plenty of sturdy branches. About ten feet up, a broken branch dangled down, leaving a window-like opening. Tommy dropped his backpack onto the ground and climbed up the tree, moving easily from branch to branch.
“Look out below!” He tugged on the broken branch, freeing it and letting it fall to the ground, leaving room for him to sit on the sturdy branch below the broken stub. He climbed down a couple of feet and then dropped the rest of the way to the ground, picking up the backpack and slinging it over one shoulder. “Where will you guys be?”
Brett had wandered around the perimeter of the clearing and now stopped almost directly across from Tommy’s lookout point. “Over here.”
“All right, I’ll get into place.” Tommy reached for the lowest branch.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay sitting up there?” I asked. “We could be waiting a long time.”
“No worries,” he said as he climbed up the tree. “I practically lived in trees when I was a kid. And I’ve got games on my phone to help pass the time.”
“Okay, but be careful,” I cautioned. “Don’t fall asleep, or you might fall.”
“I’ll be fine,” he assured me.
Leaving him to take up his perch, I crossed the clearing to meet up with Brett. He’d found a fallen tree where we could sit relatively comfortably while still being hidden from view by a screen of ferns and huckleberry bushes. He sat down on the log and I settled in next to him, close enough that our arms were touching.
With the sun now out of sight, our wait began.