Chapter 5 - Eli
She went to see Eli on a Sunday.
She had not been authorized to. Nakamura had told her not to talk to anyone about the investigation, and Eli and his grandmother were not exceptions to that. But Eli had asked to see her. His grandmother had called the station and asked if it would be possible for Seaman Brooks to come to the house for an hour. The station had said they would pass on the message. The message had been passed on.
Leah had called the grandmother.
The grandmother had said, "He wants to see you. He's been asking for two weeks. He thinks you're in trouble because of him."
Leah had said, "I'll be there at two."
Eli lived with his grandmother in a small house on the outskirts of Cape May. There was a garden in the front and a pickup truck in the driveway that had belonged to Marcus and that no one had moved. There was a porch with two rocking chairs and a wind chime that was moving in the breeze.
Eli opened the door before Leah could knock.
He was smaller than she remembered. He had been smaller in the water too, when she had grabbed him, but she had not thought about it then because she had been doing her job. Now she was standing on a porch in the daylight and he was a small boy with a bandage on his wrist and a bruise on his cheek that had mostly faded and eyes that had seen something they should not have seen.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi, Eli."
"You're not in trouble anymore?"
"I don't know yet."
"That's what my grandma said." He stepped back. "Come in. Grandma made coffee."
Leah stepped into the house.
The grandmother — Maria Dawson, sixty-three years old, small and sturdy and tired — was in the kitchen. She poured two cups of coffee and set them on the table and sat down in a chair across from Leah and looked at her.
"You're the one who pulled him out," she said.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Thank you."
"Ma'am—"
"Don't." Maria Dawson held up a hand. "I know what you did. I know what you're going through. I know what they're saying about you. And I want you to know that I do not believe it. Not one word of it. My son was on that boat. My son called for help. And whatever happened, you went to him. You went to him when you didn't have to. And you brought my grandson home."
Leah's throat tightened.
"Mrs. Dawson," she said, "I'm sorry I couldn't bring your son home too."
Maria Dawson was quiet for a long moment.
"Seaman Brooks," she said finally, "my son was a stubborn man. He was a stubborn man with a temper and a strong back and a sense of right and wrong that would not let him alone. He had been reporting the poaching boats to the state for two years. He had been threatened. He had been offered money. He had been told to stop. He did not stop."
Leah's heart stopped.
"Mrs. Dawson," she said, "do you know who threatened him?"
"My son knew," Maria said. "He kept a logbook. He kept it in the boat. He kept it with the photographs and the names. He would not tell me who. He said it was safer if I didn't know. He said he had sent copies to the state and he had sent copies to a man at the Coast Guard who he trusted."
Leah leaned forward.
"Ma'am," she said, "did he tell you the name of the man at the Coast Guard?"
Maria Dawson looked at her.
"He didn't tell me the name," she said. "But he told me the man was the one he called when the poachers tried to ram him. And he told me the man said he would take care of it. And then the poachers tried to ram him again. And then my son was dead."
Leah's hands were shaking.
"Mrs. Dawson," she said, "the logbook. Do you have it?"
"The logbook went down with the boat."
"Do you have anything else? Photographs? Letters?"
Maria Dawson was quiet for a moment.
She stood up and walked out of the kitchen and down the hall and came back a minute later with a small notebook in her hand.
"He kept this in the truck," she said. "It's just maintenance and money and things he needed to remember. But the last page is about the poachers. It's not the logbook. It's just a note."
She set the notebook on the table.
Leah opened it.
The last page was in Marcus Dawson's handwriting. It said:
"Victor Gage. Cape May Fisheries. Buying from the Marlene and the Two Brothers. Both unlicensed. Both in the restricted zone. Reported to state 6/14, 8/22, 9/30. State says no evidence. Reported to CG 9/30. CG says pass to state. Nobody cares. Eli on the boat with me tonight. Weather coming in. Keep him close."
Leah looked up.
"Mrs. Dawson," she said, "do you know who Victor Gage is?"
"I know."
"Do you know who he's related to?"
Maria Dawson's eyes met hers.
"I know that too," she said. "I've known for two weeks. I've known since the debriefing bay. My grandson came home and told me a man was throwing your helmet on the floor and saying you left my son behind. And I said to myself, 'That man's name is Rusk. And that man has been protecting the poachers.'"
Leah's breath caught.
"Mrs. Dawson," she said, "how do you know that?"
Maria Dawson stood up.
"Because," she said, "my son told me. Two days before he died. He said, 'Mom, if something happens to me, don't trust the Coast Guard. Trust the investigator. Not the commander. The investigator.'"
Leah looked at the notebook in her hands.
"Mrs. Dawson," she said, "can I keep this?"
"No," Maria Dawson said. "You can copy the last page. But the notebook stays here. Because in this house, we do not give away the last thing a man wrote down."
Leah nodded.
She copied the page into her own notebook.
She handed the original back to Maria Dawson.
She stayed for another hour.
When she left, Eli walked her to the door.
"Seaman Brooks," he said.
"Eli."
"Are you going to get in trouble?"
"I don't know."
"Are they going to say you left my dad behind?"
Leah knelt down so that she was at his eye level.
"Eli," she said, "I am going to do everything I can to make sure nobody ever says that again."
May you like
Eli looked at her.
"Good," he said. "Because you didn't."
