4 / Tongass
“I can see the ocean from here, Dad,” Cody said excitedly as his father, Nehemiah Dunn, carefully drove on the narrow twisted road along the Massachusetts coast.
“I know,” Nehemiah said, gritting his teeth as he felt the wheels of his Hummer start to slide on the iced-over surface. Of all the days I’ve had to come up here, it had to be this one.
Up in the treetops above their heads, the wind howled — squealing, whining, roaring like an angry animal set loose upon the earth. Huge gusts of wind buffeted the vehicle. Snow sprinkled down from the sky, the white dust swirling and spinning in the frigid air. Nehemiah relaxed only when the road widened and he saw a little wooden sign sticking up out of the ground. Etched across the sign was one word — Tongass.
“Are we there yet?” Cody asked.
“Yes, we’re here now,” said Nehemiah. “We’ll be coming up on the house any minute.”
“What does Tongass mean?”
“If I remember correctly, that’s the name of an American Indian tribe,” Nehemiah said. “I don’t know how it came to be stuck on this place.”
Cody turned back to the window and the fleeting glimpses of the ocean that he could see between the trees that now obscured his view. Nehemiah watched him. His unkempt black hair and curious eyes reminded him of his late wife, Waverly. She had always been excited and curious. Even though she had earned a degree as a teacher, she went to work writing for a travel agency because she wanted to see the world. When they met at a coffee shop in Trenton, she had peppered him with questions about England — the only place he had traveled to outside the United States.
“Is that a lighthouse down there?” Cody asked.
“Yes, it is,” said Nehemiah.
“So, ships used to come here?”
“No, a long, long time ago, the lighthouse was used to keep ships away from here,” Nehemiah said. “There are huge rocks in the coastal waters. When the tide is in, you can’t see them. Ships could get damaged or run aground.”
“Is all of this Grandpa’s land?” Cody asked.
“Yes,” Nehemiah said. “From that sign you saw all the way north to the river and from about a mile west of here down to the ocean. I grew up here.”
Up ahead, the two-story, Georgian-style home loomed into view. It was white with black shutters around the evenly spaced windows — four on the first floor and five on the second. The golden doorknob stood out from the faded dark red door.
Parked on one side of the walkway that led to the front door was a black SUV. Melanie, he thought. A few feet away, a silver Honda Civic with the words “Rex Home Medical Care” painted on its side was parked.
Nehemiah noticed that another set of tire tracks led down the road past the house. Another vehicle had been there before he arrived. That didn’t seem right. Or maybe that was the direction the home medical care provider had come from. Nehemiah shook off the uneasy feeling and turned onto the grass across the walkway from Melanie’s SUV.
“Okay, bundle up, kid,” he said as he grabbed his own jacket from the back seat and put it on. Something heavy weighed in his pocket, and he remembered his police badge and P226 Elite single action handgun. He put the badge in his jeans pocket and stuck the gun in the back of his belt. He didn’t expect any trouble up here on this frigid day, but it never hurt to be prepared.
The icy breeze slapped him in the face as he got out. Cody started kicking up mounds of snow. They both stuck their hands in their pockets and hurried up the walkway to the front door. As expected, the front door was unlocked. Nehemiah knocked on the door as he swung it open.
