The sun had just set and the transparent silhouettes of the Olympic Mountains were dark compared with the orange cloudless sky. A few seagulls flew by above the salt water, dark against the glow in the west. There were no star out yet, but two planets sparkled in the southern sky, probably Venus and Mars. The shadowed sailboat tied to the buoy beyond the low tide rocked gently with its bowline draped in the water. The breeze of the day was now only a whisper and the ripples on the water reflected the sky above. The beach was quiet. The low lapping sounds of the sea could only be heard a few feet away. The flags have been lowered and folded, ready to rise in the morning sun. The tufts of beach grass were still and tonight the driftwood would be safe on the sand.
The lighthouse across the bay flashed its sequence, letting the night travelers know where they were. Lights from houses and cabins afar danced across the water, tonight there is a calm all around the beach. A passive night for all to cherish, except for those on the run.
Jason knew he couldn’t stay. He had to leave tonight, under the cover of darkness. The moon would give him enough light to sail north out of Puget Sound. He would hug the coastline of Whidbey Island away from the shipping lines and the inbound cruise ships returning to Seattle after a week trip to Alaska.
He had spent days stalking the sailboat with enough supplies, weeks’ worth of food and water. He bought in small quantities and at different stores, so he looked like someone living on the island doing their weekly shopping. Different stores, different times of the days so as not to see the same shoppers or workers. The name on the boat had been changed. He’d spent hours on his laptop finding a name that he could use to get out the Straights of Juan d’Fuca, and easily changed as he entered Canadian waters. He had scoured sites with boats exactly like the one he had stolen. Hopefully the owner wouldn’t miss it for a few more weeks. He had chosen this boat carefully, one that belonged to someone he knew wouldn’t be using it until August.
Jason couldn’t stop running until he found the truth. But he could start looking until the hunt for him subsided. And that wouldn’t happen soon. He was a hunted man wanted by everyone including the FBI. Hopefully the Coast Guard wasn’t looking for him, but focused on attacks on ferries or drugs on in bound ships. It wouldn’t be light until he was in the straights and west bound. Hopefully the winds would be favorable and he could be in the Pacific Ocean by night fall. He would have liked to sail north in the protected waters on the east side of Vancouver Island, but there were customs agents everywhere. There would be fewer on the outside, forty miles off the coast. Then he’d turn east just north of Vancouver Island and change his boat’s name. Hopefully he was boarded he be just another sail boat in a Sunday afternoon event. He just have to get the timing correct and hope the event went off according to their schedule. He had entered the event electorally, and his, will the name he had chosen for his boat, would be seen and listed as only one of the entries, well behind the winner. After all he would be the only one on the boat while others would have a team of sailors.
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