This story began with that phone call nobody who lives in a coastal Alaska community ever wants to receive late at night. It was from my supervisor’s wife who was asking if her husband, with the prescient first name of “Fate,” had told me he was taking my boat out to go fishing. He hadn’t, but it was alright if he did take it out. It happened occasionally and that’s just the kind of friend I was. Fate’s wife had already called the Coast Guard because he was missing and Fate’s vehicle with my boat trailer connected to it was parked at the North Douglas launch ramp. It was dark, nobody had heard from him, and she was worried.
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