Читать книгу Deep Waters - Jessica Patch R. - Страница 12
ОглавлениеCaley never tired of marine life. Silence except for the gentle sounds of air bubbles releasing. She reached down and felt the hose releasing oxygen from her tank to her mouthpiece. Still had sufficient tension. She kept an eye on Shep, studying him. Powerful legs. Powerful in general. Understanding dawned as to why Wilder had brought Shep into his team. He was a force to be reckoned with. A true soldier in every way. Caley admired the men and women in the military. Loved this reef dedicated to their honor. Seemed Shep did too.
He was admiring a barracuda with sharp teeth, nearly five feet long. Fierce. Seemed the fish and the solider studying him had something in common. She left him to his amusement as a goliath grouper swam around a crag revealing a green turtle nested in the crevice. She swam toward it, breaking up a school of bluish-green pompano, then reached the gentle creature, brushing her hand along its smooth carapace.
Carapace. Shepherd had been listening. Watching the tour. But it seemed as if he’d been preoccupied with something else too. Probably the case. But when he’d been able to relay what she’d said, it had sent a thrill through her. Her own family, while supportive, never listened with such attentiveness to her passion for marine life—for sea turtles.
She stroked the turtle again; it was probably hunting for root algae. Eat on, big guy. Eat on.
She breathed in. Huh. Short breath. Strange. She squeezed the hose again. Sufficient tension. She should have been given a full breath.
An odd sensation crept up her back.
She grabbed her pressure gauge. Twenty-thousand PSI. Plenty of pounds of pressure. So why the limited flow of oxygen?
She breathed in again, watching the gauge.
Another short breath. But even more frightening was the way the pressure dropped dramatically. How on earth?
Her heart lurched into her throat as she inhaled again.
Nothing.
Her air supply was completely cut off! No warning.
Stay calm. Don’t panic.
Shep was about five feet away. They could share air.
Turning, Caley saw only the underwater world.
No Shep.
She fumbled for her tank rattler to signal him. Surely he’d hear it...but it wasn’t hooked on her belt like it normally was.
Her brain screamed for air.
Swiping her knife, she clanged it against her oxygen tank.
God, please let him hear me! I pray You hear me!
Turning upward she had two choices and not much time to decide which option was best. Caley could hope Shep had heard her banging and that she could hold out until he arrived with oxygen, or she could make an emergency ascent.
Up thirty feet.
Exhaling the entire time so her lungs didn’t expand and do catastrophic damage.
Could she exhale that long?
Every fiber in her being convulsed.
What to do?
Time was running out.
She needed to breathe!
Shep was nowhere.
No time.
She bolted for the surface.
Heart beating out of her chest.
Up she raced, slowly exhaling...exhaling...exhaling... Not too fast. Can’t stop exhaling.
She desperately needed air.
Anxiety continued to rise but she’d been trained. Don’t panic. Keep exhaling.
God, help me!
Something tugged at her leg.
She kicked, then realized it was Shep. She used her hand and made a slicing signal across her throat as she continued to exhale and rise.
Maybe fifteen feet left.
He grabbed her forearm, pulled her closer to his chest, removed his breathing apparatus and handed it off to her.
Caley wrapped her hands around his as he held it to her, inhaling sweet oxygen, then she passed it back to him as they made their ascent more slowly to the surface, their knees sometimes knocking together as they kicked upward.
He signaled the okay sign and she gave it back. Relief flooded her, but also the unsettling vibe over what had occurred.
They made their way to ten feet where they had to wait the three excruciating minutes for a decompression. Shep grabbed her pressure gauge and hose and studied it while they passed off air to one another, waiting.
She’d been on hundreds of dives. Could teach a class if necessary. This had never happened before.
With Mary Beth’s death on the edge of her mind, several frightening scenarios popped through her brain. And questions.
Shep dropped her gauge. His eyes narrowed. Two more minutes and they could talk this out. But for now it was just them.
The ocean that had once been peaceful and calm now took on an ominous appearance as if it was disappointed it hadn’t swallowed her up whole.
She shivered and concentrated on breathing. On Shepherd.
Sharing the apparatus with him felt intimate even though it was nothing more than a means to stay alive. Wanting to spring to the surface, to safety, she checked her watch.
Time was up.
She nodded and they finished their ascent, bursting into the atmosphere, inhaling all the oxygen they needed. Warm sunshine. Seagulls squawking.
“What happened?” Shep growled, all grit and gravel in his voice.
“I don’t know,” she said as she hauled herself into the boat, Shep right beside her. She removed her tank and studied it. “I just don’t know. One minute I had air, then a short breath, then nothing. I filled it up two days ago and haven’t been out since then.”
Shep studied the tank. “Didn’t Ashley say Mary Beth was in the equipment room the night before she died?”
Shep’s unspoken accusation was absurd. “Mary Beth did not tamper with my tank. Besides, she wouldn’t be skilled enough to know how. I don’t even know what happened.”
“But it’s possible.”
“It’s insane. What would her motivation be?”
“I don’t know.” Shep tossed his mask on the bench and frowned out at the sea. “We need to get a scuba tech to check it out. And not one from the center.”
Caley shook out her wet hair. “Why?”
“I don’t trust anyone there.” He faced her. “I don’t think this was an accident. Just like Mary Beth’s death wasn’t. And if I’m right, someone on the inside wanted you to run out of air. Could have been Mary Beth.”
Caley’s legs felt like jelly and she collapsed on the bench. “That makes no sense. I always dive with a partner. Whoever did it would know I’d have a buddy to breathe with.”
“Maybe whoever did it had planned to go with you. Maybe Mary Beth. What if she conveniently disappeared and you didn’t make your ascent safely? What if she lured you farther down?”
Caley’s stomach curdled. “I can’t...believe that.” Why would anyone want to harm her? Or Mary Beth? “If it was Mary Beth who messed with my gear, why did she end up dead? You think someone knows and killed her for it?”
“I don’t know why. But this whole scenario isn’t jibing.”
“I don’t always keep my gear in the equipment room. Most of the time I keep it on the boat. Anyone could have access. It could have been tampered with long before I brought it to the equipment room.”
“Either way, someone knows you use a hot-pink oxygen tank.”
Caley’s throat burned. “It could have been an accident.”
“Maybe.” Shep sat beside her. “But maybe not, Little Flynn. Maybe not.”
Shaken to the core, she hoped Shep would reach out with another weak “there there,” but he didn’t.
“I’m gonna call Wilder. Update him.”
Like a good soldier.
“Let’s get to shore and talk to personnel, see if Mary Beth dived with anyone not connected to the center. Then we can take the tank to the university and have it checked out by a random tech. If it’s not an accident, then call Wilder. Let’s not worry him until it’s necessary.”
Shep sniffed, seemed to mull the idea over. “All right.”
What if Shep’s guess was right? What if someone had planned to go diving with Caley and had thought to lure her farther below and disappeared? Which prompted her next question. “Where were you? One minute you were checking out a barracuda and the next, I couldn’t find you.” She wasn’t accusing him but she was curious. Five feet apart was too far to begin with, but out of eye sight was unacceptable, though easy to do, especially if you weren’t a regular diver.
He ran his hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have gotten too far away. I failed you, Caley.”
Was he joking? “Shepherd, I’m not sure I could have made it all the way up. And there is no decompressing on an emergency ascent. I’m not fussing at you.” She laid her hand on his. “I just wondered.”
He snatched his hand away and stood. “Let’s get moving.”
She cranked the engine. So much for accepting some grace. Maybe he’d accept this next gesture. “I meant to say something earlier—those twin beds are tiny at the dorm. I’m going to get you a hotel room. Do you want to be closer to the center or to my house? I live on the other side of town on a small residential strip of beach property. But there’s a quaint little B and B nearby.” Not that Shepherd looked like B and B material.
“How long will it take a tech to discover if the tank was tampered with?”
Okay, not accepting that extension of grace either. She sighed. “Depends.”
“Then I’ll make a decision later.”
Ah. That made sense. If it was a direct threat to Caley, he’d want to be close in order to protect her. If it wasn’t, he might opt for a hotel farther away. That sort of stuck in her craw. But then why would he want to be near her for any other reason than to follow Wilder’s orders? Why did it matter?
Caley increased the throttle and headed back to the marina to dock, then they headed to the dive tour facility. According to them, Mary Beth hadn’t been diving with anyone other than interns and Caley. They zipped to the university and dropped off the tank with a reputable researcher in the marine biology department.
“I used my extra bag last night, so do you mind if we stop by my house so I can change?” Caley noticed how cramped Shep’s legs were in her yellow Volkswagen Beetle. She couldn’t help that.
“Sure. So you rent a house and your landlord lives with you? That’s weird.” He took off his mirrored aviator glasses, using his shirt to clean the smudges.
“Well, I rented the whole bungalow until a year ago when Miss Whittle had some health problems and couldn’t live alone anymore. Her only son lives in Montana. She won’t do the cold. He owns a ranch and wouldn’t move here—real nice guy, huh? Anyway, I offered her a room. I mean, it is technically her house. I can look after her and... I don’t know... I like it. Plus she cut my rent by more than half. She reminds me of my grandmother.”
Shep wouldn’t know the love and warmth of a grandmother. He’d never had one growing up in foster care. Her heart ached for the little boy Shepherd once was. No family. No real home. No grandparents to bake for him or dote on him.
“Do you have a single mean bone in your body, Little Flynn?”
Little Flynn. She had to get him to stop using that term. It was annoying. “I don’t care for that term just so you know.”
“Nothing wrong with being a Flynn.” His voice almost sounded covetous. Guess she couldn’t blame him. The Flynns were tight-knit. Demanding and rigid at times, sure, but they loved one another and displayed affection to show it. Dad’s hugs were almost as suffocating as Wilder’s. But she treasured them nonetheless.
“It’s not the Flynn I don’t like. It’s the Little.”
Shep sized her up. “You are little.”
“I’m not a baby.”
“You’re Wilder’s baby sister.”
She heaved an exasperated sigh. “I’m his younger sister. Difference.” She turned right at the traffic light past several tourist shops selling knickknacks, souvenirs, surfing equipment and, of course, T-shirts with Turtle Bay stamped on them.
Shep didn’t respond to her last retort, so she let it go. Besides, they were home. She pulled into the driveway and under the carport to her three-bedroom, two bath, bungalow-style home. It sported banana-yellow stucco with a bright red chimney and a welcoming white door. Palm trees surrounded the home and one stood guard at the yellow concrete stairs leading to her cozy porch.
“Welcome to my house. It’s not much but it’s home.” She put her key in the lock but the door opened. “Well, that’s odd,” she mumbled.
“What?”
“We don’t leave the doors unlocked. I mean, it’s safe here in Turtle Bay but...”
Shep guided her back a step. “I’ll go in first,” he whispered.
“Sure...okay.” Chest pounding, Caley balled her fist and rubbed it against her thigh. “Wait! Let me go. Miss Whittle may have checked the mail and forgotten. With her heart condition, your barreling in could send her into cardiac arrest.”
Shep didn’t look like he was going to let her but then he scooted over. “Just holler. Don’t go in.”
“She’s almost deaf. If she’s not wearing her hearing aids, she wouldn’t hear a train if it roared past her window.”
Heat flashed in Shep’s eyes. “Pray her heart holds up then, because you’re not going in there before me.”
She tamped down on her temper. “Fine, but holler first.”
Shep entered. “Miss Whittle!” Scuffling sounded from inside and something crashed on the tile floor. “Miss Whittle!”
Shep sprinted through the living room and into the kitchen. Caley followed and tripped over a throw pillow from the rocking chair. The house was a wreck! It mirrored Mary Beth’s dorm room. Couch cushions, books and magazines had been scattered across the living room floor. “Miss Whittle!”
Caley rushed into the kitchen. Through the window by the breakfast nook, she spotted a man dressed in dark clothes and a hoodie darting across the backyard toward the road. Shep was hot on his heels.
“Miss Whittle?” Lord, please let her be safe. Where could she be? Panic welled up in her chest.
She rounded the eating bar and gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. Miss Whittle lay on the floor, blood trickling down her brow and cheek. Caley grabbed her cell phone. Déjà vu. Feeling for a pulse, she called dispatch for an ambulance and police.
There it was. Faint.
“Yes, she has a pulse, but she also has a heart condition,” she informed the dispatcher. Caley held Miss Whittle’s hand and prayed God would keep her heart working and that everything would turn out all right...even though, deep down, Caley wasn’t so sure she believed her prayers made a difference. They hadn’t protected Meghan, and Caley had prayed daily for the protection and safety of her family.
She continued to hold Miss Whittle’s hand as she fretted for Shep. Where was he? Had he caught the guy this time? Was it the same guy who broke into Mary Beth’s dorm room?
And why would he break into Caley’s place? She didn’t have anything that belonged to Mary Beth.
Once again sirens blared and first responders rushed to the house, where they took Miss Whittle’s vitals. The police arrived, but this time Officer Wilborn wasn’t on the scene. Instead, a man dressed casually caught her attention. Tall. Muscular. Caley had seen enough plainclothes officers to know this was one.
“Miss Flynn,” the man said, “I’m Detective Tom Kensington. A friend of your brother’s.”
Wilder and Shep’s contact at Turtle Bay Police Department. “Yes, of course. Thank you for coming.” First responders left with Miss Whittle to take her to Turtle Bay Hospital. As soon as Caley finished here, she’d call Miss Whittle’s son, then go to the hospital to be with her.
“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked.
They came home.
Shep chased the intruder.
No, she didn’t get a good look at him except to notice he was wearing a black hoodie. In this weather.
“I’m going to be honest with you, Caley. It’s suspicious. Two break-ins. One deceased girl. But there are no real dots to connect. I need more substantial evidence. But since you’re a Flynn and I owe Wilder a solid, I’m going to do what I can, off the books, because Turtle Bay tax dollars won’t let this dog hunt. Her death was ruled an accident and it appears to be so. As far as this isolated incident, they’ll process everything. When I hear something, I’ll let you know.”
She clutched her chest. “Thank you. Off the books is fine.” Especially after what Leo said about a potential scandal.
The kitchen door swung open and Shep trudged inside. He shook his head. “He jumped in a van about three blocks up the beach. I didn’t have time to get the plates.” He spotted Detective Kensington and grinned. “Tom.”
“Shepherd. Good to see you again.” They shook hands, and Detective Kensington told Shep the same thing he’d told her. “You get much of a look at that van?” Tom asked.
“White van. Commercial. Guy was medium height. Hundred seventy pounds.” Shep rubbed the back of his neck. “I appreciate you looking into this quietly. Caley’s boss isn’t thrilled about what’s happening given the gala they have coming up. Scandal is a bad thing. So quieter is better until we can pinpoint what’s going on.”
Caley’s stomach dipped. Again, Shepherd had been paying attention to her needs and he was protecting not only her but her career. She wasn’t sure what to do with that.
“I understand. I’ll keep you posted. You do the same.” Tom shook Shepherd’s hand again. “You keeping busy since last time I saw you?”
“Fair amount.”
Tom chuckled and looked at Caley, jerking a thumb in Shepherd’s direction. “This guy right here? One of the craziest guys I ever met. Hard core. No fear.”
Caley swallowed hard. “I believe it,” she rasped. The exact kind of man she would never attach herself to. “I tend to like a quieter life.”
“Sorry things have shaken up for you,” Tom said. He glanced at Shepherd, whose neck had flushed. Was he angry at Tom’s words? “But this guy will keep you safe and I’ll do what I can on my end.”
Tom left with his report and Caley stared at Shepherd.
“I’m not reckless.” Shepherd’s voice came with a gravelly hard edge.
“I didn’t think you were, or that Tom implied that. I think he admires and respects you as a brave soldier.” She was thankful he was fearless. But while he wasn’t reckless, crazy meant going into dangerous missions with no fear of dying. No worries. No concerns. He had been point man for the Special Reaction Team in the Marine Corps. Yeah, she was familiar.
That’s why Wilder hired him right off the bat and bragged about Shep. He had experience in crisis situations. Terrorist attacks. Hostage situations. VIP protection. Out of the nine-member elite team, Shep was positioned at the front. Leading the entry element.
No fear of death. Of leaving a loved one behind. That nagged her. And it shouldn’t.
His jaw flexed. That had seriously rubbed him wrong. “How’s Miss Whittle?”
“I don’t know. I need to get to the hospital.” Her body felt like a waterlogged tree trunk, exhaustion seeping into every pore. What was happening to her perfect little world? Why was it crumbling like wet sand? Sunshine had turned to storm clouds. Torrential rains had fallen.
And she was falling apart.
“I’ll drive you over there. Go get cleaned up and—” he surveyed the disaster “—and I’ll start putting this back together.”
Right now what she needed wasn’t a fresh change of clothes. Or a clean house.
Right now, she needed...comfort. A hug from Dad or Wilder.
All she had was Shep.
He’d quickly proven he was able to protect her physically. But she needed emotional security and that wasn’t his strong suit.
“You hear me? You’ll feel better if you clean up.”
No. She wouldn’t. He was all she had right now. She inched toward him, his eyes narrowing further with each step. When she reached his personal space, he backed up.
Don’t run from me, soldier. She needed solace and safety from strong, able arms.
He backed up until the kitchen counter blocked his getaway.
She slipped her arms around Shep’s waist and rested her head on his chest, listening as his heart rate kicked up. Waiting for him to reciprocate.
A hug.
What she desperately needed.
His body went rigid.
“I know this isn’t part of your assignment, but I need physical contact, Shepherd. A hug. A pat. Whatever.”
Slowly, his arms encircled her. Awkward, but there. The warmth of his hands seeping through her T-shirt.
“And don’t say ‘there there’—just tell me everything is going to be fine.” She buried her face into his T-shirt, the smell of soap and total ruggedness rushing her senses. She inhaled and exhaled as his arms held her close.
“Everything’s gonna be fine.” His voice faltered but held enough confidence that she believed him. She pressed into his broad chest, like an iron wall that no one could penetrate. A force to be reckoned with. Here, sheltered by him, no one could touch her. And that brought more comfort than she was expecting. Dad and Wilder could make her feel safe and protected, but this...this was different. Terrifying. Exhilarating.
She clung to him.
He didn’t push her away. Didn’t tighten his grip on her either.
But he had her. He wasn’t letting go and that meant something. At some point, though, he would let go. He’d leave her. For a cruise. And that sent a ripple of fear down her spine. Someone was hunting for something she didn’t have. Someone who would keep coming. “Why would anyone think I have a single thing worth taking?”
“You were close to Mary Beth. She confided in you.”
True.
“And if he didn’t find what he was after that night in her dorm room, he may think you did.” His breath ruffled her hair.
“But Miss Whittle.” A hiccup escaped her lips and she pushed down tears as she fisted his shirt.
“I know.” His hands pressed in on her back, but didn’t move. Didn’t caress or offer any added solace. He wasn’t a comforter. He was a soldier.
Time to let him abort the mission. She broke the contact.
His eyebrows furrowed and he pursed his lips before shoving his hands in his pockets.
Caley put some distance between them. “We should go to the hospital. I can clean up later.”
“Roger that, Little Flynn.” He cleared his throat and clomped to the front door. Had she crossed a line? Was hugging her that unbearable?
“Shepherd, you’re doing all you can. You don’t feel guilty do you?” He’d noted that he’d failed her before. But he hadn’t.
“I’m fine. It’s 1815 hours. You need to eat. I’ll get you something at the hospital cafeteria.” He opened the door, waiting for her.
She glanced around the room one last time. How was she ever going to solve this nightmare when she didn’t have a single lead? And what would happen if the oxygen cylinder had been tampered with and each incident was linked? Nora Simms wouldn’t see tragedy. She’d see news media and scandal. She’d see donors pulling out and dollar signs slipping away along with her father’s legacy and life achievements. And Caley and Leo Fines would be out of a job they both adored. But she couldn’t put her career above the life of Mary Beth.
So why would anyone else?
* * *
Last night had been painfully long for Shep. It was easier for him to get in, accomplish the mission and move on to the next one. That’s how he’d been living his life since he’d joined the marines at eighteen. No need for feelings. Shut them off. Be a soldier.
But he never truly shut them off. Only shoved them down. All the resentment, anger, hurt from his childhood. The terror from war. The death tolls. The loss. Buried deep.
Until he’d given his life to Christ.
A weight had lifted, but even then Shep had made sure to keep the most painful things locked away. They were too hard to deal with and he wasn’t going to curl up in the fetal position and cry like a baby.
But when Caley wrapped her arms around him, burrowing against him...something had cracked loose. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he rubbed his chest hoping it would soothe the ache that thumped there.
It had throbbed all night as he sat in a waiting room chair while Caley had kept vigil at Miss Whittle’s bedside.
Didn’t look like Miss Whittle’s son needed to fly in, though he had offered. She had been cleared to come home this morning at 0900.
Now, Shep sat in one of Caley’s Adirondack chairs, holding the phone to his ear and waiting for his Alpha Charlie from Wilder. But he’d take his reprimand like a good soldier. He’d let some dude give him the slip. Twice. Meaning Caley was still a sitting duck.
Shep had been trained to take down an enemy. Didn’t matter if he wasn’t familiar with the landscape. He should have taken the guy to the ground, gotten answers and been on the cruise liner to the West Indies—the next mission. No feelings involved. Wilder answered and Shep gave him the rundown of events.
“So you have no leads? Nothing to give Tom?” Wilder asked. His voice remained calm. Too calm. Shep knew Wilder well enough to know it meant a storm was brewing underneath his tone.
Bearer of more bad news. “No. We have a theory.”
“Oh! A theory. Well, of course. That’ll solve this case.” Sarcasm. Wilder’s typical way to reply when he was frustrated. Welcome to the club, bro. “A theory is nothing more than a good guess. You aren’t going to find squat on a good guess.”
“You don’t say?” Shepherd bit the inside of his cheek. Wilder was his boss and his friend, but he didn’t need a further verbal bashing. He was beating himself up nice enough.
“And if this person thinks my baby sister has something—something that might hurt him—then he’s not through with her yet, Lightman.”
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know, Flynn. If you don’t think I’m capable, take me off the assignment.”
Wilder sighed. “It’s my sister. The only sister I have left, Shepherd. And I’m stuck clear across the world. I’m on edge.”
Apology accepted. But it nagged Shepherd that Wilder would have relieved him had he been in the country.
“You think the professor is shady?” Wilder asked, the brewing storm settling.
“Definitely. But your sister doesn’t. She thinks everyone is all lollipops and rainbows. She plans to talk to him later today.”
Wilder was quiet. “How old is this guy?”
“Don’t know. Mid-to late-fifties maybe.” What did that matter?
“You don’t think Caley is romantically involved with him, do you? That that’s why she’s so gung ho on his innocence?” Wilder asked.
Shep’s gut clenched. “No.”
“Mentorship can slip into hero worship, which can lead to a romantic relationship or denial of any wrongdoing on the mentor’s part.”
Shep rolled his eyes. “Let me guess. You’ve been talking with our resident headshrinker, Cosette.”
“Well, she’s right. It happens. It could be happening to my sister.”
Shep scratched the back of his neck. “She hasn’t acted like there’s anything more than mentorship.”
“But she’s naive, Shep. You basically said it yourself.”
No. What he’d said was that she saw the best in people which made her vulnerable, not naive. “I think it’s platonic, dude.”
“Good. She deserves a stand-up guy who will treat her right and not take advantage of her. And I plan to be the wall he’ll have to tear down to get to her. If there’s anyone good enough out there for her.” He chuckled. “Anything else?”
