Deep Waters

The passion in her voice held his attention captive along with the thirty other tourists hanging on every word. But he had to pull his thoughts away from her hypnotic voice and focus on the case and his plans to keep Caley protected if the intruder from last night returned. A possible murder wouldn’t stop Caley from her daily routine. Life had to go on. Just like in war. No way to make time freeze when a comrade had been lost. Fighting and protecting lives didn’t come to a standstill because people grieved. Caley wasn’t a solider like most of the Flynn family, but she was proving she was a fighter by standing here continuing with her spiel on sea turtles and not crawling into a hole to hide.

He admired that about her. Admired her brain. The woman was ridiculous smart. And gentle. Patient. Okay, this was not pulling his thoughts away. This was fixating on a woman who was so out of his league it wasn’t even funny. Back to the assignment.

The best working theory was Mystery Man wanted to stay hidden, which explained his motive to toss Mary Beth’s room, looking for a piece of evidence that would have exposed their relationship. But why kill her? Had she threatened to tell someone about them? Tracking down Mary Beth’s actions over the past few days was imperative, but no one seemed to know where she’d been.

Someone was lying.

Twelve interns working and living together day after day and no one could tell them where the girl went? Shep wasn’t buying that.

Caley finished her talk and handed the crowd off to another staff member and photographer. Tourists loved their pictures.

Caley shoved her glasses on the bridge of her nose—he could tighten those for her if she wanted—and strolled toward him. “Did I bore you?”

“No.” Boring would be the last adjective to describe Caley Flynn.

“You even listen?”

Had she wanted him to? “I know loggerheads can get up to three hundred pounds and fishing gear is their biggest threat because they can get caught in longlines.” He enjoyed the satisfaction of seeing mild shock on her face. Yeah. He listened. Hard not to.

But then she grinned and it sent a blip to his heartbeat. “Have you ever seen them swimming in their habitat? It’s amazing.”

“Maybe,” he said. “To be honest I wouldn’t know one turtle from the next, but I planned to do some diving off the cays. On my cruise. Now, I’ll know that the leatherback’s carapace is black with white splotches while the green turtle has a light or dark brown carapace. And it’s sometimes shaded with olive. Oh, and the carapace is the hard upper shell.”

Caley pulled her glasses off and studied him. Had he passed the test? Her narrowed eyes said she might be about to fail him. “Are you certified to dive, soldier?”

“Yes,” he said warily.

“Like navy good or just marines good?” A hint of teasing flickered in her eyes. Caley Flynn may not be military but the navy coursed through her veins by birth.

“Good enough not to need a babysitter.”

She glanced around. “I’ll tell you what. Since you’ve been such a trooper today, and I need to run out to one of the dive sites anyway, I’ll let my team and interns know I’m leaving and we’ll check some longlines, make sure no turtles are caught. Then we’ll do a little diving before coming back to shore. It’s a place Mary Beth and I dived—a favorite spot of hers. Maybe someone who runs the excursions might know something or has seen her diving with someone other than me or an intern.”

Shep saluted. “Okay.”

After one last tour at the aquatic center, Caley rustled Shep up a scuba suit, gear and tank. She drove to the marina and led him to the center’s boat. “All aboard,” she teased.

Shep dropped his scuba gear next to Caley’s and shook his head. Not only was her tank hot pink but her flippers and scuba suit had an equally pink stripe running down them. The ultimate girlie-girl.

“I see you pooh-poohing my gear, solider. It’s not a crime to love to pink.”

She cranked the engine and brought the boat to life, then guided them from the mainland out to sea. He’d give her a pass on the pink gear since she handled the boat like a boss. Wind on his face, sun warming his back, Shep was once again impressed. The taste of salt coated his lips and he licked them as they continued farther out, the sandy beaches becoming nonexistent.

He picked up the tank again, inspected it. Severe pink. “It should be a crime,” he insisted.

She raised her sunglasses on her head and studied him. “Are you joking? I can’t tell.”

He hollered over the buzz of the motor. “Yes, I’m joking.”

She slowed the boat down and they floated toward a huge longline—Shep had fished this way a few times. Attached to the line were baited hooks. Probably after halibut or swordfish. Bright orange buoys marked the spots.

“Fisherman will probably be back in the morning.” She suited up below deck, then came back up. Looking perfect in pink. “Just gonna take a quick look. Make sure no turtles are caught on the hooks. I’ll be up in five, ten minutes.”

He almost balked at her diving alone, but she was an expert and he trusted her.

She sat on the edge of the boat, and fell backward, gracefully, into the water. Shep watched until her hot-pink tank disappeared. In about six minutes, she surfaced. “No turtles. Let’s ride out to Soldier’s Reef.”

Back in the boat, she zipped across the water, smooth as glass, and toward the artificial reef. “We’re two hundred yards from shore. Only going down about forty feet, but, man, just you wait. It’s awesome.” Her eyes lit up and she didn’t waste any time as she increased the throttle until they arrived to their diving destination. “Gonna moor the boat and we’re good.”

She took a line and tied it to the cleat of the deck, then passed the other end through the eyebolt of the pickup line on the buoy before securing it to the second cleat. Something about the professionalism and quick way she worked...she wasn’t just a girl with her nose inside a turtle shell all day. There was even more to Caley Flynn than Shep had realized, and he happened to like it all. Way too much.

“I guess we’ll chat with the charter boats that bring tourists out after we dive?” he asked.

“That’s the plan,” she said as she grabbed her mask. “They’re all out on tours anyway.”

“Hey, where are your glasses?” He hadn’t seen her without them once.

“Contacts. I hate wearing them but I haven’t gotten around to getting a prescription diving mask.” She shrugged. “Well, let’s get this party started. Not to sound like a brochure but you’re about to see a spectacular site. This whole reef was built from waste. Like pipes, army tanks and even a navy WWII aircraft carrier.”

“Sounds interesting.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “It was created as a memorial to those who serve our country.” Her voice softened as she sat on the edge of the boat, back facing the water. “Like you.”

“Then I’m ready to see it, Little Flynn.” If he continued to call her that, he might remember how completely off-limits she was. Shep pulled his mask over his face, inserting his mouthpiece. Over the boat he fell, then flipped onto his stomach and a whole new world opened up. Sunlight filtered into the underwater paradise. Murky but gorgeous. Masses of spiky coral jutted north from the reef. Thousands of tiny silver fish maneuvered in the water.

Caley held up the okay sign with her hand and he signaled back. She pointed and swam like a regal dolphin as he trailed. A spotted eagle ray scurried from the sandy surface, stirring up the ocean floor. Caley skimmed the creature with her fingers.

He marveled at the array of colors. Like a living rainbow underneath here. Banana yellow, ruby red, neon blue, orange. One sight after another.

But the brightest, most enticing sight was in black and hot pink.

And it was the one creature down here, or above, he wanted to study most but couldn’t. Caley Flynn was everything he admired and that astonished him. He wished he could protect her from all that she’d seen in the last twenty-four hours, help her keep her innocence in a dark world.

A burst of emotion he’d never experienced—couldn’t even put a name to—flooded his chest, and he resolved right here, right now that he’d do everything in his power, work tirelessly, to find out what happened to Mary Beth Whaling. A need greater than he’d ever experienced burrowed into his marrow. A need to come through for this woman.

No matter the cost.

THREE

Caley 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.