When she’d gone in, he’d reminded her, “Hey, I’m not a spring chicken anymore!”
And she had called back, “Just another old rooster running around Key West.” She adored her dad.
He’d grinned, but he had been serious, too. He was ready to head home.
Where was Anita? Had she gone up without her?
Yes. Katie was going to be in serious trouble. She hadn’t been paying attention to her dive buddy.
Quickly, get up there and face it.
She was generally a good kid. She was an excellent student. Most of her friends were boy crazy. She had nothing against boys, especially cute ones, but her interest in Brad was levelheaded. She never let liking him interfere with her family or school.
Surely her parents would bear all this in mind.
The boat had been anchored by one of the reefs in about thirty feet of water. There was no reason to worry about coming right up: she hadn’t been deep enough to need to decompress. And so she followed the anchor line to the rear of the boat, removing her mask as she arrived and tossing it onto the little dive platform, detaching her regulator and doing the same with it.
She figured her father might be there, or her mother, or even Anita. They would be staring at her angrily, perhaps with their hands on their hips. They wouldn’t scream or yell; they would just announce the consequences for her behavior.
But there was no one anywhere near the dive platform.
“Hey!” she called, banging against the edge of the platform as a wave took her unexpectedly.
Still, no one arrived.
She had, of course, learned to remove all her equipment—and put it all back on—while in the water as part of her training. She removed her tank and buoyancy-control device and flippers, setting them atop the platform, too. Then she crawled up the little two-step ladder.
That was when she first saw the blood.
A spatter of small, diluted drops on the dive platform. It couldn’t be blood. Or maybe it was fish blood. That had to be it. A fish. Except her parents didn’t go fishing. Maybe those other people had wanted to fish. The doctor—Neil Browne. Or his girlfriend, Jennie whatever. And her folks might have complied. They weren’t against responsible fishing, they just didn’t care to fish themselves.
“Hey!” she called again.
Nothing.
Then it came over her—a sensation of pure dread and terror. She had to force herself to move on from the platform to the deck. She looked up the four steps to the helm of the boat. There was no one at the wheel.
But the deck, leading to the cabin below, was covered with blood. Not thick but diluted blood, as if someone had thrown down buckets of water, or as if there had been a storm that had ravaged all aboard...
“Mom! Dad! Anita! George!”
Compelled though terrified, she walked down the steps to the cabin. Blood. Everywhere. As if a slew of razor-sharp propellers had ravaged the cabin, tearing into flesh and bone and...
Bodies.
Lying at unnatural angles. So still.
She started to scream and scream.
She backed away from the blood and bodies, not able to look away or see where she was going. Her legs caught on the edge, and she fell over the hull, back into the warm embrace of the Atlantic. The water wrapped around her; she was in such shock that it felt good, it felt right. Just let the water take her along with the darkness that was engulfing her...
She heard a dim whisper in that darkness. A man’s voice, soft with a bit of a burr.
“Nay, lass, nay. Life is never easy, but death be not the answer for ye!”
She had lost her mind or she had died—despite his words about death not being the answer. Because she seemed to be looking at a powerful old man in the depths, a fellow with a full beard and mustache and flowing white hair. He was shirtless but wearing some strange kind of pants, beige, tied on with rope and cut off at the ankles.
She would have screamed if she wasn’t ten feet down.
Then she wasn’t down any longer. She was never sure if he pushed her or if her own instinct for survival kicked in.
She thrust up with a scissor motion of her legs, still hearing the strange man’s whisper—in her mind. It had to be in her mind.
“Radio! Use the radio. The Coast Guard is near.”
She stumbled back up the dive platform. Now, despite the warmth of the water and the day, she felt cold. Bone-cold—and numb. She stepped over the blood—or through it—she didn’t even know. She never looked down.
She moved straight to the radio and called for the Coast Guard.
Even as she spoke, desperately, somehow managing to share her position, darkness seemed to descend around her.
Once someone had assured her that help was on the way, she stumbled back down to the cabin, reaching out to touch her dead mother’s hair.
CHAPTER ONE
Twelve Years Later
“You must think I’m terrible, hiring you to spy on my husband,” Wendy Lawrence said, her back stiff as she leaned forward entreatingly. “I just... Well, you see, the family money is his, and that makes him think he can do anything he wants. His family owns five of the finest restaurants between here and Biloxi, and...”
Wendy was an attractive woman, a tiny brunette with striking dark eyes and hair, but though Dan Oliver was willing to take her money—investigating was what he did—he wasn’t looking forward to continuing with the assignment.
Wendy did not come from money, and there was nothing wrong with that. But her husband, Nathan Lawrence, seemed to be an okay guy. He was a high school teacher specializing in history, civics and government. Dan had already started watching him for Wendy, and the wildest thing the man had done so far was sponsor a high school trip to the zoo.
“Wendy, I need to tell you,” Dan said, “I’ve followed him after school every day for a week now. He’s gone home. I don’t know what has made you think he...that he might be using you, cheating on you, and staying married to keep his money.”
“I saw the text on his phone. You are truly the best. Thank you! Loved my time with you!”
Dan shook his head. “I hung around at the café by the school, too. I’m pretty sure that was from one of his students.”
Wendy sat back in horror. “A student! Oh, my God!”
“No, no, Wendy. Students might well have a distant crush on a teacher like that. I didn’t say your husband was acting wrongly in any way. I think that text might have been from Lily Levan, one of his honor students, and it was innocent—a thank-you for the help he gave her filling out forms. She’s in line for a few scholarships, but the paperwork on them can be overwhelming.”