The Crushing Depths

by Dani Pettrey

  Relief swept through him. That bond hadn’t been broken, and it was one he’d never break—no matter what it cost him. Trust was everything where they’d come from.

  A knock sounded on the wall inside the medical-bay door. “Agents, you still in here?” It sounded like Adam Jones.

  “They’re over there,” Chase said, his shadow stalking past their privacy curtain.

  “Stitches,” Adam said to Chase as his tall shadow stepped past. “Good thing you saw Karl.”

  “It was overkill and a lost hour of sleep,” Chase grumbled. “Are those dry clothes?”

  “Ed wanted—”

  Chase cut Adam off. “Just give me mine.”

  “He’s a peach,” Rissi whispered.

  Chase’s shadow stepped around Adam and stalked out of the door.

  “I’ll grab your clothes from Adam and give you privacy to get dressed,” Mason said.

  “Mason,” she said just as he grasped the edge of the curtain. “Thanks.” Her expression conveyed a depth of thanks for something far beyond a simple tending to. Had she been worried he’d bring up the scars he hadn’t seen before? Push her to discuss something she was clearly embarrassed about?

  But he’d never push. If she wanted to talk about it, she would, and he’d be there for her.

  “No problem,” he finally said, realizing he hadn’t responded. “I’ve stitched up many a wound.”

  Her gaze held him captive. “I remember.” The words were soft, quiet, and drenched in memories.

  “I’ll set your clothes out here on the counter,” Adam called. “Just have Karl radio us when you’re done here.”

  Mason’s gaze didn’t budge, and neither did Rissi’s.

  “Thanks,” they both said, their gazes still locked.

  Brooke grabbed the Barnes & Noble package from her front stoop and entered her house, excited about the latest Lee Child book’s arrival. She’d been wanting to dig in since it released last month. Though it was late, an hour of reading would be the perfect way to unwind after her hectic watch. But first she needed a hot bubble bath.

  She rolled her shoulders, then arched her back, working out the kinks. It’d been a long, rocky day into an even rockier night, and she was ready for some decompression.

  She hung her keys on the rack and stilled as she realized she stood in semidarkness. Only the street light shone across her entryway.

  Odd.

  She’d set the timer on the hook-shaped reading lamp beside her couch, always preferring to come home to a lit house.

  Stepping into the living room, she bent to check the timer but found it unplugged.

  Her muscles tensed. She definitely hadn’t unplugged it. She plugged it back in and clicked the lamp on. Light bathed the space in a soft glow.

  She lifted the pile of mail she’d left on the coffee table, needing to pull out the electric bill before she forgot to pay it.

  Flipping through the letters, she frowned. They were no longer in alphabetical order.

  She looked around her living room and froze as her gaze landed on the oval mirror. A chill raced up her spine.

  You hurt me. Now I hurt you.

  The words were written in all caps in rose-colored lipstick. Someone had been in her house.

  Her chest squeezed. Are they still here?

  She raced for the door, bolting across the lawn. Her feet squished in the rain-drenched grass that separated her house from Mrs. Peach’s. She hated to wake Mrs. Peach at this hour, but her instinct kicked in, and all she could focus on was getting out of the house.

  In the rush, she’d left her bag and therefore her keys and phone in the house. She’d have to use Mrs. Peach’s phone to call . . . Who? Gabby and Finn?

  Her heart skittered about her chest as she rang the doorbell. Would Mrs. Peach even come to the door in the middle of the night? Shadows danced behind every tree and car lining her street. She took a deep inhale. She was letting fear get to her. She looked back at Mrs. Peach’s dark house.

  Dare she ring again?

  Her heart ticked off the seconds. Fifty seconds later, a light came on and Mrs. Roxy Peach, her favorite neighbor, peered out the oval window glass on her door. “Brooke. Is that you, sweetheart?”

  Brooke nodded.

  Mrs. Peach flung open the door, and the sprightly sixty-something stood wide-eyed in a blue chenille zip-up bathrobe, fuzzy orange slippers, and pink-foam rollers.

  Try as she might to speak, all Brooke could do was stare.

  Roxy stepped forward. “What’s going on, honey?” Her gaze settled on Brooke, and lines spread out in spiderweb patterns from the corners of Roxy’s narrowed brown eyes. “Is something wrong, dear?”

  She finally managed the words. “Can I use your phone?”

  “Of course.” Roxy studied her. “Are you okay?”

  “No. Someone was in my house.” Perspiration beaded on Brooke’s forehead. “Still could be.”

  THIRTEEN

  Mason leaned against the counter, his arms folded across his chest. To get the closest fit possible, Adam had brought them what were basically track pants—black Nike pants with two white stripes down the side. Easier to fit and more comfortable than wet jeans. He was waiting for Rissi to finish so he could make sure she didn’t need anything before he swapped places with her to change.

  The privacy curtain drew back with a clink of metal, and she stepped out.

  He pushed off the counter, his gaze skimming over her, searching for any sign of injury he may have missed in all the commotion.

  Clad in an oversized gray T-shirt with Textra Oil stitched in bold white letters across it, she stepped toward him. She raked a hand through her still-damp hair, slipping it over her shoulders and twisting it into a loose braid. Her gaze narrowed. “You haven’t been examined yet.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Noah insisted. If we don’t both comply, he will order us back.”

  Mason let out a stream of air. “Okay.”

  “Hop on up.” Karl patted the exam table after rolling fresh paper across it.

  Mason complied but wasn’t happy about an unnecessary exam.

  “All right.” Karl began with his blood pressure and temperature, and then listened to his lungs. “You took quite an impact. Does anything hurt? Your back, head, or neck? Those are the usual areas we see injuries from that type of jolting impact.”

  “My neck is tight, but I’m sure it just jerked wrong. I’m fine.”

  Rissi linked her arms across her chest.

  “Fine,” Mason said, and Karl moved behind him to check.

  Placing his hands on Mason’s neck, he tipped his head gently forward, and his neck cracked.

  He ran his thumbs along Mason’s cervical spine. “You’ve got a misaligned disc. I can put it back in place.”

  “Go for it,” Mason said. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner they could start investigating. And truth be told, his neck smarted.

  With his okay, Karl maneuvered his head forward, then back. “Look to your left.”

  Mason did so.

  “There it is. Okay, I’m going to use a form of manual therapy where I do spinal manipulation. It shouldn’t hurt at all.”

  “Okay.”

  Karl maneuvered Mason’s neck just so, and the pain shooting through it ceased.

  “Try moving your head now.”

  Mason followed the pattern Karl instructed, moving his head front to back, then side to side. It moved effortlessly, without pain. “Good job, Karl. I’m impressed.”

  Karl smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Now,” Rissi said. “Go change. You need to get out of those damp clothes.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, hopping down. Rissi always possessed a defiant will, but now it’d shifted to one of perseverance, with a good dose of stubbornness tossed in. He liked her confidence, loved seeing her happy and without fear always lurking in her beautiful eyes.

  Stepping into the other exam area, he changed his clothes, and
tucking his damp ones under his arm, pulled back the curtain to find Rissi already talking with Karl. She really didn’t waste any time getting on with an investigation. He smiled. They were still very much alike.

  “And what’s the first thing you remember happening?” she asked.

  Karl ran a hand through his wavy blond hair. “The fire alarm blaring.”

  “Okay,” Rissi said. “And then?”

  “Then Adam radioed down that there’d been a flash fire on deck and one of our men was badly injured. I hauled my butt topside ASAP.”

  “Speaking of hauling butts,” Adam said from the doorway, looking from Mason to Rissi. “Your boss is on the phone, and he’s none too happy.”

  Rissi gave Mason a clenched smile. “I forgot to call.”

  “Yeah,” Adam said, leaning against the doorframe. “You wanna follow me?”

  “I’ll go,” Mason said. “You keep talking with Karl.”

  “Not an option.” Adam shook his head. “Your boss insisted he speak with both of you.”

  Rissi’s shoulders tensed.

  Mason paused. The girl had been in a copter crash, had a bruised rib and a gash on her shoulder that had needed stitches. None of that had fazed her. What on earth did that say about their impending call with Noah?

  Needing some room to pace without the rest of his team watching him, Caleb opted to head home with Noah’s promise that he’d call as soon as he received any updates.

  He tried not to think of Rissi and the fact she could have died tonight. Or the fact that he’d regret not telling her how he felt.

  He’d waited too long to express his feelings for her, missed his chance—if it had ever existed.

  It might be a defeatist attitude, but it was simple reality. He was about facts, and the fact was she cared about him, but not in a romantic way. It’d only been a couple of months since his feelings had shifted from friendship to romantic love. He’d hoped her feelings would shift, too, if he just gave her some time, but he now realized they never would.

  His hope, no matter how thin at times, had held out, but it ceased to exist the day Mason Rogers reappeared in her life.

  A man she’d never mentioned to him but clearly knew well.

  Pressure weighted his chest until taking a breath became laborious.

  Whenever Mason walked into a room, Rissi’s eyes widened, and a smile Caleb hadn’t known she possessed broke out on her face. He’d never made her smile like that.

  The way she’d looked at Mason said it all. She loved him.

  Caleb took a deep breath and released it. He needed to get his head straight. Focus. Compartmentalize his thoughts and, most importantly, his feelings.

  FOURTEEN

  After Mason talked to Noah, he handed the phone to Rissi.

  “The medic cleared you too?” Noah asked as commotion swirled around Rissi in the control room.

  She looked at Mason and smiled. “Yep. I was checked out by a medic.”

  Mason smiled back.

  “And you were cleared to continue with the investigation?” Noah asked, his tone not wavering in seriousness.

  She rocked up on the balls of her feet. “Yes.”

  “Did he find any injuries?”

  “A cut on my shoulder needed stitches, and I have a bruised rib. But, as with all bruised ribs, it’ll just need to heal on its own. I have an ice pack and over-the-counter painkillers if I need them, but I’m doing fine.”

  Noah exhaled. “Okay. Now, tell me the truth.”

  “All right.” He didn’t need to stipulate. He knew she wouldn’t lie to him. She never lied. That was her mother, not her.

  “Are you positive you’re up to continuing? Because if not—”

  “I’m positive.”

  Noah paused, no doubt rubbing his chin. “All right, you two proceed with the investigation. Call when you’ve wrapped up, and we’ll send a Coast Guard copter to pick you two up and Barnes’s body.”

  The thought of getting back on a copter did not sit well, but the rational CGIS agent in her recognized the chances of another malfunction were next to zero. “Will do,” she said.

  They’d be the next link in the chain of custody for transporting Barnes’s body back to Medical Examiner Ethan Hadley.

  “Caleb headed home about a half hour ago, but I know he’s going to want to hear from you. Give him a call on his cell, would you?”

  “Of course.” Poor Caleb. He must be sick with concern. She should have thought about calling him and Noah from the Freedom, but their time aboard had been busy and short.

  “Oh, and, Ris,” Noah said.

  “Yeah?” She leaned against the counter.

  “The NTSB is going to want to talk to you when you arrive back on shore.”

  “Absolutely.” She was glad the National Transportation Safety Board was so thorough an investigative agency. She wanted to know why the helicopter had gone down. She was confident it hadn’t been Max’s fault. Something else had gone wrong. And she wanted to know what.

  “They’ve already had one of their copters fly over the area where you went down. First thing tomorrow, they’re diving down to locate the wreckage.”

  “Okay.” She prayed they managed to find Max’s body, at least for closure for his family, but the chances of him not being pulled far from the wreckage by the current were little to none.

  “Take care. Both of you,” Noah said.

  “We will.” Disconnecting, she dialed Caleb. He answered on the first ring. “Eason.”

  She slipped a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Hey.”

  “Hey, Ris. You actually okay? Not fine like you usually say when you’re not?”

  “I’m okay.” And then, after a probing pause on his end, she added, “Really.”

  “I don’t like the situation.”

  “I know.” The only question was which part he objected to more—her health, which of course he cared about, or that she and Mason were paired together thirty-eight miles out to sea?

  Speaking of Mason, she looked up to find him . . . observing her. That was probably the best word to describe his level of focus. He was watching her as she had him earlier, only he wasn’t gawking as she so embarrassingly had.

  “I’ll be fine.” She caught herself. “I mean, I’m good. I promise.” A little bruise never hurt anyone. Compared to some of the wallops she’d taken, this was nothing.

  “I’d rather you come in and let a doc at the ER check you out.”

  “I know, but I’ve been checked thoroughly.”

  “How do you know the medic is any good?”

  “He did a great job.”

  A smile tugged at Mason’s lips.

  “Okay,” Caleb said, followed by a momentary pause. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I will. I better get started with the investigation. Get some sleep.”

  “Take care,” he said.

  “You too. Bye.”

  “Bye.” His tone was reluctant, but he hung up.

  She did the same and strode back to Mason’s side. “We’re good to go,” she said to Adam, who stood on Mason’s left. “Let’s get this investigation underway.”

  “Where do you want to start?” Adam asked.

  “With Ed giving us a tour to review what happened, where, and when.”

  “I can do that,” Ed said from the control panel. “I just have to finish running a systems check and convince the Chemical Safety Board that we’re safe to resume with production. Can you give me fifteen?”

  “Sure,” Mason said. He turned to Rissi. “How about we start with the body?”

  “Good idea. That’ll give Ed the time he needs.”

  “I’ll come find you in the medical bay when I’m done,” Ed said, his hand covering the receiver. “Greg’s body is in the auxiliary freezer. It’s the closest thing we have to a morgue-type thing.”

  Out of sight was smart. Between the supposed curse, a coworker’s death, and a downed helicopter, the crew had p
lenty to freak them out—and a lot to question.

  FIFTEEN

  Returning to the medical bay, they found Karl at a small desk, if the word desk qualified. It was actually just a chunk of Formica countertop attached to the wall.

  Karl looked up and swiveled around on the three-legged stool to face them.

  “I was just putting my notes in order,” he said. “It’s been a hectic night.”

  That was putting it mildly.

  “Thanks for taking time to talk with us.”

  Karl slipped his rimless glasses on top of his wavy hair. Definite Scandinavian ancestry with his light hair and skin and blue eyes—though she’d seen many a Scandinavian with green eyes, brown hair, and narrower nose.

  “Happy to be of assistance,” he said. “Do you want to pull up a chair?” He dipped his head toward the four muted-rose plastic chairs with silver frames. It reminded Rissi of the chairs in the nurse’s office at school, way back before her mom had ditched her.

  “Allow me,” Mason said, grabbing two chairs and carrying them over.

  “Thanks,” she said as he set one down for her and then followed suit for himself.

  Karl crossed his arms. “What would you like to know?”

  “You said the first thing you heard was the fire alarm?” Rissi began.

  “Yes.”

  “What time would you say this happened?”

  Ed would give them the time log, but it was always good to ask each individual. You never knew what would come up or what deviations might arise.

  “Right about 1930,” Karl said.

  “What were you doing when it went off?” Mason asked.

  “Watching Jeopardy! First round. That’s how I know what time it was.”

  “That’s helpful,” Mason said, jotting it down with the pen and notebook Ed had provided them.

  Everything except the clothes on their backs was lost to the sea.

  “What did you do when the alarm went off?” Mason asked.