“And the floating lawn chair?”
“For breathing exercises. And those last deep breaths before he goes down.”
“They’ve got the underwater cameras set up,” Katie said excitedly.
Tam glanced at the monitors, but for the most part kept her eyes on the diver in the water.
“He can slow his heart rate to ten beats per minute with breath holds,” Captain Harris informed her.
“Mammalian diving reflex,” she said absently. But ten beats? The man had control. “How deep will he be going?” she asked.
“The men’s constant ballast world record is 267 feet. Prince has already reached 270 feet in an unofficial dive,” Captain Harris said. “Today he’s going for a flag at 274 feet.”
“What about the current world record holder? I bet he’s pretty disappointed about this attempt.”
“I imagine the retired Captain Prince is feeling pretty proud of his son right about now. He and his wife are watching online. There’ll be a few seconds delay, but they’ll see history in the making.”
“His father?” Tam moved closer to the starboard side as Bowie went through his deep-breathing exercises. She aimed the video camera at him, surprised at the envy she felt. He and his father had a shared hobby, a shared life.
She didn’t know what traits or interests she shared with her father. But she’d forged tentative bonds with the man who could help her find him.
She lowered the camera and reached up to encircle his dog tags in her hand. And found herself breathing right along with him. Her heart rate slowed, sixty, fifty, forty beats…
“Ready,” the petty officer said, directing everyone’s attention toward the screen.
Tam filled her lungs with a deep breath before he jackknifed into the dive. Powerful, thrusting kicks propelled his descent along the ballast line. Thirty, sixty, ninety seconds later, 270 feet.
“Ladies,” the petty officer announced. “No man has ever gone deeper.”
She felt the dog tags bite her palm as she silently urged him on. He grabbed the tag at 274 feet, turned and started his ascent. Three minutes into the dive she finally let out the breath she’d been holding as he broke through the surface and his body received the oxygen it craved.
He gave the thumbs-up sign and the crowd started to cheer. Tam would have, but she noticed Bowie was having trouble getting to the boat. When the medical and safety divers beside him began to drag him from the water her hands went cold, but the petty officer explained that was normal as during the dive the body had directed oxygen-rich blood away from his limbs and to his vital organs.
So there he was a few hundred yards away on another boat. And all she could do was wave to him in the distance.
1900 Friday
THE BEACH; NAVAL AIR FACILITY
Sand Island, Midway Islands
AFTER THE INITIAL EUPHORIA wore off, Bowie had taken a well-deserved three-hour nap to go with his record-breaking three-minute dive. He woke rejuvenated and ready to join the party.
He’d changed into a pair of loose-fitting khaki shorts and a wild print shirt that he could only assume would go with anything in his closet.
The eighty Seabees in his detachment, Coast Guard members from the dive boats and USNS Bob Hope merchant marines were out in full force when Bowie’s sandals kicked up sand on the beach. It was the one place on the island where gooney birds didn’t build a nest every few feet.
“Why is it always the guys with the biggest bellies and the hairiest chests who put on the grass skirts and coconut bras?” McCain asked, handing Bowie an ice-cold beer.
“Because the rest of us have better sense.”
“I noticed you didn’t wear your man skirt to the party. Good call.”
“It’s a sarong. They’re gender neutral.”
“Some commissioned salesgirl sell you that idea?”
“Something like that.” Bowie scanned the crowd.
“She’s manning the barbecue with Rusty.” McCain pointed in the general direction with his bottle.
“Master Chief Cohen, the man who perfected the two-handed burger flip, let someone else near the grills?”
McCain shrugged. “Guess he’s feeling paternal tonight.”
“This I’ve got to see.” Bowie chugged his beer, then tossed the bottle before heading over to the cooking duo.
Rosy-cheeked and perspiring from the heat, Tam manned a grill under the watchful eye of the master chief. He’d put her in charge of the hot dogs.
She laughed at something Rusty said. “Oh, I haven’t laughed so much since—” She caught sight of Bowie and switched to Vietnamese.
Rusty chuckled. “I think you’ve earned your dinner now. Why don’t you fix a couple of those hot dogs for you and the lieutenant?”
They both laughed louder at that. But she put her cooking utensils aside and met Bowie with a full plate.
She wore a simple pair of khaki shorts and a pink tank top.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
“I just shared our little hot dog incident.”
He cocked a brow. “It wasn’t that funny.”
“I guess you had to be there,” she said, leading the way to the shaded tables laden with condiments. They divvied up the dogs and loaded their plates.
“I was there, remember?”
“I may have elaborated just a little.”
“Are you sure you don’t mean exaggerated?” he asked as they found an empty corner of a table. “What can I get you to drink? We’ve got beer from around the globe. But trust me, stay away from the Ba Muoi Lam.”
“I’ll try.” She smiled up at him. “A diet soda is fine.”
Heading toward the nearest ice-filled drum, Bowie glanced over his shoulder. She’d been hanging around him too long. That sounded like innuendo.
But trust me, stay away from the “playboy.”
I’ll try.
He returned just in time to head off the swarm of drones descending on the queen. “I can’t leave you alone for a minute.”
“The odds are in a gal’s favor around here. I would have left earlier, but the master chief took me under his wing. And I really did want to congratulate you on your dive today. I’m sure you’ve heard it a hundred times already, but that was amazing.”
“Thanks,” he said, feeling his chest swell. “I never get tired of hearing it.” Not from her.
“I was wondering if you’d let me, or Will, rather, since he’s the techno wizard, post some of your dive footage to my cyber classroom. I’ve never featured a person before, but I had this idea of working it in with some information about aquatic sea mammals.”
“I’m sure that could be arranged.”
“I’d also like to interview you about the experience, if it’s not too much of an intrusion?”
“We could make a deal. I have maps and blueprints for the entire island, but I’d really like a guided tour. Things are going to settle down around here by Tuesday, when the ship will be gone. Think we could get together then?”
“I’ll clear my calendar.”
They talked until their food became cold and the tiki torches and bonfire blazed. He’d tuned out the rest of the world and simply focused on her face.
Tam was enjoying Bowie’s company, but the volume of the party had increased in direct proportion to the amount of alcohol consumed. And when the Seabees started to mix the jungle juice she decided it was time to leave.
“I think I’m going to call it a night.” She pushed to her feet and disposed of their plates.
“I’ll walk you home,” he offered.
“That really won’t be necessary. I know the way.”
“I’m headed in that direction,” he insisted. “If you say no, I’m just going to follow you, anyway. I want to make sure that you get home safe.”
She realized she’d probably lock her doors and windows tonight, something she hadn’t felt the need to do before, and that took some of the enjoyment from her evening.
&
nbsp; “Okay.”
“After you.” He made a sweeping gesture.
“I thought you were headed in that direction?”
“I am. I just don’t know the way.” Was he using that silver tongue to tell her to take the lead? That he’d cover her back? Or would he run for cover when things heated up?
He grabbed two beers and handed her one. She took it and started home along the beach, though it wasn’t the most direct path. Soon the party noises faded enough for them to hear the sound of the rushing water and clapping beaks again.
“What projects do you think you’ll start with?”
“The runways are a priority. The night we met I learned firsthand that they’re in bad shape. The drainage ditches alongside are backed up. I stepped up to my knees in muck.”
She processed this bit of information. “That’s why your pants were wet and your boots were dry.” So he wasn’t the one who’d left the footprint on Eastern.
“I had a spare pair….” he trailed off. “Is that why you thought I’d been to Eastern Island?”
“Well, somebody left a footprint.”
“Footprint? Someone from the island?”
“No, there’s really nothing over there. A couple of runways, a fuel depot and a few historical sites. Of course, you probably know that. But that’s where I get my best turtle and seal footage.”
“I don’t want you back over there until I’ve had the chance to check it out.”
Tam stopped to face him. “Don’t be silly, it’s my job to catch poachers.” Not that she was convinced it was a poacher’s print. When she’d returned to Eastern the following day, nothing had been taken. Which was why she’d figured it had to be him.
“Do you want me to make it off limits?”
She put her hands on her hips. “I don’t take orders from you.”
“Let’s compromise,” he offered. “Take someone with you. If I’m available I’ll go. If not, I’ll find someone who is.”
“Fair enough.”
“You’re not just agreeing to shut me up?”
“No, your request is reasonable,” she said, cutting inland. They reached the road that wound around the neglected Navy housing units. For the most part, those living and working on the island chose to stay in the military barracks. But she’d preferred the privacy of the houses.
“Look at this place,” he said. “It’s a whole other world.” Overgrown lawns and gardens were starting to obscure most of the units. Soon it would be difficult to find any evidence of them. “If you’re living in this neighborhood, I gotta tell you the resale value on your house is zilch.”
“It’s not like I invested a lot of money in the place.”
“Of course not,” he agreed. “You’re squatting.”
“I have to live somewhere.”
“I never said you couldn’t, only that I think you should let me check it out. Uncle Sammy wouldn’t like it if I let one of his houses fall down on you.”
“That one’s mine.” She didn’t have to tell him. He would have been able to pick it out by the mowed lawn and neat gardens—vegetables in the back, hibiscus and bird of paradise in the front with bougainvillea climbing the porch. “See, nothing to worry about.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that. It is my job, after all.”
Tam followed him around her house. The front and back porch lights were on but provided little light. Occasionally he’d pause to look at something more carefully. He seemed to concentrate on the foundation and the roof. When they reached her front porch again, he asked, “Roof leaking at all?”
“Only when it rains.”
“If I’m not mistaken, it does that every day around here.” He didn’t even crack a smile.
“There’s one, maybe two leaks at the most.” She sat down on her stoop to finish her beer.
He joined her. “All right, we’ll leave it open to further discussion at a later date.”
“Agreed,” she said, and steered him toward another topic. “I forgot to ask, what did your dad think of your breaking his record?”
He looked at her in surprise. “We only exchanged a quick, very public phone call. Local media covered the dive on his end. I’ll probably call home later tonight.” He checked his watch. “Which is morning in Florida.”
“I’ll bet he would have liked to have been here, though.”
“Probably. He helped Harris with the details, arranged for the judges. But he gave me space to breathe because he wanted me to succeed. You know I could’ve just as easily failed.” He gave her a sideways glance, then studied the bottle in his hand when she didn’t say anything right away. “I was glad you were there to share that moment with me.”
“I was glad I could be there,” she admitted, touching his shoulder. He turned to her, but she pulled away. “You know I still have something of yours.”
“My bird?”
“That, too. You should come see him.” She transferred his dog tags from her neck to his.
He sat back expectantly for moment, then took a swig from his beer. “You know that’s the third time we’ve exchanged something without a kiss.”
If they counted his knife, her gun, his bird, it was more than that.
“Have you found out anything about my father?”
“Not much. Not yet.” He took a swig of beer.
She accepted his answer because she didn’t have any other choice. She pushed to her feet “It’s late, I’m going to call it a night.”
“Night.” He stood and watched her all the way to the door. “I still don’t like the way this porch sags,” he said when she reached for the handle. “You should stay somewhere else tonight—”
“Now, what kind of example would that be for your men? Good night, Lieutenant.”
She waved and could hear his good-natured laughter as she stepped inside and slammed the door for good measure. She leaned against the door and sighed. The house sighed with her. Then groaned. Then heaved.
And then there was a horrific sound of collapse. She opened the door and had to wave away the dust. Her porch was now on the ground. The lieutenant stood out of harm’s way, just beyond the bottom step.
“You did this!” she accused.
“Do you think I’m going to bring a house down with you inside?” He held his hand out to her and helped her over the pile of shingles and debris. “You’re not staying here tonight. And that’s an order.”
“You can’t give me orders.”
“Try me.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. He was right. She couldn’t stay with the house like this. “All right, just let me pack a suitcase and get my toothbrush.”
“No.” This time she was inclined to listen to him. “I’ll send someone for your things in the morning.”
“I had three, maybe four leaks at the most,” she mumbled, her glazed eyes transfixed on her house as he dragged her up the road. It was only when she could no longer see it that she realized he still held her hand.
BOWIE HAD DROPPED Tam off at Flynn’s door. Before he’d left she had asked for a toothbrush, any toothbrush. So he’d set out on a mission to find one. He could have gone back to her house, he supposed, but he’d rather traverse that by the light of day.
On the way back to his office he called his parents on his cell phone.
“Morning,” his mother’s cheerful voice answered.
“Not here it isn’t.”
“Let me put you on speaker phone. It’s Bowie,” she said to his dad. They talked for a few minutes about the dive, but that wasn’t what he’d called about. He’d expected his mom to raise hell about not returning her call last week, but she didn’t, though she did take him by surprise.
“So who’s the lucky lady?”
“What?” He stumbled on the dark path and stopped to better concentrate on his call.
“Your sister said you sent Mariah the most adorable muumuu. We both know you didn’t pick it out, maybe the T-shirt for
Aaron, but not the muumuu. So who is she?”
“My personal shopper?”
“Good one, son,” his dad said, taking up his side.
“Actually, she’s the reason I called. That, and I kind of wanted to talk about some stuff going on with the company. But first I want to know how you two managed to stay together all those years dad was away from home.”
“You must be serious,” his mother teased. Then launched into a long speech about commitment and relationships. As she rambled on and his dad occasionally added his opinion, Bowie realized it was their shared sense of humor and purpose that had kept them married and in love.
Bowie propped himself up against a nearby tree and listened.
He’d spent years with guys who cheated on their wives or girlfriends and married and divorced at the drop of a hat. They were good, hardworking guys. Guys he’d trust with his life, but not his money or his wife. And he’d seen the other side, too. The wives weren’t always waiting when the guys got home.
He simply did not want any part of that.
But then there were the others. Guys like the master chief, who’d spent his last dime for a few days in Hawaii with his wife. Or Milton, who’d asked Bowie to find a way around the no-leave policy because his wife was due to deliver their first baby.
And then Bowie started to long for something he didn’t have.
“You did say she was the reason you called,” his mother reminded him. “We want to hear all about the girlfriend.”
“Friend,” he corrected her, it felt safer. “I’m doing a friend a favor. Dad, she’s Amerasian and never knew her father. She has his picture, though. And I sure as hell recognized him. It’s Skully—Rob Stevens. Before I tell her I need to know why he left her and her mother behind in Vietnam. Then maybe I can help bring them together. I just can’t figure it out, it seems so out of character with everything you’ve ever told me about the man.”
Neither of his parents said a word.
“Dad?” Bowie urged.
“Bowie,” his mother said. “Are you sure Rob Stevens is this girl’s father?”
“Impossible,” his father said. “Xang killed Skully’s wife and son.”
Midway Between You and Me (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 13
