Alaskan Mountain Pursuit

by Elizabeth Goddard

  “Are you?” he asked. “We’re going in for one thing only. The thumb drive that will bring justice for our mothers and end the threat on your life. Our lives. Let’s agree that we won’t look at the bodies. We’ll get the drive and get out.”

  “And get as far away as we can from this place. I don’t want to face off with Diverman or his accomplice again. The next time I see him, I want him and Rifleman to be in a lineup.”

  Sylvie directed him to where she’d anchored before. They would start there in their search. She checked their tanks and equipment while Will secured the boat. She then gave him a quick review to refresh his skills.

  Where was their backup? If anything happened to Sylvie, they would never forgive Will. Not that that would matter. He would likely be dead already because he would give his life to make sure that Sylvie lived. After they layered and geared up to look like aliens, they hung over the port gunwale, ready to drop backward into the water.

  This was the only reason he would ever dive again.

  He had to make sure that Sylvie lived.

  * * *

  Despite her experience, Sylvie had never been more nervous in her life. She readied the mask, holding it over her head, and eyed Will, searching for any sign of fear in his warm eyes. Any reason at all to object to him coming along. He’d already donned his mask and watched her.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “As I’ll ever be.” He winked then thrust the regulator into his mouth before rolling back into the cold water.

  Once she joined him, she watched him for signs of panic then gave him a thumbs-up. He reciprocated. From here on out, they’d have to communicate with hand signals. She dove beneath the surface and flutter-kicked. The water was only about twenty feet deep here but would get deeper. She was aware of the currents and underwater topography in the area.

  Will was next to her, and it felt good and right. Side by side they headed toward the place where she’d seen the glint of metal, what could have been the lost plane.

  Or part of it. Sylvie’s heart jumped. She didn’t like to think about what they might find. She’d been on enough tragic recoveries. Some couldn’t stomach it.

  Visibility was between thirty and forty feet. She would have preferred eighty but not the colder waters of winter that would provide it. Following the same path she’d taken the first time, she pushed them north from the island, searching for the remnants of that shipwreck turned artificial reef. It was just beyond that reef where she’d seen the glint.

  The reef came into view. She lingered there for a moment so she and Will could take in the abundance of sea creatures, starfish and anemones. Will pointed at the giant tube worms. Sylvie wished this could have been a joy dive with Will, exploring the sea life for the simple pleasure of it. She doubted she could ever get Will to join her for something like that. It cost him to come with her as it was.

  Their relationship had been forged out of necessity and a common goal. Should she even call it a relationship? Why was she thinking about a long-term future with Will? She shook off the thoughts and surged ahead, but then slowed and turned to check on him. She couldn’t forget he hadn’t been diving in too many years. Common sense, along with her years as an instructor, warned her he shouldn’t be in the water with her. But technically, she could offer no reason, even though there was a great abyss between certified and prepared. He was certified, and that was that.

  She had to stop thinking about him and focus on the area she thought she’d spotted part of a plane.

  And there it was...the wing of a small plane. Sylvie almost gasped at the sight.

  Breathe. Steady and even.

  Will’s eyes grew wide. Did he recognize the wing? Could this be part of the plane that went down?

  He swam closer to examine it. When he glanced back at her, his features were grim behind the mask. He gave a subtle nod. Sylvie took that to mean that this could be the wing from his mother’s plane. So it had broken apart on impact? Or...had there been an explosion? Was that what caused the crash?

  Sylvie couldn’t stand to think of that possibility, or of what they might find.

  Of what they wouldn’t find.

  The wing was here, but the plane could be much farther, and could be spread in pieces. She would look for a scatter pattern. If the fuselage wasn’t intact, that meant they might never find the bodies.

  Or the thumb drive.

  Her heart rate accelerated. Maybe she wasn’t the right one for this task, but she and Will were the only ones. She swam forward and floated next to the sheer wall of a deep crevasse. More sea anemones clung to the wall, and down much deeper, eighty feet or so, Sylvie guessed the plane might rest. It could be spread out, or have tumbled a few hundred more feet from the wing.

  She thought she might get sick. Throw up. Now wasn’t the time to think of her mother’s terror. Sylvie couldn’t afford to lose it. She couldn’t let herself crumple or let racking sobs take over. She steeled herself, imagining this was just another recovery dive. But she’d only thought she had nerves of steel, as Will had said.

  She had no choice but to see this through. She glanced at her dive watch, the computer relaying time and temperature, complete with a tissue-loading graph, to reassure her they had time to search and time enough to ascend. Then she signaled to Will.

  They were going deeper.

  Sylvie guessed at the trajectory and swam toward where the remainder of the plane could rest. Why was the plane here, so far off track, when it had been headed to Mountain Cove?

  Sylvie turned to make sure Will followed her and spotted him about ten feet away. Her heart palpitated at the distance between them. They had to stick together. He turned to look at her and then pointed. She glanced to where he gestured, but couldn’t see what had drawn his attention. Sylvie swam toward him, planning to close the distance, but he swam ahead of her, leading her on.

  Something told her that he’d found the downed plane.

  God, I’m not ready for this. Help me!

  Will paused and turned back to face her, features pale behind the mask. There was something behind his brown eyes now that was far from warm. Sylvie never wanted to see that look in his eyes again. She closed the distance. Could just make out a small craft cresting on the edge of an even deeper crevasse. The fuselage was intact, but slightly twisted.

  I wasn’t prepared to see this.

  Will grabbed her. Had she been swimming away? He gripped her and tried to convey what he could not say through his gaze. In his eyes she saw understanding and compassion, and that he shared her horror at the situation—but she also saw his conviction that they had to move forward. Their mothers would never get justice if they didn’t find the proof inside the plane.

  Sylvie had thought she was stronger than this, and though she’d coached Will to breathe through it when they found what they were looking for, he was the steady one.

  But they had a reason to be here. And now it was time to get the evidence that would put her stepfather away—the missing piece to tie him to her mother’s murder and attempts on Sylvie’s life. The pain stabbed at her now like never before.

  Could she do this?

  Will left her and swam toward the fuselage. He would do it if she couldn’t. She followed him. They would do this together. Now they had discovered the plane, they would come back, of course, with an actual dive team and the proper authorities to recover the bodies. Today was just about retrieving one thing.

  She was messing with a crime scene, but underwater crime scenes were the most difficult to comb through. If they didn’t retrieve the thumb drive now, it would fall into the wrong hands.

  The downed craft was eighty feet deep, resting on the precipice of a much deeper sea canyon. Had the plane rocked forward and fallen farther, she and Will would have a much different kind of dive on their hands.

  Sylvie wanted—no, needed�
��to take deep breaths to calm herself, but she couldn’t afford that. Decompression sickness was one thing, but a quick glance at her watch told her that they would soon need to head back up. They would likely need to dive again to complete their task.

  When they approached the fuselage, Will was the one to swim to the passenger’s side of the plane and search. Sylvie had experience, but Will was the one to take charge, and she let him. In fact, she couldn’t look. She averted her gaze, looking at the fuselage of the plane, still in one twisted piece, except for jagged edges where the wing had ripped away. What had happened? A small-enough bomb to simply rip off the wing?

  Will had wedged himself deeper, searching for the thumb drive. Her mother claimed to have had it on her when she left—the drive the reason she had fled. Sylvie watched intently, aware that the plane might not be stable against the precipice. Was Will paying attention, too? She needed to warn him and swam closer.

  From inside the plane he gestured wildly at her.

  Will’s leg was caught in twisted metal. Caught and bleeding.

  EIGHTEEN

  Will held it in his gloved hands—the thumb drive that had cost his mother’s life. That had cost Sylvie’s mother’s life. The price had been too high. With the pain shooting through his leg that was somehow snagged on a sheet of twisted metal, the price might still climb higher.

  If he couldn’t get free before his tank ran out of oxygen, Sylvie could buddy breathe with him, but eventually she would run out of air, too. The terrified look in her eyes didn’t help. He wouldn’t have thought it—she being a master diver. That showed him the true danger of the situation they were in. If he couldn’t get free, she would blame herself for this for the rest of her life.

  He tugged and pulled on his leg, but the pain only intensified, and nothing he did helped to get him free.

  Sylvie cautioned him. She signaled that too much moving could jar the plane from the precipice. Will brandished his knife. He had to live. If not for himself then for Sylvie’s sake, and Snake’s sake, and for his mother’s sake, to make whoever had killed her pay for what they had done.

  He glanced at Sylvie. She quickly masked the look of no hope on her face, but he’d seen it all the same. He thrust the thumb drive at her. That was what she needed more than she needed him. She could finish this for both of them. He glanced at the knife, recalling the story of the man who’d cut off his own arm to escape being stuck between boulders.

  Could Will do that? When he looked back at Sylvie she shook her head, terror in her eyes. He could bleed out before they could get to the surface. Attract sharks. And they would soon be out of oxygen.

  Out of time.

  She reached for him. He pushed her away. How did he get her to leave him behind? Would it be too horrific for her if he pulled off his regulator and let himself drown? Then she couldn’t save him and would have the time to save herself.

  He shoved the images of his father’s underwater death from his mind.

  God, I don’t want to die! Help me have the courage to live!

  He didn’t want to die like this! Nor did he want to put Sylvie through this. It was too much, far too much, for her to handle, even someone as strong as Sylvie.

  Then he remembered. How could he have forgotten? His mother always carried a crowbar in the plane. He bent and tried to shift, and pain shot through his leg. He pointed to the back, signaling in hopes Sylvie would understand what he needed.

  She nodded.

  While Sylvie maneuvered into the back of the cockpit, Will kept perfectly still. The last thing he needed was to cause the plane to shift and fall deeper into the ocean, taking them both with it.

  Help could not arrive soon enough. Will wondered what was keeping his search and rescue friends. They couldn’t know just how at stake Will’s life was at the moment.

  He steadied his breathing, despite the precarious situation. Even though it was becoming increasingly clear he was about to die. God, please save Sylvie. Please get her out of here!

  Will had been selfish to encourage her to look for—

  Sylvie held the duffel bag. His mother’s bag of tools and other necessities in case she found herself stuck somewhere. Will took the bag and tried to open it but the zipper caught. Sylvie whipped her knife around and sliced it open. Will pulled out what he’d needed—a crowbar. They needed leverage.

  But more than that, Will would have to use his knife and make an incision to free the piercing metal from his leg, before the leverage would work. His vision blurred. He blinked a few times and then made the cut.

  The pain was unbearable. He shut his eyes. Stifled a scream. He thought he would pass out. At least the cold seeping in would bring numbing relief.

  Dizziness swept through him. He refocused his efforts. Together, he and Sylvie worked to pry him free, but even free, he wasn’t sure he could swim to the surface with a bum leg.

  His leg shifted, and Will pushed himself away from the craft. Sylvie’s concerned eyes beamed. She dragged him farther from the plane, blood quickly coloring the water, faster than before.

  Will didn’t have time to worry about sharks—another kind of danger drew his attention first. They’d been sidetracked, their attention on freeing him, and hadn’t noticed a different kind of predator waiting to take a bite of them. At first he thought it was the help they’d needed, but then he saw the glint of a knife and the hostile eyes.

  * * *

  She had the thumb drive in her grip—it could be dried out and the data recovered—but all she really cared about was that Will was free. What did the thumb drive matter, what did any of it matter, if Will died down here? Died while trying to help her? Suddenly, finding justice for their mothers didn’t seem so important. Though they needed this evidence to be free from those trying to kill them, her priorities quickly shifted with this new urgency. Will’s life was on the line.

  All that mattered was getting him to the surface.

  She signaled that they should head up now, and she would assist him to the surface.

  Except the look on his face told her something was terribly wrong—something more than his injury. Will tried to pull Sylvie with him to the far side of the plane. They needed to ascend. He was losing his focus.

  Oh, God, please don’t let him die. Will forced her around.

  Two divers had approached, and one drew ominously near. Behind the mask Sylvie recognized the eyes.

  Ashley?

  Diverman floated a few feet away. Was Rifleman, the man from the ferry, manning their boat?

  Shock had her gasping for breath. Ashley and Diverman. Of course. They were working for her stepfather. She’d been such an idiot to trust Ashley.

  Will urged her to swim away with him, but no way was he going to be able to outswim these two with an injured leg. Ashley reached forward and tried to snag the thumb drive from Sylvie’s fingers. She’d forgotten she even held it there. Sylvie yanked her hand out of reach.

  Ashley would have to fight for it.

  She thrust a knife at Sylvie, who grabbed her wrist and held it tightly. The thumb drive in one hand, and Ashley’s wrist in the other, she couldn’t grab her diver’s knife. In her peripheral vision, she saw Will fighting with Diverman, and holding his own, even with his serious injury, but he wouldn’t last long. Sylvie and Will had just enough oxygen left to swim to the surface, cutting their decompression stops short. She needed to end this and now!

  When Ashley eased back on the knife to thrust it yet again, Sylvie twisted her wrist back. Ashley reached for Sylvie’s regulator hose, but it was too late. She’d dropped her knife and it sank. Ashley and Sylvie locked grips, then, neither able to get free without risk.

  She was breathing too hard and fast, using up her oxygen.

  Dizziness took hold. Oh, no! Please, God, help me!

  Help Will!

  She would never make it to the
surface. That was Ashley’s plan. Keep her here, hold her down, until she died. In her peripheral vision, she could see that Will was no longer swimming. He floated lifeless in the water. But so did Diverman.

  Had he killed for her, like he said he would?

  Fury exploded inside Sylvie. Adrenaline surged and she shoved free from Ashley. Swiped at the woman’s regulator, her mask, anything to be free so she could save Will. But Diverman roused and swam toward her. She couldn’t take them both.

  Her heart would split in two if she left Will behind, and yet she had no choices. None whatsoever.

  She turned and thrust away from Ashley to make a swim for it. Ashley reached for Sylvie, grabbing her fin and then her leg. She sliced at Ashley with her own knife. Terror filled Sylvie. She couldn’t die like this. Then the truth would never come out for any of them.

  Ashley ripped the thumb drive from Sylvie’s fingers then released her. She and Diverman swam away. Sylvie made for Will. She had to haul him to the surface, take her chances with DCS again. There was no time to worry about stopping. And that was when she saw what had sent Ashley and Diverman away without killing her first.

  Divers. More divers were in the water. Obviously they weren’t there to help Ashley and her accomplice. The next thing Sylvie knew, one of the divers was with her, sharing his regulator.

  Cade Warren, her half brother. Will must have told him about their plan. She’d warned him against that, but now she was grateful.

  Other divers surrounded Will and took him away from her. Tears slid down her cheeks and pooled in her mask, but they weren’t tears of joy, even though she was grateful the divers had shown up here.

  She wouldn’t have survived even to get to this point if it hadn’t been for Will. He’d saved her too many times, and now he might pay for that with his life. She wasn’t sure Will would make it. Please, God...

  He might already be gone.

  Moments later Sylvie found herself on another boat. David Warren and Heidi Callahan helped her remove her gear. She pressed into Heidi’s shoulder, cognizant of her half sister’s growing belly, and sobbed. She’d thought she was so strong that she could take on the world, all by herself. Take on her stepfather, Damon Masters, an international magnate.