by Laura Moore
“Where the hell are you, Lily?” Sean asked aloud as he hung up the phone.
The ride out to zone one of the reef took twice as long this afternoon as it did under normal conditions. Lily and Karen had suited up as soon as they’d climbed aboard the Tangiers. Lily wanted to be ready to dive the minute they reached the reef. They stood beside Owen in the shelter of the pilothouse, gripping the railing with both hands for balance.
Lily cast another worried glance at Karen, whose face, usually so animated, was drawn and leached of color. She placed her hand over Karen’s, drawing her attention. “The swell will be rough underwater,” she shouted over the combined roar of the engines and wind. “But it’ll be even worse when we’re at the surface. Remember, stay calm and don’t panic. Keep your regulator in your mouth until the very end, when you reach the ladder.” Her fingers tightened in a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be with you the entire time.”
Karen nodded, her lips pressed in a straight, hard line. Lily turned to Owen. “Will you be able to drop anchor with the waves this strong?”
“Should be able to,” Owen yelled, nodding vigorously. “But she’ll probably drift. I’m going to position her just southwest of where you’ll be diving. That way, when you surface, you won’t be swimming against the waves to reach the boat.”
“Good. The dive should take twenty minutes—half an hour, tops.”
“You got it, Dr. Banyon.”
If the ride to the reef was choppy, it was nothing compared to the pitch and roll of the Tangiers once Owen cut the engines.
Telling Karen to wait in the shelter of the pilothouse, Lily followed Owen out to help with the anchors. Unable to keep her balance on the seesawing deck, Lily stumbled. Once she was jostled so hard, her hip slammed into the side of the pilothouse. She grimaced at the shooting pain.
By the time she made her way back to the pilothouse, her hair was matted to her skull, rivulets of water streaming down her cheeks. Wiping the rain off her face, she stepped inside.
Karen was sitting on the captain’s chair with her camera and light strobe in her lap, doing a final check of the equipment.
“Everything okay?” Unable to resist, she added, “Karen, you really don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do,” Karen replied. “I’d never forgive myself otherwise.”
“All right then, let’s do it.”
While Owen secured the ladder, Lily and Karen donned their remaining scuba gear—their buoyancy control devices, weight belts, masks and snorkels. Owen came and helped them both with their scuba tanks. Karen picked up her camera, held it close, and gave Lily a tense nod.
Fins in hand, her mesh bag with her sample case in the other, Lily led the way out.
This is not good, was Lily’s first thought. This is scary as hell, her second, when she and Karen hit the storm-tossed waters and began bobbing violently in the waves. Lily was an experienced ocean swimmer; she knew how to angle her body so the surf’s impact was lessened. But she could see that Karen was having a hard time. Reaching out, she grabbed Karen’s arm. Together they began their descent.
The segment of the reef where they were diving was in the shallowest water, the depth only twenty to twenty-five feet. As she and Karen descended, the impact of the waves lessened, but only fractionally. The force of the surge was like being rammed by a truck. Lily’s worry escalated. She wasn’t scared for herself, but for Karen. Twenty minutes in conditions such as these would seem like an hour. What would happen if Karen became overwhelmed by fatigue and she panicked?
The reef was transformed by the storm. Where before, all had been serene yet vibrant, now anemone and soft coral waved frantically. Fish darted nervously as if searching in vain for shelter. Constantly rocked by the force of the stormy ocean, Lily and Karen swam awkwardly among them. Lily held her sample case as she swam. Her head swiveled back and forth, trying to spot the locations where she and John had taken core samples previously. Though it was impossible to conduct as careful and systematic a sampling, Lily was going to try her utmost in the short time she’d allowed for the dive.
With every cylinder she dug into the sandy bottom, she cast a quick watchful look at her photographer.
Camera out, Karen was photographing the hard coral—brain coral, star coral, stag coral, and the like. Lily realized she’d chosen to concentrate on this type of species because their brittle structure made them easier to photograph. The soft coral that grew in zone one, the sea fans, lettuce coral, and sea plumes, were out of the question. They were whipping and swaying like saplings in a gale. Not even a gifted photographer like Karen would be able to get a decent shot of them—photographing the hard coral was damned difficult enough.
Lily soon realized Karen had figured out a way to combat the underwater surge while she photographed. Hovering over the coral she was photographing, she would steady her body by folding her arms tight against her ribs, and then depress the camera shutter. While Lily hurriedly filled test tube after test tube, Karen would drop, lie, and shoot. Then, exchanging thumbs-up signals, the two of them would swim over to the next specimen.
As they were diving under extreme conditions, Lily was careful to monitor the air pressure in her tank and was making Karen check hers frequently, too. After Karen had finished photographing an elkhorn coral covered in thick algal growth, Lily motioned to her. Spreading her fingers wide, she gestured emphatically, to signal that they had five minutes left. Karen nodded, signaling, Okay back to her.
Lily checked the compass strapped to her wrist. They would need to swim south for a few hundred yards before they began their controlled ascent. She gave a fervent prayer that the Tangiers hadn’t drifted too far off.
Inserting her last water sample into the carrying case, she shoved the case into the bottom of her mesh bag, checked that the bag was attached to her buoyancy control vest, and then touched Karen’s arm, pointing in the direction they needed to swim.
Owen had been smart to suggest we swim with the incoming waves, Lily thought. She could already feel the adrenaline rush leaving her as she kicked. Both her mind and body were suddenly tired, sluggish.
Not much farther now, she thought, rallying herself. Concerned that Karen might be severely fatigued, she looked over at her photographer and exhaled in relief. Karen seemed to be doing fine.
Lily’s fins kicked steadily over the hard bottom terrain of the reef, then past the reef’s southernmost boundary. She slowed to check her wrist compass once more. There, at that patch of sea grass, that’s where they’d begin their ascent, Lily decided.
As they neared the wispy, tufted grass, something about it caught her attention, teasing her memory. Instinctively, she touched Karen’s arm. Karen’s mask turned toward Lily’s, her eyes wide and questioning behind the tempered glass. Lily gestured to the patch of grass waving in the water. She curled her index finger, imitating someone taking a photograph. Karen immediately unhooked her camera and swam with Lily toward the bed of sea grass.
Lily watched her raise the camera to her mask, keeping her body as still as possible. When Karen moved, Lily knew she must have taken her shot. But instead, Karen looked over her shoulder and shook her head vehemently, obviously dissatisfied about something.
In response, Lily tapped her air gauge and waved to her. Karen held up one finger insistently. One shot.
Okay, Lily jerked her thumb up, giving Karen the go-ahead. One more shot and they’d begin their ascent, and get the hell out of the water.
Lily’s body drifted with the current as she waited. Karen repositioned herself, sinking down until she floated a couple of feet above the sea grass. Lily saw her press her finger to the shutter, then lower her camera.
Lily started swimming toward her. Simultaneously, Karen lowered her legs so she could push off of the sandy bottom beneath her. Lily saw Karen’s long scuba fins sweep the ocean floor, stirring the sand. All of a sudden a cloud whooshed upward.
A cloud of sand and something else, too—dark gray wings beat
ing in ominous flight.
I have to help Karen, was her only thought. With one great kick, she propelled herself forward.
And put herself directly in the path of the stingray.
The stingray, with its capelike wings, enveloped her in a terrifying embrace. Panicked, Lily struggled and felt the knife-sharp pain, the white-hot burn as the ray’s spiked, venomous tail whipped her once, twice, and yet again, cutting deep, before she was freed.
Her body jerked, convulsed with pain, and a single name was torn from her throat.
“Sean!”
As the stingray’s poison spread, the pain took over Lily’s body, becoming excruciating. Her breath was coming in harsh, rapid pants. Too fast! Her mind screamed futilely. Yet she couldn’t slow down her breathing or her panicked ascent, despite Karen’s attempts to hold her back. Lily could feel her arms about her, clutching her, trying to keep Lily from reaching the surface too quickly.
They broke through the water to more water. Angry white caps rolled over them from every direction. Lily felt herself go under. Then something was tugging at her vest. Dimly she realized Karen must be inflating it. Her head lolled, as useless as the rest of her, and the gray mist of pain that shrouded her mind darkened to a black night. Lily’s mouth went slack.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Sean’s face was etched in harsh lines as he sped away from the Bay Towers. The doorman on duty at the condo thought that, Yeah, maybe he’d seen Lily and her assistant leave some time during the late morning. Must have, the guy added with an indifferent shrug. If they weren’t answering the buzzer, it must mean they weren’t there.
Succumbing to a nagging worry, Sean had left the office half an hour ago. He knew that until he found her, he wouldn’t be able to get a lick of work done. He’d left instructions with Evelyn, telling her to call him the second she heard from Lily. Then he’d gotten in his car and begun his search . . . his fruitless search for Lily.
The windshield wipers were fighting a losing battle with the rain. They dragged across the windshield, leaving wide, watery streaks. Sean steered with his hands locked tight around the wheel while the car sloughed and skidded along the rain-filled streets. He drove automatically, his mind centered on one thought. Where was she?
At a red light, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and looked at the miniature screen, hoping perhaps he’d missed a call. The screen was aggravatingly blank. Though tempted, Sean knew he couldn’t ring Lily’s grandmother. May Ellen was already beside herself with worry. He tossed the cell onto the passenger seat in disgust.
His unease became mixed with the first wrenchings of angry frustration. What could she be thinking, haring off somewhere without letting anyone know where to find her? Why hadn’t she called? Where in hell could she be?
On a whim, Sean headed back toward the marina— although he’d already been by Norma Jean’s once before. He’d found the diner deserted, the lone waitress thumbing through this week’s edition of TV Guide. No, she’d replied, no tall blonde had come in to eat.
Might as well try again, he decided. Perhaps he and Lily had crossed paths. Or maybe she and Karen were holed up at the Keel, drinking beer and throwing darts because there was little else to do on such a lousy day.
He turned into the marina parking lot.
A sudden dread gripped him. In the distance, the lights of an ambulance flashed, a violent red-and-white pulse in the gray of the driving rain. His heart pounding, Sean hit the accelerator, then brought the car to a screeching halt a few yards away.
The ambulance was stationed by the gated entrance to the docks. Its back doors were open in readiness and two blue-jacketed attendants stood in the square of light emanating from the interior.
A crowd had gathered. Yellow slickers, oilskins, and baseball caps covered bodies and heads, and kept away the rain, but did nothing to banish the ghoulish, macabre air that permeated the scene. Sean threaded his way through the curious throng, anxiously scanning the faces he passed.
As he neared the paramedics, he looked at the tall man beside them and did a double-take. Dave—it was Dave Cullen.
“Cullen!” he yelled loudly, catching his attention. “What’s going on? What’s happened?”
“Sean!” Dave waved him over. “Christ, I’m glad to see you!” he said when Sean reached him. “I only arrived a few minutes ago myself. The stationmaster at the marina just received a radio distress call. A diver’s been seriously injured. They’re coming in now. Sean, the call came from the Tangiers.”
Sean’s unblinking gaze was riveted on the mouth of the inlet. At first he thought what he saw was a mirage, an illusion born of desperation. But then, against the backdrop of the fast-darkening sky, the faint gleam of green-and-red running lights emerged and grew steadily clearer. He gave a hoarse cry and ran down the dock, Dave by his side.
The Tangiers carefully navigated the choppy waters of the inlet, the throb of its engines uneerily loud in the tense atmosphere. From behind came the sound of hurrying feet. It was the paramedics with the stretcher. A sudden burst of light flooded the area, and somewhere in Sean’s mind, he registered the presence of a TV crew.
But all that was pushed aside. The Tangiers’s engines had slowed to a low rumble and the trawler was easing into the slip.
Sean caught the rope an ashen-faced Owen threw to him. “It’s Dr. Banyon, Sean.” Owen’s voice was raw with strain. “She got hurt bad . . . real bad.”
“Sweet Lord, no,” he whispered, petrified.
Sean was jostled as one of the paramedics jumped aboard. Shaking off his paralyzing fear, he helped lift the stretcher onto the boat, and then followed Owen as the captain led them to Lily.
Sean’s heart clenched when he saw Lily lying on the cabin’s bench, a thick blanket covering her. Her face was a chalky white, beads of perspiration dotting her brow, her lips an ominous blue. He fell to his knees beside her. With a shaking hand, he reached out to stroke her damp brow, his terror escalating when he felt her icy skin.
The paramedics crouched next to him. Immediately they set to work, one taking her vital signs, while his partner relayed the stats by radio to the emergency staff.
“Sean!” At the cry, Sean reluctantly looked away from Lily’s ghostly pale face. Karen was standing to the side. Tears were streaming down her face. Dave’s arm was about her, holding her close.
His throat tight with fear, Sean swallowed forcibly. “What happened, Karen?” he managed to say at last.
“It was a stingray. It was hidden under some sand near where I was shooting. I guess I startled it, and when Lily tried to reach me, it got her instead. The ray stung and cut her three times,” she wailed, unable to continue as the tears started afresh.
“We’ve got to get the patient out of here,” one of the paramedics announced. “You should come too, Miss, so we can check and make sure you’re okay.”
The medics carefully lifted Lily onto the stretcher, and then carried her off the Tangiers. Dazed, as if he were caught in a nightmare, Sean followed. His eyes remained fixed on the stretcher, his lips mumbling a prayer with each step he took.
They were nearly at the ambulance when Sean’s path was blocked by a man. Sean stopped, blinking in the harsh glare of lights.
The man stuck a microphone in his face. “Mayor McDermott, we’ve just learned that you’ve been accused of serious charges of misconduct by a member of this research team, Dr. Lily Banyon. According to our source, Dr. Banyon has accused you of harassment. Can you give us your response, Mayor McDermott?” The reporter thrust the mike closer.
Fury erupted inside Sean. “Get the hell out of my way,” he snarled menacingly, and shoved the reporter hard.
May Ellen and Kaye were in the hospital’s waiting lounge when Sean arrived. Catching sight of him, May Ellen burst into tears.
He hugged her, patting her trembling shoulders as she wept.
“Will she be all right, Sean?” Kaye asked. Her face was haggard with worry.
�
�I don’t know.” The words choked him. “We have to hope, and wait for the doctors to do what they can for her.”
“Come, sit down, Mother,” Kaye gently urged a still-weeping May. “Sean’s right, of course. We have to wait and let the doctors take care of her.” She and Sean guided her to a chair.
And so the vigil began.
Sean was sitting with his head bowed, his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers knotted together in a tight ball. The sound of footsteps made him raise his head. It was Karen and Dave. He jumped to his feet.
“Are you okay, Karen?” he asked, reaching them in three strides. She looked wan, her eyes huge and shadowed. Dave must have given her his sweatshirt. Enormous on her, it hung to her knees.
“I’m fine,” she said, brushing his question aside. Sean’s eyes met Dave’s over the top of her tangled head of hair. Dave gave a grim nod of confirmation.
Sean felt his shoulders sag. This was the first good news they’d received. Please God, don’t let it be the last, he whispered silently.
“Sean,” Karen said. “I need to tell you why we were out at the reef.”
“Why don’t we go sit down by Lily’s mother and grandmother?” Dave suggested. “You’re about ready to fall on your face from exhaustion, Karen, and her family’s going to want to hear every word you say.”
Karen had just finished her story, which the others had listened to in appalled silence.
Sean was shaking his head in angry disbelief. “You mean to tell me that Granger tampered with the samples to get back at Lily?” he asked Karen.
Karen nodded. “He must have really hated her after the ‘lobster threat,’ ” she said. “Do you remember when I told you about it, Sean, on the first day of our study?”
