Dangerous Waters

by Toni Anderson

  Breaking the skin of the inky surface, they followed the gerry line back to the boat that bobbed gently on the incoming tide. Neither said a word. They threw their fins up on deck, climbed aboard, and shucked off their heavy equipment. Sat breathing heavily, looking at one another for a long, drawn-out moment. Ghosts lingered in Thom’s eyes.

  “I have to report this to the police,” said Finn. The image of the diver hanging lifeless in the water burned through his brain.

  Thom swallowed thickly. Nodded. He pulled out a small sample jar and looked at his prize floating gently in the water. Then he rested his head in the palm of his hands and started to cry.

  Holly Rudd stepped off the speedboat and looked around. Vancouver Island was the size of Scotland, but with a population of only three-quarters of a million people, most of whom where based in the provincial capital, Victoria. The rest were scattered among tiny outports and communities like this one—Bamfield, population one-hundred and fifty-five hardy, adventurous souls, according to the last census.

  “You can’t moor that there.”

  She looked the guy up and down. Surfer blond hair and bare feet. Rugged good looks and attitude to match. She dumped her bag at her feet and turned to the guy who’d ferried her over from Ucluelet. Tipped him fifty bucks. “Thanks for the ride.” He waved as he sped away.

  She turned back to the dude who stood with arms crossed over his broad chest, radiating impatience and hostility. Sexy as hell. She was tired from lack of sleep, exhilarated by the thought of what the day might bring, but she sure as heck wasn’t blind.

  “This is private property.” Blue eyes glittered. Pale hair glowed like white gold in the rays of the rising sun. Hot, tanned, gorgeous. Just her luck.

  She raised a brow and checked her watch. “I’m meeting someone here.”

  “Public dock is another minute that way.” He jerked his thumb down the inlet.

  She smiled coolly. Twelve long years on the job and she was still dealing with macho bullshit. “Except someone’s dropping a car off for me here.” She pointed up at the Department of Fisheries and Oceans sign on the side of a large wooden building and started toward it.

  He blocked her path. “There’s no one there today.”

  She rocked back on her heels, let her eyes range over the square jaw and heated eyes. “You’re not very friendly.”

  He didn’t crack a smile. “Not in my job description.”

  Not in hers either, but she found smiles worked better than growls when gathering information.

  His mouth pinched, then he backed off, relenting. “Tell me who you’re supposed to meet, and I’ll get someone to track them down.”

  “Who are you?” She had a feeling she knew.

  He blew out an impatient sigh. “Look, lady, I don’t have time for this—”

  “Sergeant.”

  “Excuse me?” Those pale brows formed a formidable line.

  She held out a hand. “Sergeant Holly Rudd. I’m with the Vancouver Island Integrated Major Crime Unit.”

  “You’re a Mountie?”

  A proud member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police by any other name. She nodded.

  He stood stock still, nothing moving but the glitter in his eyes. Finally he sucked in a breath and shook her hand. “Nice uniform.”

  She glanced down at her ragged old T-shirt, cutoffs, and thongs. “I was caught a little unprepared this morning, as I was officially on vacation. Thankfully, I always pack a uniform.” She tapped her bag with her foot, smiled widely, and watched his eyes grow a lot more friendly. And then they shifted straight back to suspicious as he realized she was cataloging his expressions like a facial analysis program. “And you are?”

  “Finn Carver.”

  Ah. Her fingers tightened on his when he would have let go. “You called it in?”

  “I did.” He forcibly disconnected her fingers.

  “I’m going to need all the gear you wore last night and the other diver’s. Forensics will want to check it out.”

  He regarded her with one of those silent, steady gazes people used when they wanted to argue but couldn’t. “I’ll need it back ASAP. I have a busy dive schedule this week.”

  “You can use something else for a day or two, right? I’ll make sure they do a quick turnaround.” She needed this guy on her side.

  The little time she’d had before the boat trip she’d used to pull up background information on the two guys who’d found the body. Finn Carver had been in the military. Right now he looked ready to go into combat. “Any chance the dive team arrived yet?” she asked.

  “No. Their ETA is eleven o’clock. West Coast Marine Service had a call north of Prince Rupert last night. It’s going to take them a few hours to get back here. So far you’re it.” His eyes scraped her form. He didn’t look impressed. She should be insulted, but she worked best when people underestimated her.

  “I want to check out the crime scene ASAP.”

  His face gave away nothing but skepticism. Those arms crossed again over that muscular chest. Mouth pressed into a firm line. She let her eyes wander over him. He really was very attractive and absolutely untouchable. Knowing that gave her a distinct advantage.

  “You can take me down,” she suggested.

  He gave her one of those sideways glances. Not hostile. Not friendly. “Whoever is in charge of the investigation probably wouldn’t be very happy about that.”

  “Me. I’m in charge. On the ground anyway.” Although she was the newest member of the major crime unit here on the island, she had plenty of experience. She let her grin reach her eyes this time. This was her first case as primary investigator in a murder investigation, and she didn’t usually have to work this hard to charm anyone. “I just helped solve a case down in Blaine.” RCMP, municipal, and FBI collaboration. A hell of a big deal. “Guy murdered his wife, dumped her in Semiahmoo Bay. We found enough evidence to prove he was lying and he confessed.” To her, at the end of a bloody knife. She rubbed the newly healed scar on her arm. “I’ve been working with forensic experts in Burnaby for some time, looking at decomp after seawater submergence.”

  His lip started to thin. He was definitely not buying it.

  “If you’re too scared to go back down there…”

  He snorted and whirled away. “What am I, eight?”

  “If you don’t take me down, I’ll find someone who will,” she called to his retreating back.

  He stopped, tension stretching the muscles tight across his shoulder blades. “I thought people who found the bodies were suspects?”

  Knowledgeable about police investigations. Check. “At this stage, everyone’s a suspect, but I can take care of myself.”

  A harsh sound was forced out of his mouth. “Just what a potential dive buddy wants to hear.” He swiveled back to her and moved so close she smelled his scent and felt his body heat. She held her ground, watching his nostrils flare. He was trying to intimidate, but she’d been a cop for over a decade, had grown up with cops. There wasn’t much she hadn’t seen or dealt with, and brawny guys with bad attitudes did not scare her. “This isn’t some macho pissing contest. Wreck diving is dangerous, especially at this sort of depth. Only experienced divers should be down there.”

  “I can handle it.” Her voice was sharp. He wasn’t a pushover for female charm or pretty smiles. Perhaps proving she was damn good at her job would work instead.

  He went to walk away, but she reached out to touch his arm.

  “I have dive training.” She spoke softer this time. She’d learned to dive exactly so she could pursue this sort of investigation.

  He paused, those eyes of his diamond hard. “Prove it.”

  She let go of his arm and bent to pick up her bag. Unzipping the tote, she pulled out her brand-new PADI diving certificate. “I just completed the basic dive training yesterday.”

  “Fortuitous.” He plucked the book from her fingers and flipped through it. “You did four open-water dives and think you’re read
y for a thirty-meter wreck dive?” He shoved the book back in her hand and stalked away. “Not on your life, Sergeant Rudd.”

  “I checked you out, Mr. Carver.”

  “I bet you did.”

  She followed him into a low-slung single-story building, the room full of tanks and neoprene. The desk overflowed with papers, keys, coffee mugs. Where was everyone? The place was quiet as a graveyard. He picked up the phone.

  “I heard you’re the best dive instructor this side of the Pacific. If anyone can get me into that wreck, it’s you.”

  “Getting you into the wreck wouldn’t be the problem.” His eyes flicked over her, unmoved by flattery. He started talking on the phone. “Johnny? Finn Carver here. I’ve got a woman called Holly Rudd claims she just completed a PADI course with you?”

  It went silent, and Holly leaned against the doorway, straining to hear above the background sound of running water.

  “What was she like under pressure? Think she could hold her own on a thirty-meter wreck dive?”

  She watched his face, trying to gauge the answers, but his impassive features gave nothing away.

  “Would you trust her with your life?” The reply made Finn smile. “That’s what I figured. Talk to you later.” He hung up.

  “What did he say?” She could have kicked herself for asking.

  He stared at her, then bent down and started filling an air cylinder. “You don’t want to know.”

  Her eyes widened despite her efforts to conceal her emotions. “Well, it won’t be anything I haven’t heard before.” She lived in a man’s world and never forgot the fact, but she was done playing games. “Are you taking me down or not? So far we’ve only got your and Professor Edgefield’s word a body even exists. And even if there’s a body, it doesn’t mean it’s a homicide.”

  He snorted. “Trust me, it’s a homicide.”

  This was her first murder as lead investigator, and she would not be thwarted. Checking out the crime scene with the body still in place was imperative, as long as she didn’t contaminate the scene. The guys on the Underwater Recovery Team were no more likely to take her down than he was. She geared herself up for an argument.

  “You do exactly as I say. No pulling rank or cop bullshit when we get down there. And you’ll owe me.” Carver disconnected one cylinder and began filling another. His eyes were flat and hard.

  “You’re going to take me down?” A rush of adrenaline shot through her. “As long as it isn’t illegal, I’ll owe you.” She nodded.

  “Down there I’m boss. You have to trust me implicitly.” He took a step closer and her mouth went dry. “If I put my hands on you…” He rested both hands on her hips and she felt the imprint of each burning hot finger. She forced herself not to react. This was a test. She didn’t fail tests. Ever. “If I grab you, you don’t freak out. You help me do whatever the hell it is I want to do. You follow my lead exactly and we’ll both get out of there alive.”

  She found herself staring up into those bright blue eyes, only inches from hers. Energy sizzled between them. A sudden wave of sexual awareness mixed with mutual mistrust, a subtle perfume of complication.

  Red burned his cheekbones. He released her. He hadn’t expected it either.

  “I have to trust you. Think I can do that?” Blue eyes held her gaze.

  She didn’t make a joke about putting her hands on him because suddenly it wasn’t funny. One, he was a suspect, and she refused to feel anything for him that wasn’t strictly professional. Two, they were going to dive a hazardous shipwreck at thirty meters with a rotting corpse at the end. It wasn’t the sort of treasure most divers dreamed of, but she wasn’t most people. She kept her mouth shut. Nodded.

  The shipwreck looked different by day. At this depth, in pristine water, the hull took on a romantic aspect, an adventure, a mystery. But it was also a coffin, and the thought of entering it willingly twisted Finn’s guts. He looked at Holly. Indicated she stay still while he circled her, checking that the hoses were taped down tight against her body. He tested her by poking and prodding to make sure everything was secure. She held fast, tense, but doing what he’d told her to do even though she didn’t like it.

  She went up a notch in his estimation. Not because he liked women docile, but because he liked people smart.

  The advantage of her being newly qualified meant she should treat her instructor like God because the basics had been freshly drilled into her mind. The disadvantage was he was about to put his life in the hands of a novice who’d never gone inside a wreck before and would probably screw up the dive before they even got to the engine room. Which was fine as long as neither of them ended up dead in the process.

  He’d found her a dry suit and rigged them both with double tanks with separate regulators, plus an independent pony rig. They had as much safe air as a person could carry, and still it didn’t guarantee they’d survive the experience.

  But a Coast Guard vessel acted as the surface crew this time, and there wasn’t much current. Twelve hours later and he’d hit another low tide. Lucky him.

  Nothing for it, he approached the wreck the same way as before. He turned on his light and flashed her the OK signal. She mirrored her reply, gray eyes serious now.

  He pointed to his flippers and shook his head. A reminder not to fin inside the vessel. She nodded, gave him the OK signal. So far, so good. He used momentum to drift into the broken ship, used his hands to pull himself slowly and steadily along. It was so tight and dark they had to go single file. He couldn’t believe he’d managed to get Thom out of here alive last night. It had been a close thing, and he’d been foolish to bring him down.

  Yet here he was again with a frickin’ novice.

  He entered the wheelhouse and waited. There was plenty of light here, but inside the stairwell there was almost complete darkness for about five meters. He’d talked Holly through it, but the reality was different. He checked both their gauges. Her eyes tracked him, looking for something he couldn’t define. Weakness? Aggression? Guilt?

  She didn’t trust him, and he didn’t blame her.

  It wouldn’t be hard to pin her down and pull the regulator out of her mouth and watch her suck in water. If he was a killer, taking out a fresh-faced girl who was also a cop would probably get his rocks off. Then he’d let the sea take her body and say she panicked on him and took off. No one could prove different. Or he’d disappear. It wasn’t that hard. He’d rather slit his own throat than raise a hand to a woman, but she didn’t know that, so being wary of him was a smart thing, just as long as it didn’t fuck up their dive.

  He could tell she thought she could take him on if she had to. Crazy, even for a cop. A quick background check wouldn’t reveal much other than the fact he’d been in the army.

  He checked their gauges, made her switch tanks because she’d guzzled more air than he was comfortable with, and if there was a problem with the second tank, he wanted to know before they went farther. Exasperated patience shone in her eyes now, and it caught him so unexpectedly he grinned. Then sobered. This was not the time for amusement on any scale.

  He led the way, holding his beam of light aimed straight at the hatch they needed to go through. The unwavering light was their beacon, and he hoped Holly had the nerve to follow through with it. He waited at the opening and felt a current next to his body as someone came alongside. Holly squeezed his arm and flashed the OK sign in his beam of light.

  He steeled himself to what lay inside the chamber. He carefully inched forward, using the sides of the hatch to pull himself through and into the heart of the shipwreck.

  Holly followed, bumped into him, and he gripped her around the waist to stop their forward propulsion. He felt her freeze at the contact and then force herself to relax. She watched him through the bubbles, questions clear in her eyes. He maneuvered her until she faced the right direction and held tight as they both took in the corpse. The diver hung in the water with his arms and legs dangling. He wore a shabby old wetsuit and h
is mask was askew. His air cylinders were gone. A big-assed knife was strapped to his thigh.

  An even bigger knife stuck out of his chest.

  Finn let Holly go with a warning squeeze.

  He’d seen plenty of death in his time, but he didn’t know what sort of person would purposefully pursue it. Homicide investigator seemed like an odd choice of career for a beautiful young woman like Holly Rudd. She flinched as she got close enough to run her light over the damage the fish had wreaked on the guy, which proved she was at least human. There was frayed flesh where his lips should have been, teeth prominent in the murk. Flesh on the hands had been eaten away too. Holly took a series of photographs. Finn edged closer. The knife jutting out of the diver’s chest was pretty indicative of murder. The hilt was heavy and black, the grip worn down by age.

  Shit. He frowned, his heart contracting extra hard. He recognized that knife.

  He checked his gauges then tapped Holly on the shoulder to do the same. She glared at him for a moment. She was caught up in cataloging the details important to her, much the same way Thom had been caught up in his treasure last night. Finn pointed to the dial. Her second tank was almost empty, and she blinked in surprise. Her body wasn’t used to this depth; she should have been checking more regularly. This was why novices didn’t do their first wreck dive at thirty meters or their first thirty-meter dive in a wreck. A double whammy.

  He passed her the regulator to her half-full first tank and adjusted the discarded regulator until it sat under her chin. While he had her attention, he pointed to where he’d dropped the weight belt. She nodded and was about to dart off when he tightened his hold and pointed to her flippers, which had stirred up a wave of sediment. They couldn’t afford to whip things up if the dive unit hoped to find the body when they arrived. He didn’t appreciate how much he enjoyed touching the confident, sexy cop. Given time and the right circumstances, she was exactly the sort of woman he’d like to explore in much more detail. But he didn’t have time, and these definitely weren’t the right circumstances.