by R. T. Wolfe
"I'm afraid we don't let humans observe the dolphins up close. We don't want them to become accustomed to people."
Two biologists sat on a blanket on the floor in a corner. They were injecting some kind of fluid into the shoulders of a juvenile sea turtle. Dane supposed there weren't many places to inject much of anything when you're covered in a shell.
Another small group of biologists was pulling up the corners of the blanket under another turtle. They hoisted it up, secured it to a dangling hook and let go. The scale read one hundred ninety-five pounds.
The drive to the pier was short. They probably could have walked if not for transporting the sea turtle.
"We have 1,115 turtles attached with satellites. This one will be number 1,116."
The contraption looked like a tiny alien ship glued high up on the back of the turtle's shell. Genius. Not too tall. The biologist paused her explanation and grunted as she and another dude unloaded the turtle from the back of a truck. Dane took pride in remembering just how hard that was.
"The satellites have taught us that Gulf sea turtles migrate in circles all the way to the west coast of Africa and back again to within five to seven miles of where they were born. This is a male. Hopefully, this will be his last time on land. The females are the only ones that come out of the water and that's not until they're at least thirty years old when they are ready to lay eggs." As Raine recorded the show on her phone, the biologist and her assistant set the turtle on the sand. He might have been over empathizing, but Dane swore it knew. His flippers were pumping before his belly hit the sand. He headed straight for the water like his life depended on it. Dane guessed it did.
Be free, Dane thought. Without the satellite, no one would ever find him again. The biologist had her head buried in the portable instruments showing the turtle's location and video feed of what was in front of it.
Dane's eyes darted to Zoe. She was preoccupied, staring at the calm water where the turtle had disappeared. Had disappeared. In the Gulf. Where no one would ever find him. Why hadn't he thought of this?
* * *
Miriam Roberts sat in the driver's seat of a white rental sedan. Zoe realized that although she must be used to hiding out by now, this seemed different. The Florida Keys. Why should Zoe get to enjoy diving in North America's only natural coral reef while Miriam was holed up in a hotel room? Oh, right. Because Zoe didn't have an abusive cop husband searching frantically for her.
And to think the Florida Keys were somehow the consolation destination. Dane tried feverishly to talk them into hiding around the waters off the coast of Australia. Zoe had to agree the general idea was a good one. Get them all away from Ibis while Matt did his thing. But there was no way she was going all the way to Australia when Seth's murder was this close to being solved. And no cell phone service? Not going to happen.
Miriam wasn't a diver and emphasized her refusal to step foot on the modest speed boat they'd rented. Zoe hoped the rental car didn't have a no smoking clause as Miriam lit one up. "I'll be fine," Miriam assured her as she exhaled. "Maybe I'll spend some time at the pool. I have a handful of books I brought with me."
"Okay, but use the prepaid cell if you need anything at all," Zoe said. "We won't dive longer than an hour and will check our phones before and after."
It was a bit like watching Mom drive away as Zoe was left alone with a teenage boyfriend. Except Zoe would have never wanted Dane as a boyfriend when they were teenagers. She turned to watch him load the boat with the scuba gear they'd brought. He wore his swim trunks, a pair of leather sandals, and a Sun Trips t-shirt. She smiled as she gave herself a moment to think about what was underneath.
The tattoo on his left bicep flexed as he lifted. His brows dug low and he seemed to be mentally ticking off some invisible check list. She adjusted the strap on her cowboy hat and dug in to help. Dane did a point check of the boat and started her up.
No one grew up an Ibis native without diving the Florida Keys, but this... This was with Dane, the childhood nemesis she'd somehow fallen hopelessly in love with. She untied the boat and snuggled into the passenger seat as he trolled away. No, it wasn't Australia and they wouldn't unearth any historical treasure, but she would damned well do the best she could to make the trip worth it.
The hat protected her face and neck, but she spread sunscreen there and everywhere else anyway. The breeze was gloriously scorching already at mid-morning.
The empty anchored boats they passed told her divers were already enjoying the coral. Privacy was something they wouldn't enjoy. It made her think of the incredibly sexy non-sex they had when he found her by Seth's cavern. Turning her head, she watched as his hair whipped in the wind. He sensed her gaze, tilted his head toward her and winked. It sent a shiver over her just as potent as the first time he winked at her.
They'd spent the last several weeks living side-by-side. Effortlessly, they maneuvered around each other, in her kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom. The bed. It was like a seamless dance between two people working as a team.
He was good for her. He was good, period. A good man she and Raine had pegged early on and let those preconceived notions stick for as long as they deemed necessary. Oh, the time she had wasted. But he was hers now. He loved her, crooned it in her ear dozens, maybe hundreds of times now. A rush of serenity washed over her.
"Here?" she asked and glanced around as he killed the engine.
"It looks like this is as private as we're going to get, and I see some movement down there. Let's go find out what it is."
Standing, she slipped off her shorts and pulled off her cowboy hat.
"Or," he amended, "we could stay here and get warmed up first."
How could he still make her blush? And in this heat? "There is no down-below on this boat."
"Babe." He pouted like an incredibly sexy, pouty, treasure hunting scuba diver.
As cruelly as she could, she slid her tank up and over her shoulders, giving her best impression of a lingerie model in a photo shoot. He dropped to his knees in front of her and placed his hands on the backs of her thighs.
"Dane," she said as she looked around. There were several boats within eye shot. "I was kidding."
"These are not funny," he said, looking to one of her breasts, then the other.
As she pushed him away, he fell back on his heels. He made no attempt to get his own gear and continued watching her.
"Watching you gear up is nearly as sexy. When are you going to teach again?"
Her eyes closed at his sudden change in subject. She pulled her air tank pack over one shoulder, then the other before fastening it around her waist. "We'll see."
She checked her safety points once, twice. Then, sat on the edge of the boat. Dane's safety checks were both seamless and subconscious. Together, they tipped backward and fell into the warm, salty waters. The wildlife was numerous and colorful. They dove nearly sixty feet and hovered near a cluster of anemones and the clown fish that called the poisonous creatures home.
They kicked their fins with yards between them, yet she constantly knew where he was. She adored how many of the live organisms had been given names due to their unscientific appearance. Lazily their fins brushed the tops of elkhorn corals. A group of brain corals sat to the north of them. A vast cluster of lettuce corals gathered beyond the brain coral.
She placed her hand through the pristine water and into one of the brilliantly colored schools of fish. The fish scattered outward like coral polyps. Turning her head to check on Dane's location, she found him watching her. Like he did on the boat ride out, he winked, then pointed upward. They needed to keep their trip short for Miriam's sake.
The stops at the designated ascension depths weren't as sexual, but somehow just as powerful. They spent their idling silent minutes reading each other's expressions. The blue in his eyes said serenity to her. She was in love and after growing up on the same island, yet miles apart, could never imagine life without him again.
Close to the surf
ace, their final stop was bright with brilliant sunlight. He held out his hand and opened his pruney fingers. She held up hers, placing her fingers against his. Like the many dances they had now shared, their legs kicked, keeping them at the proper depth without banging knees.
When they broke the surface, she hooted aloud at a successful dive. But Dane wasn't facing her. She looked to see what captured his attention and noticed a man in a nearby boat waving them down. Dane had swum on his college team and was able to reach the boat long before she did. He was on board with his hands on each of the man's shoulders as she reached them. Dane worked to calm the man down and she was able to put the pieces together. The man had lost track of his diving partner. His teenage son. The Coast Guard was on its way, but the man wanted Dane to go back down with him. She watched as Dane asked all the right questions. How long had the boy been down? What depth? About where did the man last see his son?
Zoe dipped her head toward the bottom, lifted her feet in the air and let her weight sink before she began pumping her legs. Dane would catch up. She had plenty of air. Plenty of time to find a single diver as long as the boy hadn't wandered off.
She passed an extensive cluster of clubbed finger coral before she spotted Dane. He nodded his head in acknowledgement and checked his way. A head stuck out from between two larger hill formations. Surely, the boy wasn't hiding, was he?
Cautiously, she approached him. As she looked around, she determined he was definitely alone and looked to be the right age. Placing her hands up, she faced her palms to him as she approached.
He was shaking and holding one of his legs. Between his fingers, blood oozed from a cut. The corals could be sharp as knives. The boy pointed up. A single bull shark circled far above. Bull sharks were small and could be aggressive. Generally, she would teach her scuba diving students to keep a wide berth from any shark and simply keep an eye on it. If divers didn't tease them or try to feed them, an attack was extremely rare.
This boy either didn't have that lesson or was terrified his bleeding leg might cause an attack. She supposed it was a possibility.
Dane looked to the boy, moved his glance to the shark, then back to the boy. He pulled a knife from his waist and swam ahead of them. Zoe was sure it was meant only to reassure the boy and yet...
She lifted the kid's air gauge, checked the level. It read empty. How long had he been down here? Bubbles continued to escape his breathing apparatus telling her that although his time may be up soon, it wasn't yet. Her eyes moved to the boy's. Tears pooled in his face mask.
She checked her depth device. Fifty feet. Keeping an eye on Dane and the shark, she took hold of the boy and guided him from his hiding place. Together, they rose to twenty-five feet and stopped just as his bubbles died. She grabbed his shoulders hard before the panic she read in his eyes had a chance to consume him. She removed her mouthpiece and turned it, setting it in front of his mouth. He spit out his mouthpiece and grabbed Zoe's. He took two slow breaths. She was infinitely impressed. The boy's fingers clamped her forearms, but he remembered his certification training. Keep calm. Take slow, shallow breaths.
They took turns taking two breaths until it was time to lift to ten feet, where they began to repeat the procedure. Two sharks. No, three. It was her turn to remember her certification training. The boy's father's boat was close enough that she could see the dad hanging over the side, waving his arms. The sharks didn't circle, didn't show any signs of agitation but certainly had smelled the blood. She decided the danger of the sharks trumped decompression sickness. Dane may have been having fun swimming near danger, but she wasn't taking any chances.
She tugged on the boy and swam using as little movement as possible. The boy was a lanky teenager, but he was full grown. His father pulled him into the boat—tank and all—as if he was as light as a toddler.
She turned to check on Dane. He was nearly to her. Shit, he was fast. Sounds of joyous cries erupted from the teen and his father as she and Dane headed away from their boat.
Chapter 25
Dane grabbed Zoe and put distance between them and the man's boat before the Coast Guard arrived with their questions and forms. When they returned to the boat he'd rented, he first unlocked the glove box and checked his phone. Six missed calls from a blocked number. He called Miriam, reassuring her they were okay and giving her the condensed version of what made them take so long to check in.
Zoe was better with people than any other person he knew. She moved to the bow of the boat and lay on her back, likely contemplating what had just happened down there. He opened the box that held the phone and took out some drinks. He crawled up and lay next to her. The waves rocked them as the sun warmed and dried.
Distant sounds of laughter and hoots of successful dives carried on around them, but they were alone. Alone on their boat island for some well-needed R & R.
"How is she?" Zoe asked, referring to Miriam.
"Spooked that we didn't call. She's starting to act motherly."
Zoe lifted her brows. "Which is creepy since she was dating my brother."
A small moment of silence followed her light mention of Seth. It was the first flippant comment he could remember about him since... well... since he went missing. "You were amazing down there."
She didn't deny it but didn't agree either.
A look of deep concentration came over her face. She rotated and sat, crossing her legs and facing him. "Thank you for this," she said and gestured to the water around them. "But it's not Australia. I'm keeping you from what you love. From what you want."
Frustrated, he sat and faced her. "Babe." He looked from one of her eyes to the other, searching for something. He wasn't sure what. Taking both of her hands between one of his, he reached in his pocket. "You are what I love. You are what I want."
He took the ring and held it out to her. "I want to love you forever. I want to share a home with you. I want you to have our children. I want you to say you'll marry me."
"I can't breathe." Tears ran freely down her flushed cheeks. She shook her hands like she'd just burned them. But she wasn't holding out any fingers and certainly not the one on her left hand.
"Will you marry me?" he said, no longer relieved.
"Yes," she said and tackled him to the fiberglass, nearly making him drop the ring. Her lips were soft and eager, and they were his. Forever. He pushed the cowboy hat from her wet hair and laced the fingers from his free hand through the waves of brown. Only Zoe Clearwater would forget about the ring, he thought, as fervent lips found his and strong arms wrapped around his back.
He pushed away and lifted, propping himself on an elbow. He held out the ring and turned his head, keeping his eyes on her expression.
The green sparkled as she studied it like a treasure unearthed from deep in the sand. Pointing to each of the smaller diamonds, she said, "These are you and I." Then, she tapped the larger stone in the middle. "This is us when we're together. Bigger. Stronger. It's beautiful. Thank you." Her tears dripped on the back of his hand as he slipped it on her finger.
He groaned and lowered himself over her.
* * *
"Other than the Tiki Bar, Show Me's is the only other place on the island with dancing," Zoe said to Raine. She didn't want to have an engagement announcement party without one of her sisters. And the Tiki Bar was out of the question. The owners had found a federal loophole and broke every turtle-safe law on the island. "Mom and Dad are coming. Come on. It's a Monday night, and we're meeting at eight. What else do you have to do?"
Raine sat on her heels in the sand, her knees resting on a towel. "Maybe I have a date."
Zoe let out a long laugh.
Since federal and state laws require nest excavations seven days after hatching, Raine had an arm nearly shoulder deep in the hole she'd dug. Since this was a green nest, the hole would need to go deeper yet. Zoe vowed to get her excavation and relocation permit this winter when Raine offered her courses for the island volunteers.
"All
right, I'll go, but if Blake Eaton is there, I'm not making any promises about keeping my mouth shut."
"Dear sister, we wouldn't expect any less of you." There was good reason Raine was the way she was. She devoted her life to the conservation of a species only to pull in adults that had been drowned from fishing nets or ropes. She'd peeled hatchlings off the road from disorientations that took them inward toward illegal lighting. She'd saved grown turtles with boat propeller cuts so brutally deep, she didn't see how they survived. Often times, they didn't.
Zoe looked around as Raine pulled out the first dead hatchling. Yes. She knew why Raine was the way she was. It was hard to watch, so Zoe forced her gaze outward. The water was choppy, but it didn't seem to scare the children or the birds. The children rushed the waves, diving fearlessly into them. The birds ran in and out like the water was moving lava.
She could spot a local, and she could spot a tourist. She appreciated both. The former gave the island roots and TLC. The latter provided life to Ibis.
The man she spotted didn't fit either description. It wasn't Chief Roberts. She would recognize him even out of his uniform and uncharacteristically out of his office. The man wore new sandals much too expensive for trudging through the sand. His Bermuda shorts still held the seams from sitting folded on a shelf in a clothing store. Regardless, she rubbed the spot on her arm where Roberts had bruised her even though the mark was long gone.
"We've got a live one," Raine announced.
Sure enough, tenderly, Raine pulled out a tiny, squirming hatchling. She held it between its back and underside as its flippers tried to swim away in the air. Placing it in the box top Raine had prepared next to the nest, she reached in and found another. And another. Soon, she had five piles. Dead turtles, live ones, unfertilized eggs, shell fragments, and full shells for tallying data. All would be recorded on the nest's data page on her tablet and eventually reported to the state.
Soon, Zoe vowed. She would no longer be the only Clearwater sister who couldn't hold one of those little guys.
