Deep Waters (The Security Specialists)

by Jessica R. Patch

  “What’s the matter?” He did the Clint Eastwood squint.

  How many times would he catch her gawking? It was hard not to. She fiddled with a button on her shirt. “Nothing. Why?”

  Cocking his head, he searched her eyes, working to ferret out the truth. She held firm until he grunted and scanned the room.

  Phew. “I’d like to get the office back in working order. I’ll need to work from here more often until Miss Whittle is better. But I do have to give a tour of the facility today, make a few calls regarding the upcoming gala and I have patients to see.”

  “Turtles?”

  “Yes. We logged four stranded turtles two days ago. They’re suffering from SCUD.” Poor creatures. “But it’s treatable with a course of antibiotics. I want to check on them. Ten more days and I can release them.” Best part of her job.

  “What’s SCUD? Because when you say that I think missile.”

  She hid a smirk. “Of course you do, soldier.” She motioned for him to follow her to the office. They could walk and talk. And work and talk. Although Caley was hyperaware that she’d carry the bulk of the conversation.

  Inside the office, she kicked at the debris. “SCUD is short for septicemic cutaneous ulcerative disease.”

  “I like SCUD.”

  She laughed. It was much easier to remember. She piled books that had been knocked from the shelf into her arms while Shep went to task collecting papers and files and stacking them on her desk.

  “It’s basically skin rot. Which can be deadly to turtles. And for some reason I’m seeing more of it this year than ever before. Usually, I see maybe two turtles all year with it.”

  Shep moved swiftly. Even when his body wasn’t moving, it was obvious the wheels in his head were. Never still. Caley had studied the way he observed everything from the content of the bookshelves to the way Miss Whittle made tea. Observing wasn’t just part of being a solider; no, it was all Shepherd. Maybe he’d been forced to scrutinize things and people in his years as a foster child to protect himself. The thought that he might have never been safe to play or be oblivious broke her heart a little.

  “Why turtles?” he suddenly asked. “You read a book or something as a kid?”

  What he meant was why not some sort of law enforcement. Even Meghan had worked in a crime lab. Caley hesitated, but he’d stopped cleaning and had given her his undivided attention. Which was saying something for a man who could split his attention in a dozen different directions at once and still keep up.

  “When I was seven, my grandpa was killed in the line of duty. Armed robber at a gas station.” She shook her head. Gramps had been her world. “I don’t know if seven-year-olds can be depressed, but I think I was. Or simply drowning in grief. It was summer and we’d buried him a few weeks earlier. One afternoon, I was sitting by the pool, not even swimming, just dangling my feet and... Meghan brought me a turtle from the pond.”

  “You made him a pet?”

  Caley blinked back tears. She missed Gramps every day. And Meghan. “No. That’s what Meghan suggested. To make me feel better. But I thought putting the turtle in a box would be like putting Gramps in the casket. I didn’t like that—seeing him in a casket. Trapped in a box. And I didn’t want to do that to the turtle.”

  Shep cocked his head, held her gaze so intensely she thought he might be able to pull the rest of the story straight from her mind. It alarmed her and sent an uncontrollable spark through her middle.

  “I know that sounds strange. He was gone.”

  “No, it doesn’t. And...you were seven.”

  Caley adjusted her glasses. “I walked down to the pond, studying the markings on his back. The designs mesmerized me and for the first time since he died, I wasn’t sad or thinking of Gramps. I was saving a turtle from a casket. I knelt down in the mud, placed him on the bank and waited.”

  “Did he go into the water?”

  “Yeah. After a while. He inched in, submerged and then he came back up. And I tell you...he looked at me. Like he was saying thanks. And I knew then all I’d ever want to do is study and rescue turtles.”

  Every day as she worked, she carried a part of Gramps. And Meghan.

  “Probably sounds weird to you,” she said.

  “No. Not weird at all.” Shep graced her with a half-cocked grin and resumed cleaning. Caley had never shared that story before.

  Strange how easy it was to talk to him. Especially when he didn’t really talk back much. “What about you, Shep?” She wanted him to, though. “Why did you choose the marines?”

  “I wasn’t a fan of the navy.” His face remained stoic, but she caught it. In his eyes. A small, quick measure of teasing. She’d remember that face. In case he ever joked again.

  “Don’t you let Wilder hear that,” she teased back. Guess he wasn’t going to open up. Disappointment sat on the edge of her heart, but Shep wasn’t that kind of guy.

  “I can take Wilder.”

  “I—” She was going to say she doubted that. But she wasn’t so sure. Wilder might have an inch on Shepherd at six-three, but Shep had an edge with his intense observation skills. He’d be able to anticipate Wilder’s moves, and he might have a few extra pounds of muscle, but not much. Also, Wilder might kill her if he knew she was rooting for Shepherd Lightman and not her big brother. “I’m sure you’d give him a good run for his money.”

  “I’d leave him bankrupt.” Another tease. It was in the eyes.

  She giggled as they continued to clean the office and reorganize it. Afterward, Caley straightened her bedroom while Shep went out and brought a late lunch in for them and Miss Whittle. Mrs. Amberly arrived an hour later with an old black-and-white movie starring Clark Gable, and Caley and Shep drove to the center.

  Before she got out of the car, Shep shifted in his seat. “You need to be prepared for Fines not to respond the way you’re anticipating.”

  “He may not see the connection between Mary Beth’s death and her dorm room, but now that my house has been ransacked and my tank tampered with—because I believe it has—he won’t deny that they have to be linked.”

  “And if he does?” Shep asked.

  “Then I don’t know. But he’s not tied to any of it. If I know anything, I know that.” Caley stepped from the car.

  “He was too quick to dismiss you and your theory. I don’t get a good feeling about him.” Shep walked her to the entrance.

  Granted, she didn’t like the way he brushed it off initially either. He’d been thinking of their careers—of his career—and it needled her, but he wasn’t a murderer. Shep hadn’t been here six months ago when the media had skewed everything about their turtle rehabilitation, slandering their work until it gained the attention of animal protestors who spent two weeks picketing the center. Nora Simms had been fit to be tied and threatened their jobs.

  “Mary Beth’s death was a blow to us all. He’s had time to process everything now. I think you’ll find he’s not the man you first met.” She marched into the center, Shep on her tail. Familiar smells of the briny ocean and bleach from the floors flooded her senses. She loved this job. Losing it would kill her.

  Sweeping the truth under the rug would also kill her. Mary Beth deserved justice.

  A crowd was touring. Toby Anders, a tech in the lab, showered the group with fun facts and information about turtles. It always warmed her heart to see the enthusiasm among tourists. The fact that they showed up proved they cared about the animals. About the ecosystem. About marine life.

  She walked through the center, Shep beside her, waved at the two girls working the information booth, then strode through the employees-only door. A long hallway was lined with offices on the left and a large marine lab with glass windows on the right. At the end of the hall was the door to the equipment room.

  Dr. Fines’s office was next to hers. Last one on the left. She knocked and received an irritated invitation to enter. She glanced at Shep. As usual he scowled. They entered together and Dr. Fines frowned, but h
e stood and extended his hand to Shep. “I don’t believe we’ve formally met.”

  “Shepherd Lightman.”

  “Caley’s friend who’s investigating the accident?” He ran his hands through his salt-and-pepper hair.

  “It’s not an accident, Leo. There have been some new developments.” Caley placed her palms on Leo’s desk and leaned forward. “My oxygen tank was tampered with yesterday and someone ransacked my home. Like Mary Beth’s dorm room. My landlord was hurt.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your landlord, Caley.” Leo rubbed his chin. “How do you know someone tampered with your tank?” She explained what happened.

  “Has the dive expert confirmed your theory?” Leo asked.

  “Not yet. We should be hearing back soon, but I’ve done over four hundred dives. That wasn’t a random glitch.”

  “Maybe not. But you don’t know that yet.” Leo’s lips pursed.

  He was being cautious in case the tank’s messing up was a fluke. But... “Why would someone trash my house on the heels of doing the same thing to Mary Beth’s room? Someone is looking for something.”

  Leo sat in his leather chair and swiveled it, staring out the window. “Like what?”

  Excellent question. “Who knows?”

  “Have you shared these new developments with anyone else?” he asked.

  “You mean Nora Simms?” How could he be so self-absorbed right now? He was her mentor. Didn’t he care about her? About Mary Beth? “No. But we have a—”

  “Hunch that this thing is going to keep going sideways, and if it escalates, it’s going to get out there,” Shep said. Why hadn’t he let her inform Leo they had a police contact on the inside? That might put Leo’s nerves at ease.

  Leo studied Shep, then looked at Caley. “Do you know for sure that these break-ins are connected?”

  “My gut says so.”

  “Your gut.” His tone carried frustration and irritation. “Caley, listen to me carefully. If you press this...if the media gets wind of any of this...if Nora does...everything we stand for, everything we’ve worked for is down the tubes. We can’t take a financial hit. We need every donor we have and new ones. And we need this grant.”

  Caley stole a peek at Shep. Eyes like steel.

  “Leo, I can’t ignore what has happened. And I don’t understand why you are.” She folded her arms, hoping for a good answer.

  Leo pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Caley. I’m stressed. Having your friend here is going to stir up talk. Turtle Bay is a small community. Someone is bound to figure out who he is and put two and two together or spin their own false tale.”

  They didn’t have time to worry about false tales. They had a dead intern and a killer on the loose who was determined to come after her. How much longer until he raised the stakes to get what he wanted?

  Shep leaned forward and down to get at eye level with Leo. “Until I know Caley is safe—because clearly I’m the only one around here who actually cares for her safety—I’m not leaving. I don’t care if rumors abound. Used to those anyway. Someone tried to scare her at best or take a shot on her life at worst. You have a dead intern. Two places tossed. Turn a blind eye for the sake of your life’s work. Suits me. We don’t need your permission, pal.” He bored a hole into Leo that would make a shark shiver.

  Leo opened his mouth and his cell rang. He glanced down and scowled. “I have to take this. And it’s private.”

  “Said everything that needed saying.” Shep saluted and strode to the door, where he waited for Caley.

  “Leo, this isn’t you. What’s going on?”

  “Hello,” he answered his phone. “Hold on.” He covered the speaker. “For your own good, stop meddling. Please.”

  “What does that mean?” she demanded.

  “It means Nora has the power to get you blackballed. You’ll never have a career again. Never get another grant no matter where you work,” he whispered.

  “Well, so be it then. Because finding the truth about Mary Beth’s death means more to me than that and it should mean more to you.”

  He pointed to the phone. “I have to take this. See yourself out.”

  Caley gaped. “I can’t believe you. I don’t...I don’t even know you.” Her heart ached and fire raced through her bones. She stepped into the hallway and held back tears.

  Could Shep have been right all along? Could Leo Fines know something about what was happening? And if so, how deep in was he?

  * * *

  Shep wasn’t a fan of Leo Fines. The man was at the top of his suspect list, so the last thing he wanted was Caley telling him they had a police detective unofficially investigating. And even if he wasn’t in on these attacks, he was still a class-A jerk for hurting Caley. She’d been devoted to him. Loyal. And he’d crushed her in that office.

  After the conversation, Caley had mentioned she needed to be alone and walk the beach. Shep had watched from a distance, his Sig Sauer in hand. An hour later, she’d returned and worked on the gala event until her phone rang.

  “Hello? Hey, Sal, hold on I’m gonna put you on speaker.” She put him on speaker and mouthed, Scuba expert. “Well?” she asked.

  “I’d like to say it was a freak occurrence, but it wasn’t.”

  Shep wasn’t surprised. Caley slumped in her chair.

  “The spring in the valve on the top of the cylinder was tampered with. Someone put a little pin in it.”

  Caley squeezed her eyes shut and chomped her lower lip.

  “Which was smart because to tamper with anything else wouldn’t make a hill of beans, not with the tank you own.”

  What did that mean? Shep could dive but he wasn’t up on newer equipment or dive technology. He snapped to get Caley’s attention.

  She opened her eyes and sat up in her chair.

  He shook his head.

  “I have a friend with me. You’re on speaker and he’s looking at me weirdly. Let me explain it to him.” She turned to Shep. “My tank is designed so that if anything were to malfunction I’d actually get more air, not less. A free flow. But by putting a pin in the valve on the top of the cylinder, it made it appear fine until I dived. As I used the air, the cylinder pressure decreased and then the pin just shut the valve down at some point.”

  Shep balled his fists. “And you’re sure that’s what happened?”

  “I’m looking at the pin right now,” Sal said.

  Someone had taken a direct shot at Caley. Heat filled his belly and burned clear to his head. Whoever did this would be found. Shep wouldn’t stop until he reached the culprit.

  “Thanks, Sal.” She hung up. “Well, now what? Do we march into Leo’s office with this hard evidence? Make him face the truth, shake him out of denial?”

  Denial? Is that what Caley thought was going on? When would she wake up and see Leo Fines was concealing something? What if he was Mystery Man? An affair with an intern would be terrible for his career. But how to reveal his suspicions to Caley without her coming unglued? She was angry with Leo, but didn’t seem to suspect him of anything other than being too wrapped up in his career.

  It was Caley’s career too, but she cared more about Mary Beth than turtles. Her story about falling in love with them had shifted another portion of his heart. He hadn’t expected that either.

  “Fines isn’t interested in the evidence.” And if he was connected, Shep wasn’t going to continue to update him on their findings. “But we do need to call Detective Tom Kensington with the newest developments and let him work the other end of this. He can print the tank, though I doubt we’ll get any prints other than the ones that should be on it.” Especially if the interns and staff rotated putting oxygen in the tanks. Someone smart wouldn’t leave their prints on the pin in the valve spring. “I’ll make the call.”

  “I can’t believe Leo would ignore lives that were supposed to mean something to him to protect his career. I love this job too. I don’t want to lose it, but I don’t want to die! And I don’t want M
ary Beth’s killer to roam free and not pay for his crime.”

  He smirked. She may not want to be a part of law enforcement like her family, but the passion to protect and seek justice ran deep in her DNA. He admired it. Admired her tenacity. “Then let’s figure this out.”

  “How about over a pound of crab legs and some shrimp scampi.” She adjusted her glasses again, a habit he was coming to admire, as well.

  “I could eat.”

  “There’s a little place overlooking the ocean. Reasonably priced too.” She led the way to Shep’s rental car and climbed inside. Her hands flexed and she gnawed her bottom lip.

  “Hey,” he said.

  She glanced at him as she clicked her seat belt into place.

  “Stop worrying. I can keep you safe. You have my word.” May not seem like much to her, but he meant it. Whatever it cost, he’d do it.

  “Is it that obvious? I’m trying to be strong. I keep thinking, ‘What would Wilder do? How would Meghan have responded?’ She was so brave when that crazy stalker was after her. I don’t know what I’d have done. I’m...” She shrugged.

  She was what? A weird sensation to take her hand overwhelmed him.

  That was new.

  He balled his fist instead. He was here to guard her. That’s it. The only touching he planned to do was if he needed to toss her out of harm’s way. “Little Flynn, I don’t know what you were about to say and I’m not one to pry. So I’ll just say this. You’re risking your life and career to find out who killed Mary Beth and who is coming after you. That’s proactive. That’s brave.” He cranked the engine. “Now fix your glasses, which are drooping off your nose, and give me the coordinates to this crab shack.”

  She stared at him long enough to make him uncomfortable, then pushed her dark frames into place. “Thanks for the pep talk, Shep. It means a lot coming from you.”

  He grunted. Compliments weren’t his thing either.

  Twenty minutes later, they were seated at a table on a dock overlooking the Gulf. Seagulls circled and cawed in a sky devoid of a single cloud. A huge tiki umbrella shielded them from the merciless heat. Tourists with too much sun gathered at nearby tables enjoying a surf-and-turf lunch. The smell of seafood, grilled beef and salt from the ocean wafted on the breeze rolling in.