by Melissa Good
DeSalliers’ small boat circled behind it, with a diver’s flag out.
Dar could see faces turned her way, full of anger and resentment as she approached their position. She reduced speed to almost an idle, wishing she could better see what they were up to.
Two of the men pointed at her and shouted, and Dar’s quick hearing detected the distinctive sound of a camera shutter closing.
Occupied with the delicate task of maneuvering the tiny path she’d been given, looking wasn’t possible, but by the looks on the faces on that boat, she could guess what Kerry was up to.
Gotta love her. Dar watched her depth meter anxiously, tapping the throttles to get them past a bulge in the seawall.
The small boat cut toward them and got in her way. Dar slowed and let out a warning blast on their air horn. The men yelled and pointed at Kerry. Dar raised her middle finger to them and tapped the throttles. As the boat skimmed closer, Dar glanced behind her to where the stern of the Dixie cleared DeSalliers’ boat, the bow emptying of people as Kerry’s lens swept over them. “Kerry, hang on!” she yelled back, as she threw the boat hard to one side, then gunned the engines and reversed course, building a wake that smacked into the smaller boat and sent it half onto its side.
One of the men on the boat catapulted over the side and the boat swerved, its occupants screaming at her in words that the wind ripped away into incoherence. Dar wrapped her legs around the captain’s chair and swept past them into the island’s small, protected harbor. A flush of wild triumph washed through her, muting the anger and forcing a chuckle from her throat at her successful maneuver. They left DeSalliers behind, and she pulled slowly into the cramped dock.
He wasn’t finished, however. “Roberts.”
Dar eyed the radio with a smirk.
“You only think you got away with that.”
Dar eased the Dixie into an open slip, not a difficult task since most of them were unoccupied. She picked up the radio. “You only think you let me,” she replied. “Have a great day.” With that, she dropped the mic onto the console and shut down the engines, leaped to her feet, and headed for the ladder.
178 Melissa Good Kerry was standing on the stern deck, wrapped in a jacket and pale faced. She turned as Dar slid down the ladder and let the camera looped around her neck rest on her chest. “Wow,” she exhaled.
Dar hopped to the railing, then onto the dock to secure their lines. “Wow wasn’t the word I had in mind,” she responded, as she leaped back onto the deck. “Stupid son of a bitch. I don’t know what the hell he thinks he’s doing, or who he thinks he is, or what the hell he’s looking for, but…”
A loud clank made them both jump. They froze for an instant, then moved to the other side of the boat and looked down.
“Me,” a bedraggled, ragged figure was hanging on to one of their buoy lines, “is what he’s looking for.”
Kerry gripped the railing and blinked. “Bob?” she uttered.
Dar gaped at him. “Son of a…”
Bob tugged off his mask and coughed, his face pale and strained. “Fifty psi left.” He looked completely drained. “He almost got me.”
Dar and Kerry looked at each other. Kerry rubbed her eyes, very obviously at a complete loss. She gave Dar a plaintive, sheepish look and lifted both hands in appeal.
Dar scratched the back of her head and then shook it, having nothing really to add to the emotion. Substituting action for reaction, she leaned over the railing and extended a hand. “Gimme your gear,” she directed. “Come ’round to the back. There’s a ladder.”
Bob gave her a wry look. “Thanks.” He unbuckled his BC and tank, and lifted them high enough for Dar to grab. “I know I’m not what you wanted to find hanging off your lines.” His eyes shifted to Kerry, then dropped.
“At this point…” Kerry walked over to the deck chairs and sat down on one, despite its dampness, “if Harry Houdini showed up clipped to the rudder, it wouldn’t surprise me.” She slumped in the chair, the fever and residual effects of the jellyfish poison taking over as the adrenaline faded.
Dar set Bob’s scuba gear in the corner and let the ladder down.
She put a hand on Kerry’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. “I’m going to go see if Bud’s at home. Hang in there, love.” She started to jump to the dock, and then paused, pointing a finger at Bob, who had just emerged wearily onto the deck. “Mess with her, and I’ll tie you to that pylon and call your friends to come pick you up. Got me?”
Bob froze, and looked at her, wide eyed. “Yes, ma’am,” he squeaked, at the menacing scowl directed at him.
“And when I get back, you’re gonna tell us what the hell’s going on,” Dar added in a growl. “So get your story ready.” She Terrors of the High Seas 179
turned and leaped for the dock, landing gracefully and stalking toward the shore.
Bob sat down on the stern rail and blinked at Kerry, who gazed wanly back at him. “I can guess what you must be thinking,” he murmured awkwardly.
“No, you can’t,” Kerry sighed, putting aside images of bubbles and hot fudge. “Really.”
“Oh.” Bob studied the deck. “Hey, listen, I’m sorry I—”
Kerry gently cut him off. “It’s okay.”
Bob peeked up at her, noticing her pallor. “Are you sick or something?”
“I got stung by a jellyfish,” Kerry told him. “It’s been kind of a crappy day.” She exhaled, turning her eyes toward the shore and willing Dar to reappear. “Hopefully, it won’t get worse.”
Prudently, Bob kept his thoughts strictly to himself.
BUD STRAIGHTENED, RESTING his hand on the edge of the bed as he knelt next to it. On the bedside rested a small, olive-drab kit, a coiled stethoscope sitting snakelike on top.
Kerry was lying quietly on the bed, the covers pulled up to her waist. Her eyes moved between Bud and the visibly restless Dar lurking behind him, and a faint smile crossed her face. “Find anything?”
“Jelly sting’s fine.” Bud issued a half shrug. “Ain’t much you can do for that ’cept what Dar did.” He glanced behind him, then looked back at Kerry. “Fever’s from a bug. Here.” He tossed a packet onto her chest. “Penicillin. Take one now, then every twelve hours for two days.” He paused. “Unless you’re allergic to it.”
“I’m not.” Kerry shook her head slightly. “Thank you, Bud. I really appreciate this.”
He got up and turned to Dar. “You wanna tell me what the crap on the radio was all about?”
Dar considered the question. Bob was tucked away in the spare room across the hall, keeping silent. She wanted to get to the bottom of his story, but she knew Bud deserved some kind of explanation, especially since he’d dropped everything to come and check Kerry out. “Sure.”
Behind them, Kerry was swallowing one of the tablets Bud had provided her, drinking down the rest of the bottle of water that had been sitting at her bedside. Her nose wrinkled a little at the pungent scent of the antibiotic, but she was glad to trade that for the chills wracking her again. “Why don’t you go grab some coffee, Dar? I’m just going to lie here and vegetate for a while.”
Dar studied her, pale blue eyes shadowed and the brows over them tensed and lowered. After a moment, however, she nodded.
180 Melissa Good
“Sounds good to me. Bud?”
Bud picked up his kit and grunted. “Java works.” He looked briefly at Kerry. “Drink water. It’ll get that crap out of you.” With that, he turned and followed Dar out of the bedroom.
Kerry pulled the covers up higher and looked up at the open hatch admitting a splash of sunlight that brought out the warm colors in the comforter. She still felt lousy, but knowing what the problem was eased her mind and erased some of the fear that had started to nibble away at her composure. She’d been afraid that the fever had been connected to the sting, and that maybe the sting had been something other than a jellyfish. She’d read enough horror stories about marine snakes and their venom for all sorts of bad ideas to begin circu
lating, but Bud’s words—along with the fact that the sting mark was fading—reassured her immensely.
As the tension faded, fatigue replaced it and she found she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Though she wanted to hear Bob’s explanation, she knew it would have to wait until Bud left. Kerry felt the gentle rocking of the boat soothing her and she surrendered to it, allowing sleep to finally claim her in its healing embrace.
“SO,” BUD EXAMINED the cup of coffee Dar had provided him, “what’s the gig?”
Dar had seated herself across from him, and she took a swallow from her own cup before she answered. “Guy who chased us the other night,” she said, “he’s a big-money treasure hunter.”
Bud sipped his coffee, holding the cup in his whole hand rather than by the handle. “DeSalliers. We heard,” he said. “He’s a right bastard.”
“Mm,” Dar agreed. “He wants something off that wreck we dove the other day,” she said. “He wouldn’t say what.” Her eyes studied Bud’s face. “The kid we picked up the other night’s also after something on the same wreck.”
Bud’s grizzled eyebrows lifted in surprise. “No shit?”
Dar shrugged.
The retired sailor leaned back, his attitude relaxing and opening a little. “It’s just an old trawler. I’ve dived it,” he said.
“Got some nice holes for lobsters, but that’s about it.” He frowned.
“Though…” His voice trailed off. “Now, hold on.”
Dar leaned forward, cocking her head.
Bud tapped his forehead with two powerful fingers.
“Remember a story I heard some years after that damn thing sank,”
he muttered. “Somethin’ about how maybe some kinda fight on board made it go under in the storm.” He got up and prowled through the cabin, his muscular body shifting under the light tank top he wore. “Didn’t really pay attention to it.”
Terrors of the High Seas 181
Dar watched him stop and study a picture on the wall, then turn and look out the window. “But that was years back.”
Bud nodded. “Yeap, it was.” He turned and regarded her. “So, why drag it up?” he asked. “Cops just buried it back then. No one cared.” He walked back over and sat down. “Charlie’d remember.
He listens to all that crap.”
“He around?” Dar asked casually.
“Be back ’round sunset,” Bud replied. “Had to go over to the big island for something.” He leaned back, seemingly relaxed.
“Hey, listen. Charlie told me about what you offered. Thanks.” His eyes met hers. “I know I act like a jerk sometimes. Sorry.”
Dar eased into a more comfortable position. “Going to take me up on it?” she asked directly.
Bud shook his head. “We’re fine.” He dismissed the idea. “I worked something out.” His eyes roamed over the inside of the boat again. “So now what?”
“With DeSalliers?” Dar asked.
Bud nodded. “He took off out of the harbor. Headed east.”
Figures. Dar leaned her head against the back of the chair. “I dunno,” she mused. “First thing’s first—Kerry needs to get well.”
She looked over at him. “Thanks for checking her out.”
Bud issued a rare smile. “She’s a nice kid,” he allowed.
“Sweet.”
Dar felt her own face relax into a return grin.
“Never figured you to get all wrapped up like that,” Bud drawled. “Thought you’d end up a lonely old salt and not ever been in the Navy for it.”
Dar’s nostrils flared slightly. “I thought I would too,” she admitted. “Life’s weird sometimes.”
Bud nodded, then set his cup down and stood up. “I gotta get the kitchen cranked up for Charlie,” he said. “Heard some weather’s brewing up east of here.”
“Great.” Dar sighed. “Next time, I swear I’m gonna go skiing.”
Bud snorted. “Holler if Kerry’s feelin any worse.” He put the cup down in the galley sink. “I’ll send Rufus down to let you know when Charlie gets here.”
“Thanks.” Dar stood and walked him to the door. They were about the same height, and his slight rolling swagger reminded her strongly of her father. She was glad Bud’s attitude had softened a little. Maybe he’d just needed a little while to think things through.
They emerged onto the stern deck to a wash of late afternoon sunlight filtering through the trees. The air bore the sweet scent of gardenias, and a sense of quiet peace pervaded the scene. In somber contrast to the chaos of the previous hours, now the sleepy spell of the tropical sea surrounded them as the tide lapped gently at the docks.
182 Melissa Good Bud stepped off the boat and lifted a hand, then turned and walked back up toward the buildings without a word or backward glance.
Dar leaned against the cabin and watched him for a moment. A few more puzzle pieces seemed to have been delivered to her, and now she took them, juggling them mentally as she went back inside the cabin to collect a few more. “Now,” she eyed the spare bedroom, “let’s put two and two together and see if we get something other than zero.” With a determined look, she headed for Bob’s hiding place.
THE SUN WAS setting, slices of reddish gold light peeking through the hatches and splashing across the hardwood floor.
Kerry gazed fuzzily at them, then blinked her eyes open wider and stifled a yawn. Hearing low voices nearby, she cocked her head to listen, recognizing them after a moment as Dar’s and Bob’s.
Her head seemed clearer, and it hurt less. Kerry stretched, grateful for that. She could still feel a little chill and there was an ache in her bones, but she found her curiosity prodding her past the discomfort and urging her to get up and go find out what was going on.
Accordingly, she eased out of bed and padded over to the dresser, removing a sweatshirt from the bottom drawer and tugging it on over her head. She paused a moment, sniffing the distinctive smell of home in its folds, then pulled it down into place. She stopped by the dresser and peeked at her reflection. “Uck.” She picked up Dar’s brush and ran it through her hair, settling it into some kind of order. Then she eased out the door and into the main cabin. Dar was sitting in one of the easy chairs, facing Bob. Dar’s eyes lifted as Kerry entered and her face shifted into a warm smile, which Kerry returned. “Hey.”
Bob turned around. “Oh. Hi.”
“How’re you feeling?” Dar asked.
“Eh.” Kerry cleared her throat. “What’s going on out here?”
She went into the galley and retrieved a bottle of juice, pulling off the top as she trudged over to where Dar was seated and plopped into the chair next to her. She tucked her feet up under her and leaned on the arm, sipping her juice quietly.
“I was…um…just kind of getting into why I’m here,” Bob said.
“But first, I’d kinda like to apologize for getting you both mixed up in all this,” he went on. “When I came out here, I thought I could get in and get out, and no one would be the wiser.”
Dar reached over and scratched Kerry’s back lightly. “All right, let me get this straight,” she said. “Your grandfather was the captain of that fishing trawler that went down just west of here.”
Terrors of the High Seas 183
Bob nodded. “Right.”
“He left a fortune.”
“Right.”
“The fortune went to his eldest son, your uncle,” Dar continued.
“Right.”
“Nobody else got anything.”
Bob nodded. “My uncle is tighter than a ten-year-old girdle.”
“I knew money had to be at the root of this,” Kerry muttered in disgust, getting a startled look from Bob. “Let me guess—grandpa took a treasure chest with him, and you’re trying to find a few pieces of eight to raise a family on, right?”
“Um. No.” Bob exhaled. “Actually, I’m trying to prove my uncle killed my grandfather, and get him charged with murder.”
Two perfectly still faces with identica
l expressions of startlement faced him for a long beat, then Dar and Kerry looked at each other. “O…okay,” Dar said. “You have reason to think he did it?”
Bob nodded. “If I can prove it, the will’s broken and the rest of the family will take over the inheritance,” he said. “Oh, I won’t pretend to altruism. I’m due for about a tenth of it. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life behind a desk, and that’ll keep me in style.”
Kerry sipped on her juice to keep herself from commenting.
“What the hell are you looking for?” Dar asked.
Bob gave her a wary look. “I can’t say,” he said. “It’s very confidential.”
Kerry rolled her eyes.
“It’s something of my grandfather’s,” Bob said hastily. “We thought it had been destroyed in a fire at his house, but just recently we found out it hadn’t.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“So, I decided to try and find it. I figured the wreck was the only place left to look.”
“You weren’t the only one, I guess,” Kerry finally commented.
“And, I guess you won’t be needing those scuba lessons, huh?”
Having been caught in his earlier lie, the young man cleared his throat and looked away. “DeSalliers boasted he was the best in the business, and my uncle hired him to salvage every speck of the wreck. He’s paying him a king’s ransom,” Bob admitted. “And his reputation is at stake.”
“That’s what he meant,” Kerry murmured, “about being hoisted on his own reputation.”
Bob stared at her. “You talked to him?”
“Long story,” Dar cut him off. “Your plan sucks. He almost caught you today, and if he’s got a few more days to get a salvage barge in place, you’re sunk.”
184 Melissa Good Bob blinked. “Um…well, yeah,” he confessed. “I thought I’d have more time. He surprised me.” He sighed. “I don’t know. It was probably a bad idea to begin with.”
Kerry scratched her jaw, her green eyes in wry agreement with him. “Even if you could find whatever this is, do you really think you can make a case against your uncle?” she asked skeptically.
“People with lots of power and money don’t give it up that easily.”
