Full Fathom Five - The Homicide Files (A Lincoln Munroe Novella, #1)
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come to Tobermory for the first time without seeing it.
It was fated anyway. Why else would a store across from the OPP detachment in Wiarton that sold bathing suits, towels, masks and snorkels be having a pre-summer sale? Everything necessary to introduce her to one of Ontario’s most majestic locations at thirty percent off.
I’d anchored the boat only a couple of minutes swim from the opening to the Grotto and as we made our way around I’m pretty sure I heard a ‘holy shit’ from a woman I’d never heard swear. It was a hell of a sight, a massive cave opening carved naturally out of the escarpment. And with the water level fairly high, we were able to swim right into the cave, the ceiling about twenty feet above our heads.
The cave went back pretty far, far enough that the water at the back was almost black in spots from the lack of light. But it was the brilliant blue in the central pool, light that came in from outside the cave through a tunnel in the rock, which gave the Grotto its aura.
After we’d both climbed out, climbed up the ledge on the inside of the cave and jumped back into the pool, it’s bottom a straight drop down I’d say thirty feet, we were ready. Kara’s nerves were showing, although it may have been the icy cold water that was making her shiver and shake.
We put our masks on, didn’t bother with the snorkels and I gave her the instructions. “Twenty feet down, about thirty out. Equalize on your way down. Look up above you as you come up, the rocks go out a ways. Don’t want to surface early and hit your head. I’ll be right behind you.”
“I don’t remember seeing this in the job description,” she said, then took a deep breath and went under. I waited just a couple of seconds then followed, equalizing as I went down and following the light out to the open waters of Georgian Bay. Kara took my advice and swam a good distance before she started to surface, furtive glances up letting her know when it was safe to rise.
When I came up beside her I was greeted by a splash of water in the face and the sound of a severely out of breath Kara.
“You could’ve killed me, you bastard,” she said, but she couldn’t hold back an excited laugh.
“Awesome, wasn’t it.”
“Absolutely exhilarating. But if this is how the first couple of days go,” she said, staggered between gasps of air, “I’m nervous for what the next couple of years hold.”
“That’s the best part of this job. Every day, it’s something new.”
Acknowledgments
THERE ARE ALWAYS THE USUAL suspects to thank—family and friends, readers and supporters. Each and every one of you plays a part in making these stories come to life.
A special thank you goes out to Cathy Schourek, beta-reader-extraordinaire, for taking the time to make this novella what it is, and for helping to correct me whenever I screwed up on those pesky ‘you and me’ vs. ‘you and I’ situations. Of course, if she keeps doing such a good job, I may actually have to start paying her.
All sarcasm aside, thank you, Cathy.
About the Author
HARRISON DRAKE IS THE PSEUDONYM of a Canadian writer and career police officer who has chosen anonymity in order to protect a safe, secure and quiet lifestyle for his family.
The author is hard at work on numerous other writing projects in numerous other genres. If he can’t be found at home, playing with his children or sitting in his lonely writer’s garret, he’ll be outside, gazing up at the night sky and searching for answers.
Website: https://www.HarrisonDrake.com/
Twitter: @HDrakeTheWriter