Off the coast of Alaska
Bering Sea
Three years earlier
“SWIMMER AWAY, SWIMMER’S OKAY!”
Lt. Commander Jales’s call was the last thing Petty Officer Nathan Malone heard as he leaped from the Jayhawk and plunged into the livid sea below. His body shot through the frigid water like a torpedo. He immediately resurfaced, the blade wash from the chopper beating him in the face, the torso. Adrenaline surged through him. Fear propelled him through the water, waves crashing against him. Over him. The sky was nearly as pitch-black as the water. Visibility zilch.
Addie.
He pushed toward the Zany Moe, swimming hard, fighting the roaring squall. His fiancée’s fishing boat lay on her starboard side, sinking below the dark water. Nathan scanned the boat, his eyes fastening on Addie’s red slicker. Not her guppy suit. Her arm lifted, waved, then she clutched the rail she was desperately holding on to as another wave swamped her.
Her first mate, Chip, was nowhere. Nathan scanned the choppy water and peered through the rain, looking for the inflatable Zodiac. Like Chip, it was nowhere.
Nathan swam closer to the Zany Moe, throwing arm over arm, pushing his weight against the stone-like waves. He shouted at Addie to jump, motioned with his hands. The roar of the storm deafened him, rang through his ears. She couldn’t hear him. But she’d understood. Addie nodded and slowly let go of the rail. Their eyes locked for a moment, and she took a step back then broke for the edge.
A wave crashed over the boat, over Addie, washing over Nathan’s head. When he bobbed up and cleared the water, he scanned the boat. The water.
Addie had disappeared.
Panic squeezed his throat, and with frantic desperation, he kicked out, swam hard to the bow that was slowly slipping beneath the black water.
“Addie!” he shouted, over and over. His eyes searched. He swam. Looking for just a piece of that red slicker. He ducked under, then back up. Nothing.
The Zany Moe was sinking down fast now, and with no captain manning the wheel, the violent, angry sea propelled the boat like a rubber toy in a bathtub. Nathan could feel the tug of the current as the steel plunged under the water. He pushed hard, refusing to give up. She was here. He hadn’t lost her.
“Addeline!” he shouted until his voice cracked. He swallowed seawater. He swallowed air. He darted his eyes everywhere as he panicked but saw nothing except gray, black and the white froth kicked up by the crashing waves. The waves grew, like being in rolling hills, and Addie was nowhere to be found.
He turned his eyes skyward and noticed the Jayhawk hovering overhead. His captain signaled and dropped the line. Nathan turned away, scanning frantically the gray swells and bursts of foam as the sea churned. No sign of Addeline. Not...anywhere. He screamed into the wind, until he had no air left, and his throat scorched from swallowing too much salt water. The sea spray from the blade wash as the chopper dropped closer blinded him. With his lungs burning, he swam to his line, and the chopper pulled him up. Nathan kept his eyes fastened on the angry waters below. He couldn’t see from down there, bobbing in the storm, being tossed around. They’d find her. From the Jayhawk, he’d be able to see that red coat. Just over that next hill of water. That next wave. She’d be there, waiting. He’d find Addie.
He wasn’t leaving until he did.
Nathan clung to the edge of the open door of the Jayhawk as they searched for hours. Dread filled his insides with each ticking moment that passed. She’d not been wearing her guppy suit. The damn thing he’d told her more than once to put on at the first sign of any trouble. It was insulated. It’d keep her warm if she ended up in the icy water.
She’d been wearing only that damned red rubber coat.
Four hours passed before they found Chip, dead. Wearing the guppy suit. And about a half mile away, the inflatable Zodiac.
For three days they searched the wreck site, and even though the waters had somewhat calmed with the passing of the storm, there was never a sign of Addie. Nathan couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Wouldn’t leave the station, much less his post. Hope fled, turning into a clawing, painful desperation to get Addie back. It left a hole in his gut.
“You did everything you could, Nathan,” Lt. Commander Jales said. The Jayhawk’s pilot put his hand on Nathan’s shoulder and squeezed. “You did, son. That was...a helluva storm, I’m afraid. I’m sorry.”
The words reverberated in Nathan’s head, bounced off his skull and fell flat. The sea had swallowed her up. Over and over in his head, he saw her standing there, waving at him. He’d never see her again. Pain tore at his insides. He’d not done everything. He’d had eyes on Addie. Had told her to jump. He’d been right there.
It’d not been enough.
He’d not been enough.
Cassabaw Station
Carolina barrier island
Late June
Present day
THE ALARM’S SCREECH broke through the room and Nathan’s sleep, and he pushed off his stomach to sit on the edge of the bed. He tapped the alarm off and pushed his fingers through his hair.
Four a.m., and it was opening day of shrimping season. They were going to get an extra-early start.
Running through his morning ritual, Nathan put on a T-shirt and shorts, then pulled his hair back. Quickly washing his face and brushing his teeth, he then jogged downstairs, the smell of bacon and coffee wafting up the stairwell.
“’Bout damn time you dragged yourself out of bed,” his grandpa, Jep, grumbled from the stove. “You goin’ for a haircut later?”
Nathan’s dad, Owen, was sitting at the table, and he threw his son a grin.
“Jep, enough about the hair,” Nathan said, pouring coffee into an insulated thermos. “It’s getting old.”
“Well, I’m old, dammit, and I’m tired of lookin’ at my eldest grandson with long, girlie hair.” He swore under his breath. “Ponytail and such. Like a pirate or some such