“But was the anchor there,” she went on, “and I just didn’t see it in the increasing turbulence and lessening visibility? Is it still there? And if so, was the anchor chain hauled up properly or shoved off in a hurry? We paid good money for that new anchor and chain, because we’ve had them pull loose, and twice our rope was cut on something. If Daria didn’t leave under duress, she would have hauled it in.”
“What you thinking?” Manny demanded. “That more than a storm made her leave you there?”
“Of course it was more than a storm that made her leave me there!” Bree exploded. “That was bad, but it wasn’t a hurricane! Sorry,” she added more quietly, covering her eyes with one hand. “I’m just on edge, and I know you’ve been, too, Manny, trying to handle your mother’s illness, Lucinda’s attitude and everything.”
As she lowered her hand and looked at him, he shook his head. “Lucinda’s craziness nada compared to this,” he said. “Anyhow I can help, I help.”
“Good,” she said. “I’d like you to go down to our slip at the marina and make sure Mermaid I is ready to go and that scuba tanks are filled—for two divers, if Cole will come along. It still stays light pretty late. At least the storms missed us today, so maybe the underwater visibility will be better.”
“You’re going diving now?” Cole demanded. “Look, Briana, I’m sure you know a lot of local divers who could search for—”
“I need to do it! I know the area. Besides, if I could just retrieve my camera, it could have something on it. I had to let it go in the storm.”
“You got photos of something strange?” Manny asked. He clenched both fists. Even with his brown skin, Bree could tell he was flushing. His voice rose as he got up from the couch and took a step toward the door. “You really thinking someone did something dirty?”
“I don’t want to think that, but I know she wouldn’t just leave, storm or not, toothache or not. I know Daria as well as I know myself!”
Manny bent to swig the rest of his soda and went out. She could hear him thudding down the stairs, muttering to himself.
“Briana—”
“You can call me Bree if you want.”
“The thing is,” Cole went on, “even if the doctor cleared you to leave the hospital, that hardly meant you could go diving right away.”
“He didn’t clear me,” she blurted. “I cleared myself and cleared out. I have to do this!”
She jumped up, making Daria’s chair rock back and forth on its own as if a ghost sat there. With a shiver snaking up her spine, she moved to the French doors, which had a view of the bay. The sight of the sunlit marina and the gulf beyond almost blinded her. Pushing the double doors open, she stepped out onto the veranda where they kept a wrought-iron table and two chairs. She grabbed sunglasses Daria had left there and shoved them on to mute the slant of late-afternoon sun. Not only had her heightened perception of light not worn off, but she was certain that, beyond the normal bustle of the marina, she could hear the seductive sounds of the sea.
Bree decided she’d need to start wearing earplugs, not when she dove, but when she was on terra firma. She’d often had to wear them to sleep. Unlike Daria, she couldn’t fall asleep anywhere. On their overnight flight to Greece for their college-graduation gift, Daria had conked out right away and arrived raring to go, while Bree had wasted an entire night’s sleep just being annoyed that Daria was lost in sweet dreams. Daria…lost…in dreams that were really nightmares…
“Bree,” Cole said, following her out and putting his big hands gently on her shoulders from behind, “under ordinary circumstances, I’d tell you you’re nuts. You’ve got a lot of professional people looking for her. Besides, the police have a dive team—though, I suppose, they won’t deploy it until they’re convinced of foul play, even if we ask…” His deep voice trailed off.
She turned to face him and found herself staring at the beating pulse in his strong, bronzed throat. He was half a head taller than she, but his broad shoulders made him seem larger than that. His eyes were a rich mahogany hue, framed by long, thick lashes. She could see her reflection there, could almost drown in their depths.
For one crazed instant, she longed to throw herself into his arms and just hold tight, to beg him to take this burden from her, comfort her, let her hide in his strength. But she did none of those things. Tackle a problem head-on, Dad would have said. It was the way she was and Daria, too. But had Daria, out on that boat in those rough waves, tried to take on something—or someone—she could not handle?
“Cole, I know that area and the currents like the back of my hand. I have to do this or I’ll never forgive myself. I’m certain I would feel something if she weren’t…weren’t alive. But I do sense she’s in danger. Call it women’s intuition or a sister’s sixth sense. I just have to go check the dive site.”
“Then I’ll go with you—on one condition. If you begin to feel ill down there or I see anything I don’t like, that’s it, we’re out. And we’re not going to do any kind of wide sweep for the camera if it’s not near the dive site. Promise me,” he said, gripping her upper arms, “because I mean it. I’ll pull you right out of there—again.”
“Yes, all right, I promise. I owe you doubly. I really think God sent you to find me, and to help find Daria.”
“Then I just pray I’m up to pleasing all three of you,” he said and surprised her with a hard hug before he let her go.
While Manny was preparing the skiff and putting air in their tanks and Cole drove to his workshop where he kept his own diving gear, Bree made four quick calls. She phoned the hospital main desk to officially check herself out. They were very upset and said they’d inform Dr. Hawkins immediately, but she hung up before they could page him. Bree knew Amelia would try to stop her from diving, so she called her at home and got her answering machine. That was what she’d hoped for, since Amelia should be picking up Jordan and James from their private elementary school about now. She left her a message that she was feeling much stronger and had decided to come home.
She then phoned the coast guard emergency contact number and, after no news there, the civil air patrol information line. She was disappointed and dismayed to learn her pilot friend, Dave Mangold, was out of town and had not participated in the air search. There was no sign of Daria or their boat, but both organizations would keep her informed.
Informed. She was terrified to get a call from either of them.
Realizing she’d left her mermaid diving suit at the hospital, she donned an old pink spandex wet suit and hurried downstairs. Though she didn’t intend to tell Cole, she felt strange, kind of floaty, but she had to do this and now. Surely, this almost out-of-body feeling was not related to Daria’s fate.
Dad had told them once that, even though he was outside in the waiting room when their mother died in the delivery room, he knew the exact moment when she’d gone because he felt kind of like he’d taken off from the ground. It was so bizarre, he’d said, like the feeling when you ride a roller coaster and go over the highest drop. There was no thrill, only an awed sense of doom. But Bree didn’t want to remember all that, didn’t want to think of that.
As she went to check her desk phone for messages, she heard heavy footsteps and turned to see if Manny or Cole were back. Big, burly Sam Travers, who ran the rival business across the bay, stood in the doorway, not in, not out. He seemed to block out the light and air.
With a bulky build and a face and body hardened by years of physical labor, Sam stood slightly over six feet tall. His hair had been gray for years, and he wore it cut tight to his head, which emphasized his prominent ears and narrowed eyes. Crow’s feet perched at the corners, matching his deep frown lines. Sam had never given in to wearing sunglasses or caps.
Bree recalled from years ago when she and Ted used to hang out together all the time, that his