And she knew even less about the man sitting beside her.
Worried now, though for no good reason, she side-slipped the plane to lose altitude and radioed her approach to the Lobster Island tower. The response was slow in coming, and informal, but the parallel row of lights sparkled in the near distance, outlining a runway that was much longer than the blasted dirt strips she was used to.
“Almost there,” she murmured, more to herself than Dale.
“Great.” He bit off a curse and she felt another flash of annoyance.
“If you’re going to snarl at me every time I open my mouth, this is going to be a very long investigation, Metcalf.”
“This from the woman who’s called me a ‘slimy toad’ whenever she’s seen me for the past three months?” His knuckles whitened. “You wanted happily ever after. I wanted to be friends. The two don’t mix, Tansy.”
It still hurt that their breakup hadn’t crushed him like it had crushed her. Then again, that was part of the problem. “Never mind,” she snapped. “Forget I was about to suggest a truce. Let’s just keep biting each other’s heads off and hope the patients don’t notice.”
The little plane dropped down through the last fifty feet of air and the rocky bulk of the island flashed beneath them. Their airspeed bled from a hundred miles per hour to eighty, then slower.
Dale sighed heavily and reached out a hand as though to touch her, but he didn’t. “Tansy, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to fight with you. But this is…awkward for me.”
The first of the runway lights glinted below the plane and Tansy brought it down expertly, letting the wheels kiss the smooth, shadowed tarmac. “It’s awkward because of me. Because of us.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Or at least, not entirely. It’s the island. You see, I was born—”
Crack! A horrendous jolt yanked the control yoke from Tansy’s fingers. Her body slammed against the shoulder harness and the plane bottomed out, hard, on the runway.
“Christ!” Dale yelled, grabbing for a handhold. “Hang on!”
No time. There was no time for hanging on. Sparks flashed by the windows, brighter than the sunset. Metal screamed.
“Dale! The landing gear’s collapsed!” Fear grabbed Tansy by the throat. Control. She was out of control.
The little plane slid sideways down the runway at almost fifty miles per hour. Metal ground against asphalt, and sparks spewed higher against the dusky sky. She fought the useless yoke for a few seconds before letting it go. She glanced out the cockpit window. There weren’t any buildings to hit at the end of the runway, thank God.
Then her stomach dropped. “The runway ends!” she shrieked. “Dale! The ocean!”
“Hang on, baby. Hang on!” Somehow, their hands twined together. Their eyes caught and held as the plane slid over the end of the runway and tilted down.
Metal howled. The plane slammed against something. It twisted and fell, bounced, and continued to fall until they hit bottom, hard.
Tansy’s head smacked into the side window.
First, she saw watery stars.
Then she saw nothing.
Chapter Two
The endless moment of freefall was sickening. Dale’s stomach lodged in his throat, then dropped when they hit bottom and Tansy’s head cracked into the side window. She sagged against her safety belt.
“Tansy! Tansy, stay with me. I need you to stay with me!” The words were rote, the feeling beneath them anything but. Panic roared in Dale’s ears. Then he realized it wasn’t just panic.
It was the sound of waves breaking on the plane. They’d fallen into the bay. And Tansy was unconscious.
“Damn!” He yanked free of his belt and struggled to his feet, hunching down in the small cockpit space. The cold, salty water of Lobster Bay splashed around his ankles. God, he hated the ocean.
The floor tilted by degrees as the weight of the engine pulled the front of the plane down. Heart pounding, hands shaking, he glanced out the forward window. In the crimson of twilight, he could see wavelets and greasy, gray water edging up the nose of the plane.
How long until the tower sent help? How long would the little plane float?
Working quickly, he checked Tansy’s vitals. “Tansy! Tansy, sweetheart, wake up. We need to get out of here, baby.” The endearments slipped out, though he’d rarely used them when they had been a couple. At least not out loud.
How deep was the water just past the landing strip? He didn’t remember. He hoped it was shallow. Lobster Bay was tricky that way. But even four feet of water would be too much if he couldn’t get them out of the plane before it flooded.
Tansy stirred, and relief rattled through him. He could get her out. He had to get her out.
“Flotation,” he muttered, knowing that HFH stocked their planes with life jackets as well as the standard cushions. He bypassed the field equipment crammed in the back and yanked the jackets from their compartment. His hands were still shaking. What was wrong with him?
“You’ve worked outbreaks in Tehru and terrorist bombings in the Middle East,” he reprimanded himself. “Two people in a sinking plane should be a piece of cake.” He stilled his hands by force of will, but he couldn’t stop the lurch of his heart when he returned to Tansy’s side and she opened her eyes.
The knowledge hit him like a fist to the gut. This wasn’t a stranger in Tehru or the Middle East. This was Tansy.
And that made all the difference.
“Dale? What—?” Pain and sudden comprehension clouded her eyes. “We crashed. The landing gear broke.” She turned her head towards the storage space and winced. “We’ve got to grab the field kits and get out of here.”
“Put this on first,” he ordered, helping her into the jacket over her protests. “We’re in the water and I don’t know how long we’ll float. Forget about the equipment.”
“The hell I will. We have an outbreak to work.” Listing to one side as the plane sagged beneath her, Tansy stumbled to the cargo area. She fumbled with the straps securing their instruments. “The cases are shockproof and rigged to float. We’ll get as many as we can out the door before we jump.”
The floor tilted even further and water surged up to cover most of the cockpit window, blocking out the bloody light of dusk. Dale cursed under his breath. “There’s no time for the equipment, Tansy! Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“We’ve got time. Help me with this,” she demanded.
He clenched his teeth. Stubborn. She’d always been stubborn, and more concerned with the patients’ safety than her own. At times it scared him and drove him crazy. Other times it made him proud.
This was one of those crazy times.
“We’re getting out. Now.” In the near-blackness, he looped an arm around her waist and dragged her to the door, grimacing when the floor tilted beneath his feet and metal groaned sickeningly.
The plane was rolling in the water.
“Get the door!” she yelled, finally ready to abandon the equipment. “We’re going down!”
“Hurry!” Dale yanked his jacket over his head and tried to help her crank the door release. In a flash, he imagined sinking to the bottom of the ocean with Tansy, trapped in the half-open cockpit. Drowned. Like his parents. “No!” he shouted, and jammed his shoulder against the door.
It cracked open, followed by a gush of water.
“Dale!”