Submerged

by Dani Pettrey

  “Got that covered.”

  Her brows pinched together. “How?”

  He sank against the desk. “Don’t know why I didn’t think of this before, but Agnes probably flew to Anchorage on Henry’s plane too—and it was a family-run operation.”

  Hope filled her eyes. “And you know the family?”

  “Beauty of a small town. I’ll give Ginny a call.”

  29

  “Come on, Piper, just pick something,” Gage grumbled as Sandy waited to take their order.

  Gus’s diner was still bustling with the lingering dinner crowd. Kids with ice-cream moustaches and syrupy smiles rustled in their seats as their parents chatted and picked at what remained of their oversized desserts.

  Piper’s eyes darted over the menu she’d read a thousand times. “I can’t decide between the meatloaf and a cheeseburger. Both sound good.”

  “How about I get the meatloaf, you get the cheeseburger, and we share?” Cole suggested.

  Piper smiled. “That sounds perfect.”

  “Finally,” Kayden huffed. “I was getting tired of listening to Gage’s stomach growl.”

  “I can’t help it if I’m hungry.”

  Kayden rolled her eyes. “You’re always hungry.”

  “So . . .” Piper popped a straw in her soda. “How is the case going?”

  Cole had wondered how long it would take her to ask. “Slower than any of us like, but Bailey and I may have found a lead.”

  Piper’s brows shot up in anticipation. “Really?”

  “Settle down, Nancy Drew.” Gage squeezed her shoulder. “He said may have.”

  “Ignore the pessimists.” Piper leaned forward. “Tell me about this lead.”

  Cole lowered his voice. “Well, Bailey and I are going to talk to Ginny Reid tomorrow about—”

  Gage cleared his throat. “Speaking of Bailey . . .”

  Cole turned to find her standing at the front counter. Her hair in a loose ponytail, she wore a long-sleeve T-shirt and a pair of knit capris. She shifted from foot to foot, clearly anxious to be on her way.

  “I’ll be right back.” He slid out of his family’s booth and headed for the counter. “Bailey.”

  She turned at his voice and a soft smile crossed her lips.

  “Why don’t you come join us?” He gestured toward his family.

  She looked across the crowded restaurant and waved to Piper, who was watching them with clear interest. “Thanks, but I’ve got a lot of work to do.” She slipped a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I just came in for a milkshake.”

  “Got a hankering for them?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled. “You got me hooked.”

  “Here’s your shake, hon.” Sandy slid it across the counter.

  “Thanks.” Bailey grabbed it. “Well, I better . . .”

  “Why don’t you at least sit and enjoy your shake with us.”

  She looked back to his family, and he followed her gaze. Piper smiled sweetly, her eyes still fastened on them.

  “I’ve really got a ton of work.” She shifted around him, and he could feel her slipping through his fingers all over again. “But thanks for the offer.”

  “Yep.” He waved as the door shut behind her.

  “Terrible news about her aunt,” Sandy said behind him. “About the plane crash not being an accident.”

  He turned with a start. How on earth did she know about that? “Where did you hear that?”

  She leaned in and lowered her voice. “You know I’m not one to snitch, but what I will say is that we’re all shook up about it. First that dead diver and now this. Stuff like that happens in the big cities, not in Yancey.”

  “Sandy, order’s up,” Gus called from the kitchen.

  “I better go.” Sandy slipped her order pad back in her pocket. “Gus doesn’t like us talking about this. Says it’s police business. But when there’s a murderer on the loose, I say it’s the entire town’s business.”

  Cole followed Gage out of Gus’s diner.

  “Want to grab a cup of coffee?” Gage asked.

  Cole looked at the light on in Bailey’s place. He toyed with the idea of stopping by. . . .

  “Cole?”

  “Yeah.” He shook off the idea. She clearly wanted her space. “Sure. I could go for a cup.”

  “Polar Espresso or Grizzly Bean?”

  “The Bean sounds good.” They headed away from the Post toward the coffee shop.

  “So . . .” Gage rubbed the back of his neck. “I saw the way you looked at Bailey.”

  Cole exhaled. He hadn’t seen that coming. “And how was that?”

  “Like you’re falling for her all over again.”

  He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “I know it can’t go anywhere.”

  “Do you?” Gage held him in an appraising gaze.

  “Yes.” He’d have to be a fool not to. As soon as the case was solved, she was gone. She’d made that painfully clear.

  “Look,” Gage said, holding the coffee shop door open for him. “I just don’t want to see you go down that road again. I remember the devastation.”

  “That was a long time ago.” He approached the counter.

  Gage halted him with a hand on his shoulder. “That may be, but it still stings, doesn’t it?”

  Cole swallowed. Seeing Bailey again had resurrected a flood of memories—both the good and the excruciating. She was the only woman who’d ever broken his heart, and from the looks of things, he was about to let it happen all over again.

  Cole left his cabin in the distance, let the moon light his path. He quickened his stride, the sand shifting beneath his feet, tiny granules slipping between his toes. He just needed to move, to release everything pent up inside of him. Waves slapped rhythmically against the shore, sloshing water on his sweats. His heart thudded in his chest and sweat broke on his brow. Faster. Leave it all behind.

  Bailey. His feelings. There was no future there. He wouldn’t allow his heart to be at the mercy of her whims ever again. He increased his pace, his breath coming in short spurts. Pound it all out on the sand and let the waves wash away any trace.

  “Carrie.” Bailey’s heart filled with joy at finally reaching her.

  “I was wondering when we’d finally catch each other. You’ve been busy.”

  Bailey sank on the couch, twirling the phone cord around her finger. “I suppose so.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You said you’re extending your stay another week.”

  “Oh, right.” She supposed the message had been rather vague.

  “So . . .”

  Bailey explained the situation.

  “That’s terrible.”

  “I know. It seems so unreal.”

  “Poor Agnes.”

  “Poor all of them.” It was enough to break her heart.

  “And . . . Cole?”

  She sat up. “What about him?”

  “I’m assuming this is the Cole?”

  “What do you mean the Cole?” She knew exactly what Carrie meant.

  “As in the guy in the photograph you keep buried in your dresser, which you nearly ripped out of my hand.”

  “I didn’t rip it out of your hand. I was just startled to see you holding it—that’s all.”

  “You said I could borrow a scarf.”

  “We both know the box you found the picture in was entirely too small to hold a scarf.”

  “Okay,” Carrie sighed. “I’m sorry. My curiosity got the better of me.”

  A smile tugged at Bailey’s lips. Carrie’s curiosity always got the better of her. “It’s fine.” It was over and done with.

  “So is it him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “What’s it like being around him again? Is he still to-die-for handsome?”

  “See, there you go again—curiosity raging out of control.”

  “Yo
u’re not going to leave me hanging, are you?”

  Bailey weighed her desire to actually share what she was feeling with the one person she felt she could trust against her need for self-preservation. “There’s not much to tell.”

  30

  The next morning Bailey opened the Post door before Cole could knock.

  “Hey.”

  She grabbed her keys off the hook, impatient to get going. “Shall we?” She’d spent the night tossing and turning, thoughts of Cole plaguing her. Anticipation of what answers Ginny Reid may hold dancing alongside.

  “There’s something I want to talk to you about first.”

  Her hand went slack on the door. “Oh?” Her breath hitched. Is this where he told her he could handle the case on his own? That their spending time together wasn’t such a good idea? Had the night’s rest brought him to his senses? She’d been expecting as much, even anticipating it, but that did little to lessen the pain and humiliation swelling over her.

  “Would you mind if I have someone take a look at Agnes’s computer?”

  Her brow creased. Where had that come from? “What for?”

  “Jesse is Yancey’s resident computer whiz. With a little luck he may be able to retrieve the missing e-mails. Or at the very least, tell us when they were wiped out.”

  Cole waved to Jesse and then held the car door open for Bailey.

  “He seems like a nice kid,” she said, climbing inside, her heart still a jumble of emotions. It was weighing on her—Agnes’s death, her past, everything that had happened since she’d set foot in Yancey.

  “He’s a great kid.” Cole shut her door and climbed in the driver’s side. “I think he’s finally out of danger.”

  She swallowed the sip of soda she’d been taking. “Danger?” She wiped the drops of soda from her lip. “What danger?”

  “Jesse and his stepdad don’t get along. Most people don’t with Sam. It’s not a good situation.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Thankfully, Sam hadn’t been home during their visit.

  “Unfortunately, to compound matters or as a result of what was going on at home, Jesse fell in with the wrong crowd.”

  She knew all about that, though she could hardly blame her downward spiral on the “in” crowd. She’d chosen—check that—she’d striven to be part of that crowd, to manipulate her way in. And it had only brought heartache. “Jesse’s not still mixed up with that crowd, is he?”

  Cole pulled onto the main road, leaving the dirt drive behind. “He says he’s not, and I pray that’s the truth.”

  It was hard to break free once you were entrenched in the popularity game. It was no different than any of Satan’s lies—the more you gave up, the less you gained. She’d sold her soul for fleeting affection and never realized she’d bought in to the lie. If God, in His goodness, hadn’t reached out to her . . . if He’d given up on her as she had on herself . . . She couldn’t bear to think what a mess she’d be now . . . couldn’t bear to imagine eternal separation from her Savior. Tears welled in her eyes.

  “Hey.” Cole’s fingers barely brushed her jaw. “What’s wrong?”

  She started to say “nothing,” but she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t blow him off. It was the blasted conversation with Carrie. She’d blown Carrie off, not trusting her enough, not willing to give voice to her feelings, to acknowledge how deeply she cared for Cole. Everything was compounding, reaching a threshold. If she didn’t do something, say something—anything to relieve the pressure—it would smother her.

  Jesse sounded so much like her, like she used to be. Maybe if she talked with him she could help him in some way. His story, no doubt, was different from hers, but the emptiness that gnawed at him in the dark—the anger, hurt, and rebellion that drove kids into those crowds, into that type of behavior—was eerily the same. Maybe she could tell him about the only way to truly fill that void. Maybe she could introduce him to Jesus as her college roommate had, dragging her to a dorm Bible study and turning her world right side up for the first time in her life.

  “Bay?” Cole’s voice tugged at her heart.

  “I was just thinking about Jesse. Does he know Jesus?”

  “He knows about Him, but he hasn’t accepted Him as his Savior yet. He comes to church and youth group each week. Landon and I are both trying to build a relationship with him. Letting him know there are some safe people in his life, a safe place he can go. I pray one day soon, he’ll open his heart to Jesus.”

  “It’s a difficult thing to do . . . to swallow your pride.” She knew that better than anyone, and the sin still plagued her.

  “I wrestle with that every day.”

  “Yeah, right. You hardly seem the type to struggle with pride.” He was kind, loving . . . an amazing man. Surely he didn’t struggle with the same sins she did.

  “Pride wears a lot of different masks. Some are easier to see than others.”

  Were hers that obvious?

  “To be completely honest . . .” He looked at her, then back at the road. “Pride’s probably the toughest sin for a man to overcome.”

  “How so?”

  “We’re supposed to be tough, resilient, have everything under control . . .” He tapped the wheel. “Truth is we don’t have all the answers, we make more than our share of mistakes, and . . .” He sighed. “Sometimes we encounter a problem we can’t fix, can’t control. Talk about humbling.”

  His honesty floored her.

  “Now . . .” He inclined his head playfully. “If you tell any other men I’ve exposed our secret, I’ll have to deny everything.”

  She nibbled her bottom lip. “Thanks.”

  “For what?” He gave a halfhearted chuckle. “Exposing my flaws?”

  “Yes. For exactly that.” She leaned across the seat and kissed his cheek.

  Cole’s cheek still tingled from Bailey’s kiss. What was the woman doing to him? He’d determined to be her friend and nothing more, to keep his emotions in check, to not fall for her again, and here he was falling harder than ever. Where was his self-control?

  He kicked a stone littering their path.

  How’d she get under his skin and into his heart so easily? He was a fool—wanting something he couldn’t have, loving someone who didn’t love him back.

  Please, Lord, strengthen my resolve. I feel like I’m hanging off the side of a cliff, and the harder I struggle to reach the top, the farther down I slip. I know you can’t possibly want me to let go.

  Bailey tugged his arm before they reached Ginny’s stoop. “I didn’t think about it until just now . . . I’ve been so wrapped up with Agnes that I never stopped to consider Ginny. She lost her husband in the same crash. Maybe asking her questions about it isn’t such a good idea.”

  “I wondered the same thing, but Ginny said it’d make her happy if she can be of help. Besides, she can’t wait to meet you.”

  “Me?” Bailey paled. “I thought everyone in town already knew all about me.”

  “Not everyone in town is as immature as Tom and Thoreau. They’re the minority, not the majority. Remember that. As for Ginny, she and Henry relocated here from Kodiak about a year after you left. Ginny says Agnes spoke about you all the time, and she can’t wait to meet the apple of Agnes’s eye.”

  The front door swung open. “You must be Bailey.” Ginny rushed out, wrapping her arms around Bailey. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to finally get to meet you. Agnes spoke so highly of you.”

  “I’m afraid she was more than a little biased.” Bailey stood ramrod straight in the embrace, almost uneasy with affection.

  Maybe he wasn’t the only one who made her flinch; maybe it was intimacy that unsettled her.

  Ginny chuckled. “Nonsense. I don’t believe that for a second.” She opened the storm door. “Come on in and make yourselves at home. I hear my kettle whistling.”

  Bailey sat, plastic crinkling beneath her, the covered furniture a stark reminder of her sterile childhood. Everything in its perfect place. N
othing to be touched. All an elaborate show to hide the dirt inside.

  “Oh, don’t mind that nasty cover,” Ginny called from the kitchen. “Henry and I finally had those sofas cleaned after twenty-five years and three kids. It’s amazing they look as clean as they do. Anyhoo, they arrived all plastic covered the evening Henry was due back, so I’d left them for him.” She returned from the kitchen, a tea tray in hand. “I guess I really should see to it myself.”

  “I can take care of it, if you like,” Cole offered.

  “Oh, you sweet boy.” She planted a kiss on his cheek. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that after our visit.” She set the tray on the coffee table and rested her hands on her hips. “I know it sounds like a crazy lady talking, but I almost hate to make new memories on them without Henry. Ya know?” She swiped at her eyes. “How silly am I? Thinking dog hair or a stain on the couch equals memories.”

  Bailey’s heart went out to her. They shouldn’t have come, stirring up memories best left forgotten.

  Ginny shook her head with a sigh. “Don’t mind me. The crying spells come on swift but seem to leave the same way.” She lifted the teakettle and looked at Bailey. “Tea, dear?”

  Bailey nodded, bereft of words. Sorrow was etched on every line of Ginny’s dear, round face. She longed to pull the woman into her arms and give her a comforting hug. But instinct, drilled in her from youth, overpowered the urge.

  “Piper sent over some cookies.” Cole handed Ginny the container.

  “Oh, the sweet darling. She’s been running something up here nearly every day since my Henry . . .” Ginny’s eyes welled with tears. “I’ll just go put these on a plate. They’ll go lovely with the tea.”

  Cole moved beside Bailey, the plastic scrunching beneath him. He squeezed her hand. “You’re doing fine.”

  How could he be so in tune with her emotions? Know what she needed when she hadn’t said a word. He’d always possessed that ability, and it terrified her. She swallowed. “I feel so bad for Ginny. How long were she and Henry married?”

  “About thirty-five years, I’d say.”

  “Wow. I didn’t know people stayed married that long.”