by Dani Pettrey
“Oh, please don’t hurl, lady, or we’ll have a chain reaction,” Erik said. “I just got done heaving my guts out, and I have no desire to do it again.”
“Deep breaths in and out through your mouth,” Mason said, rubbing her back.
“I’m okay,” she said after a few solid breaths. “Thanks.” She offered a soft smile, and he smiled back as she brushed away a rogue hair sticking to her forehead.
“Great.” Erik rubbed his hands together. “Now, do what you need to do so we can get this baby started?”
Figuring out who sabotaged it was far more important to Mason than getting it running. Between the storm howling outside and the darkness inside, things felt primed for danger.
FIFTY-SIX
Noah gazed up at the heavens, and a fierce green tint to the darkening sky hit a chord of instinct within him.
He’d only seen that particular shade of green once—right before a tornado had touched down about a mile from his childhood home. The outer bands had rumbled over his house like a freight train.
Pressing the gas pedal to the floorboard, he sped toward the office, hoping the team had already started storm preparations.
He hated the thought of Mason and Rissi out on the Dauntless, but by now it was too late to head in. They were trapped until the storm passed.
Wind battered the soft top of his Jeep, yanking it up as far as the straps would allow it to go, then releasing it with a puckering suction until it pulled it up again.
He wished he’d insisted Rissi and Mason return before the storm hit. From the point of view of the investigation, they’d made the right call to stay, and he’d agreed, but he didn’t like it.
Sideways rain streaked across his windshield. He flipped on his wipers, turning them on high as the rain pummeled down. Shrill pings shot off his window as golf ball–sized hail fell.
Please, Lord, get me to the office safely. Put a hedge of protection around my team and Brooke’s as they head out in this mess. Let them rescue the people in need.
“Erik!”
Mason looked up from his examination of the generator to see Jayce striding straight for Erik.
“You’re so full of it!” Jayce roared, his face contorted in angry lines. “You’re a liar.”
Erik stepped forward, only a handful of inches separating the two. “You’re calling me a liar?”
Jayce’s hands curled into fists at his side. “You bet I am.”
“You—” Whatever Erik was going to say was cut short as Jayce’s right uppercut collided with his jaw, the force jarring his head back.
Erik rebounded and swung, nailing Jayce in his right rib cage.
“Come on, guys,” Ed said, rushing forward. The other men present—Brian and Adam—rushed forward to help. Brian grabbed Erik in a bear hug from behind, while Adam grabbed the still-swinging Jayce.
“Cut it out!” Ed yelled. “What’s wrong with you two?”
“He went after Lisha,” Jayce said.
Erik laughed.
Jayce swiped his nose, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet in Adam’s grasp.
Erik smirked, “So?”
“So you—”
“Enough!” Ed hollered. “Unless you two knuckleheads want to be fired, I suggest you stop now.”
Jayce struggled against Adam’s hold. “I don’t care if I get fired. He slept with my fiancée.”
Ed’s jaw slackened, and his gaze flashed to Erik.
He chuckled. “She slept with me is more accurate.”
Jayce lunged forward “You’re gonna play that game?”
Adam scrambled to restrain him.
“What can I say?” Erik shrugged. “She was all over me.”
Jayce flung his head backward, colliding with Adam’s face. A crack resounded, and Adam let go, clutching his nose. Blood spewed through his fingers.
Jayce rushed Erik, tackling him to the ground and whaling on him.
It took a moment, but Ed finally managed to pull Jayce off a bloody Erik.
“You’re just as bad as Chase.” Jayce spit blood from his mouth, his busted lip the only sign that he’d been involved in the fight. “You hated Chase for sleeping with Charlene, but then you go and do the same thing with Lisha. You better hope you don’t end up like Chase.”
Erik’s eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”
“Meaning dead.”
FIFTY-SEVEN
Hail struck the copter, pinging off the windshield as Brooke and her team soared above the frothy sea raging below.
An SOS had come from a sightseeing vessel six miles off the North Carolina coast. Any captain foolish enough to head out with an impending storm warning in effect was beyond stupid. That the storm was moving in far swifter than anticipated was no excuse. One thing Brooke had learned in her eight years as a Coast Guard medic was you didn’t mess with Mother Nature.
Gabby maintained God still controlled the wind and the waves, but if that was so, Brooke wasn’t sure she wanted to believe in a God who allowed such destruction.
She had believed when she was a kid in Sunday school, but life had a way of slowly eroding it out of her.
“Two minutes out,” Dean, the pilot, said over the headset.
Jason and Brad, the two rescue swimmers, readied to jump. Prepared to risk their lives if necessary to save a crew that should have known better than to be out in the elements.
Brooke double-checked her equipment, ready to treat any injuries the crew or guests had sustained.
The wave-thrashed vessel came into view, a white dot in the throes of a heightening and churning sea.
“You’ve got ten minutes,” Dean said. “Any longer and the winds are going to get too fierce for this bird.”
Jason gave a thumbs-up as he perched on the copter door’s edge, his flippers dangling thirty feet above the sea below.
“Clear,” Dean hollered over the intensifying winds.
Jason jumped as the copter shook, an unnerving rattle creaking through its hollow cavity.
“Hang on,” Dean instructed as he fought the throttle to counteract the amassing wind surge.
“Jumper two. You’re a go.”
“Roger that,” Brad said before jumping into the turmoil waiting below.
Please let them be safe.
Not really expecting anyone to be listening or to answer, Brooke prayed all the same. Apparently, some childhood habits died hard.
Once the fight was over and Jayce left, Mason grabbed his flashlight off the metal shelf and bent to examine the generator. Someone had indeed cut pivotal wires. It certainly wasn’t elegant, but it was effective.
But to what purpose?
Rissi handed Mason the camera, and he stooped, taking shot after shot, hating that they were going to have to compromise evidence, but they needed the power back on.
“How soon can it be repaired?” Adam asked, entering the room with white bandage strips across his nose. No doubt he’d have two black eyes in the morning.
“It would probably only be an hour’s job, but the replacement wires have gone missing,” Joel said. “Our only chance to get power soon is to fix the back-up generator.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Mason asked.
“Someone threw a wrench in it, and it’s wedged in the gear shaft. That ain’t coming out easily.”
“Seriously?” Adam said, gently smoothing the bandage’s edge on his right cheek.
“But you’ll be able to fix it, won’t you?” Mason asked.
“I think so.” Joel exhaled. “It just depends what got damaged, but if I do get it running, there’ll only be enough power to keep the critical systems running.”
“Critical as in . . . ?” Rissi asked.
Joel wiped the sweat from his brow. “Any system considered necessary for the crew’s safety.”
“The freezers?” Mason asked.
“Not essential. This storm will pass by morning, and any supplies we need to replenish, we can.”
Mason turned
to Rissi, and the tightness in her jaw told him she had the same concern. “Chase’s body,” he said.
She nodded.
Mason grabbed her hand, and they headed for the auxiliary freezer. He kept his pace moderate, not wanting to exacerbate any of her symptoms.
“What’s the big deal?” Erik called after them. “Chase is already dead.”
Adrenaline shot through Mason’s limbs. If the poison inside of Chase dissipated, they would never be able to confirm whether or not the stingray had caused his death.
Opening the freezer door, Mason used his flashlight to look at the thermometer. Just as he feared—the temperature was rising. Pulling out his sat phone, he called Hadley and explained the situation.
“You need to move him to the medical bay. Everything you’ll need will be stored there. First thing, take a blood sample and bring it back to the freezer. Bury it in a pile of things still frozen. It should keep it cold enough until the storm passes and you can get it back to the lab.”
They rushed the stretcher through the pitch-black passageway, but the lights flickered on as Mason rolled it into the medical bay. Rissi searched the cabinets for a syringe and blood sample tube.
Mason did as Hadley instructed, taking the blood from Chase’s exposed neck, and Rissi ran it back to the freezer while he continued following Hadley’s instructions.
“Next, you want to take pictures of the wound. I assume one of you has a camera or a phone handy?”
“I do,” Mason said.
“Take photos of the wound from the outside of the suit before you open it.”
“All right.” Mason took the pictures, nodding to Rissi as she returned from the freezer.
Hadley continued. “Is the suit’s zipper in the front or back?”
“Back,” Mason said.
“Okay, you’ll need a scalpel to cut the suit to take close-up pictures of the wound.”
Rissi nodded and searched the supply cabinet. She let out a stream of breath as she slid the scalpel through Chase’s dive suit.
Footsteps echoed in the hall, and Ed rounded the doorway. “Everything okay back here?” he asked.
“Yes. We’re just performing an exterior autopsy.”
Ed’s brow furrowed. “What?”
Rissi explained the situation while Mason took the requested pictures of the wound.
“All right.” Ed tapped the doorframe, his ring clanging against the metal. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Mason turned his attention back to Hadley on the phone. “Pictures done, Hadley.”
“I’d like a swab of his mouth. In the pictures you sent upon your arrival, I noticed a white crusting there.”
“The men said he was foaming at the mouth when they hauled him onto the platform,” Rissi said.
“Interesting,” Hadley murmured.
It took a few drawers, but Rissi finally found the Q-tips and a makeshift evidence baggie.
She offered the Q-tip to Mason.
He lifted his chin. “You go for it.”
She leaned over the body as Mason separated Chase’s lips.
The fire alarm shrilled, and Rissi jerked, but she managed to get a sample in the bag.
“Are you kidding me?” Mason said.
A few seconds later, Adam stopped at the door. “Let’s go, folks.”
“We need to finish this,” Mason said.
“Fire alarm protocol has been enacted. Head to the port side of the platform above the lifeboats in case it’s necessary to abandon ship.”
“Seriously?” Mason said.
“Dead serious,” Adam replied. “Let’s go.”
Mason and Rissi followed Adam down the steps out onto the platform and moved with the crew to the port side.
Garrett and Jayce—sporting a busted lip—rushed past them, heading for the living quarters.
“What’s going on?” Mason asked. Was there really a fire?
“They need to clear the building,” Adam said. “To make sure no one is inside and determine whether there is a fire or if some knucklehead triggered the alarm.”
Mason prayed the latter, but his gut said it was the former.
FIFTY-EIGHT
Reaching the station, Noah hopped out of the Jeep and raced for the front door. Hail bounced off his hands as he covered his head.
The windows had been boarded and the building secured. He had the best team.
Logan waited for him at the front door, pushing it open as he reached it.
He ducked inside, and Logan pulled the door shut behind him.
“Thanks,” he said, flicking the rain off his hands.
“No problem,” Logan said.
“Where are we at?”
“Prepped and ready,” Logan said.
“And the team?” He glanced around at the empty desks. During storms like this, it was protocol for the team to be available at the office.
Finn was still in Cali with Gabby, introducing her to his mom. Rissi and Mason were on Dauntless, which still ate at him, but where were Emmy and Caleb?
His thought stopped short at the sight of Caleb cutting a swath across the station directly for him.
“Have you heard from Rissi and Mason?” Caleb asked, his leg twitching beneath his tight stance. “Are they okay?”
“I’m having trouble patching through, but I’m sure they are fine.” They had to be.
“Where’s Em?”
“In the ladies’ room,” Logan said, putting a storm grill in the box window. “She should be back any minute.”
“Here I am,” she said, rounding the corner.
“Thanks for getting everything stormproofed.”
“Our pleasure,” Logan said.
“How’s Brooke?” Emmy asked. “Shouldn’t you be with her or her with you?”
“She’s on watch.”
“In this storm?” Emmy asked.
“We’re talking about the Coast Guard. When everyone else heads home, we go out.”
“I’ll say a prayer for her,” Emmy said, closing her eyes straightaway and praying silently.
“Any other news I should be aware of?” he asked the group after Emmy finished praying.
“I just got done talking to Bella Armstrong,” Logan said. “Wanted to see if she’d confronted Rick and, if so, had he conned her more?”
“And?” Noah asked, his thoughts warring to be present and to be thinking of Brooke. Praying for her. As soon as he was done hearing Logan’s update, he’d take to one of the interrogation rooms and hit his knees. Praying for them all.
“She kicked him out.”
“Good for her,” Emmy said.
“Any idea where he is now?” Noah asked.
“I’m afraid not,” Logan said. “I think Emmy and I are going to have to work our magic.” He rolled his chair beside Emmy’s at her desk.
“One thing I did find,” Emmy said, “is an online article about a protest outside a chemical company. It got rowdy. Police were called in. Arrests were made.”
“Let me guess,” Caleb said. “Gwyneth was one of them?”
“Yup.” Em smiled her I’ve-got-something smile. She pulled a paper out of the printer. “Here’s a picture of Gwyneth at the protest.”
“Thanks,” Noah said, examining it and wondering what leads that information would open up. He didn’t doubt Emmy’s skills, so something had to be there, but what? His eyes scanned the other faces, and he stopped short on the man to Gwyneth’s left. “Rick Carson?”
“Yep,” Emmy said. “I found three more like it.”
“How far back?” he asked.
“At least five years.”
“So they are far more intertwined than we realized,” Logan said.
Emmy nodded.
“Caleb, keep searching for Rick and maybe you’ll find Gwyneth too.”
A half hour after the alarm sounded, Garrett and Jayce appeared, their faces covered with ash and soot.
“There was a fire?” Rissi asked.
“Yeah,�
�� Jayce said, “but it’s out now.”
“Where was it?” Mason asked.
“In the medical bay.”
“What?” The pitch of her voice rose at least an octave. “But we were in there when the alarm went off, and there was no fire.”
“It was an electrical fire, originating in the ceiling light and spreading out from there,” Garrett explained.
Rissi blinked, already knowing the answer in her gut, but praying she was wrong. “Chase’s body. Was it damaged during the fire?”
“I’m afraid so.” Jayce sighed. “His body is pretty badly burnt. Thankfully Ed and Adam joined us and helped put the fire out before it moved beyond the medical bay.”
Rissi looked at Mason. Their eyes met, and she knew he was thinking exactly the same thing as her. What were the chances of a fire starting directly over Chase’s body? At least they’d gotten the blood samples, and no one else knew. They’d keep it that way, because too much was going wrong for it all to be accidental. What was someone covering up? Was Chase’s death another incident of ecoterrorism—trying to prevent him from fixing the riser? Or maybe he’d seen something else down there.
Lucas was clearly not responsible for all that had been going on, since he’d been confined to his quarters, guarded by either Jayce or Garrett—except for during the fire, when he’d been under the watch of several crewmen, according to Jayce. Which meant either Lucas hadn’t been involved with the food poisoning or the sabotaging of the generators . . . or he had an accomplice on board.
Rissi sat across from a fidgeting Jayce.
“When did you find out about your fiancée and Erik?” she asked, hoping he, and Erik in the adjacent room with Mason, would provide helpful insight into their investigation.
At his silence, she continued. “Was it here on the rig?”
Jayce flopped back, a scowl curling on his face. “I’d rather not say.”
She narrowed her gaze, trying to apply a little pressure without him feeling threatened, though his expression was already one of defiance.
Rissi leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. “You can bet Erik’s talking in the next room with my partner. You want his to be the only voice we hear?”