Beached_A Mer Cavallo Mystery

by Micki Browning

  "A true apology is complicated," Mer said. "Some people will say they're sorry when they're not. They just want the conflict to go away. But an apology has to be genuine. It has to make things better."

  "You can't make restitution for hurt feelings," he said.

  "The last step is to ask for forgiveness."

  "I've done that. I've done all of that."

  "You've done most of it. But I haven't." She curled her legs beneath her. There was more. Drawing a breath, she dove in. "Selkie, when you came back into my life, I wasn't confident enough to be honest with you about how badly I'd been hurt before and I'm sorry. It was wrong for me not to express my concerns and fears." Her words were stilted, but she had to get the feelings out. She had to make him understand.

  He moved toward her and she held up her hand. "I'll try not to do the same thing in the future, but quite frankly, I don't have the skills to do this cold turkey, and I know I'll backslide. Confrontation is difficult for me. At some point, I'll probably screw up again—but I'll do my best not to." She drew a big breath and blew it out. "Will you please forgive me?"

  "No."

  Her throat constricted and she unfolded her legs. Even though she'd prepared herself for this reaction, it still hurt. "I understand." There was no reason to continue with the rest.

  "I don't think you do," he said. He scratched the stubble on his jaw. "This has been a difficult week. Without you."

  "It's been hard on me, too." She missed sharing the events of their days. Missed hearing him hum while he shaved. Missed the way he brushed his fingers over her forearm right before he reached for her hand.

  "You were the one who asked for it," he reminded her.

  "Is that enough reason not to forgive me?"

  "It's been my lot in life to fall in love with strong, independent women." He stared beyond her, lost in the darkness. "It's easier to pretend I can't forgive you than it is to acknowledge that I can't protect you."

  She tucked her hands under her arms. "That's about the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

  "I've dedicated my life to protecting all I hold dear. My family, my country, and my men. You. I've failed at every turn."

  "How can you say that?"

  "No one aces SEAL training. But I did well enough to get noticed. My sister had dubbed me Selkie when we were kids. The whole Irish thing. But that, combined with my new job made me think the whole thing was ordained." He laughed mirthlessly. "Hubris."

  "You can't protect everyone."

  "The summer we first met, I was broken. My body. My confidence." His fingers brushed her scar. "I know what you're going through."

  She held her breath, not wanting to say the wrong thing. The helicopter crash had affected him—she'd known that—but not how much. He still talked about it with such pain.

  "What you don't know is that I lost two men on that mission. I had to prove to the Navy that I was worth keeping. But I had to convince myself first. Your brother talked about you all the time. I felt like I knew you before he'd even introduced us. But I wasn't prepared for you. Turns out you're capable of scaring people, too. Or at least me."

  She bit back the obvious question. It no longer matter why he had left her, then.

  "My bones mended. I healed. The Navy sent me to school. I've spent a career trying to make up for letting them down. Letting my men down. Their families."

  "Did you pull the trigger on either man?"

  He reared back. "What? No!"

  "No." She sought his hand. "Then you're blaming yourself for something you didn't do."

  "That's the point. I didn't protect them." He cupped her face in his hand and tucked a wild curl behind her ear. "That brings us to you."

  "You've never failed me." But even as she said it, she knew it wasn't true.

  "Did you know that Josh taught me how to scuba dive?"

  The abrupt change in the conversation yanked her back to the summer they'd fallen in love. They'd spoken of diving together. He was already certified. She wasn't. "That means you've known Detective Talbot longer than you've known me."

  "He was working on a dive boat in Key West. A snot-nosed twenty-one-year-old, barely old enough to drink. I was twenty-three and an Annapolis grad. Cocky as all hell and about to enter SEAL training. I figured knowing how to dive before they threw me in the water would be a good thing. Josh and I hit it off right away."

  "Why are you telling me this?"

  "He's a good man." Selkie smiled. It nearly reached his eyes. "The champagne's getting warm. Let me grab some glasses." He disappeared into the house.

  Last night's moon was full. Tonight its tarnished glow waned, but the illumination threw her world into stark perspective.

  By the time he returned, she'd opened the bottle. She felt a sad elation. Being alone was better than being with the wrong person, but it still meant being alone.

  He stared at the cork and then lifted it and tenderly folded it into her hand.

  She started to cry.

  "I love you, Meredith Elena Cavallo."

  She cried harder. She'd never meant to cause him more pain. They'd both suffered enough. "I'm so sorry."

  "There should be four other parts, you know." He squeezed her hand briefly, and let go.

  Her chin trembled. "I know."

  "Promise me you'll be careful."

  She could only nod.

  39

  Mer woke an hour before her alarm. Her first look in the mirror nearly sent her back to bed, and no amount of cold water remedied her puffy face, red eyes, or wild hair. Instead she called her mother.

  Her parents wouldn't be home from their two-week cruise until tonight, and the call went straight to voicemail. It didn't matter. Mer wanted to hear her mother's voice.

  The beep caught her off-guard. She sputtered a message and closed with, "Love you both. Give Pops a hug. Talk to you soon. I'm going for a run." Which was a phrase she'd never uttered in her life.

  A run.

  Once the initial shock wore off, it didn't seem like such a horrible idea—a painful one but not horrible. Running had health benefits. It couldn't possibly make her look any worse, and she already felt crappy. Perfect.

  She dug her shoes out of the back of the closet.

  The streetlights glowed, but Key Largo still slept. She took a few tentative steps, her footfalls overly loud in the quiet. No lightning sparked from the sky to smite her, so she quickened her pace. It didn't take long before each breath sounded like a consumptive chest rattle.

  A Chihuahua barked at her from behind the wrought-iron gate of a multi-million dollar home. On the left side of the street, boats lined the canal, parallel parked along the dock allotted to every property. She eyed each boat she passed, wondering how it would be to live on it. Most offered accommodations larger than her apartment and cost in the high six figures—about four figures out of her price range.

  She huffed to the end of the road and punched the security code onto the pad. The ornate wrought iron gate opened and she set off again before fully regaining her breath.

  Ocean Cay had never struck her as a long street, but it seemed an eternity before she saw the passing cars that marked the Overseas Highway. She cut south through a hotel lot and jogged past a row of wooden kiosks used by dive, fishing, and tour companies. She descended the stairs to the narrow canal dock.

  A crimp in her side slowed her pace as she drew abreast the African Queen. Its new life as a tour boat for movie buffs made it one of Key Largo's biggest attractions.

  Another few hundred yards and she'd be at the dive shop—sweaty, nearly two hours early, and unprepared to face the day. Not that she'd planned on staying. She was only halfway through her run.

  Her lips twitched. She was actually running.

  A fish jumped in the canal, startling her out of her reverie, and she stutter-stepped into a puddle.

  Maybe running was a bit of an overstatement. Really, it was more of a fast shuffle. Still, breaking into a sweat counted for something a
nd she hadn't thought of Selkie in at least fifteen minutes.

  The dock connected restaurants, tiki bars, and hotels along the water. She zigzagged around a small boat launch and onto the dock owned by Bijoux. At the picnic tables, she stopped and leaned over, her hands on her knees. Tears and sweat dripped onto her legs. When had she started crying again?

  "I didn't know you were a runner."

  Talbot's voice came from the top of the stairs. Mer wiped her eyes before straightening.

  He cleared the last three steps with one stride. "Are you okay?"

  A squadron of pelicans skimmed the water of the canal in a silent V formation.

  She tried to smile. "I'm just overjoyed someone called me a runner."

  "Is this about today?" he asked. "You don't have to do this."

  She leaned against the wooden table and stretched her calves. "I thought we already had this conversation. Not contemplating going without me, are you?"

  He sat on the bench. "That crossed my mind, but no. It all hinges on you."

  "Then why are you here so early?"

  "You were right. There's a tracker on each boat. I wanted to make sure no one tampered with anything before we went out today."

  "You've been here all night?" she asked, but his wrinkled clothes confirmed her suspicion.

  "Too much at stake. We've only got one shot."

  "With luck, that's all we'll need."

  "Doubting your plan, Dr. Cavallo?"

  "Scientists always build in a margin for error, but it won't be necessary this time."

  "Thou art wedded to calamity."

  "Not today." Her legs were starting to cramp, and the lightening sky reminded her she had to run home and get cleaned up before reporting for work. She pushed away from the table.

  "I stowed a satellite phone in the V-berth," Talbot said. "That way if we need to, we can talk without being overheard." Talbot stood. "Promise me you'll be careful today."

  His request reminded her of last night's conversation with Selkie. She knew it was time to leave before she began crying again. "Nothing but."

  She sprinted until she knew she was out of sight and then slowed. She had to push Selkie out of her mind. He wasn't going to be of help today, and other people were putting themselves at risk. She owed it to them to be focused.

  By the time she'd arrived home, showered, and driven back to the shop, it had turned into a Chamber of Commerce morning. Picture perfect. Her mother would say it was a good omen. Mer took it as a proof the Keys had beautiful weather.

  Bijoux retrieved the coin from the safe and handed it to Mer. "Are you sure you want to take this out on the ocean?"

  "No. But on the off chance I have to produce it, I want to be prepared."

  "If all goes as planned, you won't have to." Bijoux hugged her. "Bonne chance."

  Mer closed her hand around the coin and went downstairs.

  Talbot wasn't on the dock and Leroy had his head buried in the engine compartment of the Finders Keepers.

  Mer addressed the captain's backside. "Today's the day."

  Leroy capped the oil container and wiped his hands on a rag. "You got your mind made up, I see."

  "We're almost done." The thought thrilled her.

  Leroy's cellphone rang, but he ignored it. "Seems to me, you've done your share."

  "All the more reason to see it through."

  His straw bounced accusingly. "I swear, if I threw you in the ocean, you'd float upcurrent just to spite me."

  Mer managed a smile. "Not on purpose."

  A rust-bucket of a Buick careened into the parking lot. A second later, Skipper Biggs bore down on the two of them. "What's this I hear about contacting Winslet Chase?"

  "How did you learn about that?" Mer asked.

  Skipper dismissed her and looked to Leroy for an answer.

  "That's the plan," Leroy said.

  "It's the only way I know of to show him this." Mer's hand disappeared into her pocket and came out holding the portrait dollar.

  Skipper worked his mouth as if he were shifting dentures. "Is that what I think it is?"

  "Cost you a shot to find out," Mer said, even as she handed him the coin.

  Skipper stared at the portrait dollar in the middle of his palm. "I'll be damned."

  "Don't suppose there's ever been much doubt about that," Leroy said.

  "Where'd ya find it?"

  "Last spot we were at yesterday." She drew Skipper aside and briefed him about yesterday's events. "And so, yes, I'm going to have a little chat with Winslet."

  "I see. And you figured you'd set up the Finders Keepers to make it all look good."

  "We don't want them to be suspicious. If it looks as if we just found the wreck, it ought to be enough to lure him in."

  "Oh, he'll take the bait, all right," Skipper said. "The man can't resist making the most of someone else's work."

  "As soon as we see them on the horizon, we'll alert the Sheriff's Office. They'll be staged a minute away."

  "Chase isn't going to come alone."

  "That's the sheriff's problem."

  "And whose problem do you think it'll be before they get there?"

  "Leroy's and mine."

  "Well now, that's your first mistake."

  "Excuse me?"

  "It's my boat."

  A tickle of foreboding made Mer anticipate his next words.

  "And your plan ain't worth beans if you ain't got my boat." Skipper crossed his arms. "And you ain't got my boat 'less I'm the captain."

  "But—" Mer began.

  "Choice is yours."

  Mer and Leroy exchanged looks and then Leroy handed Skipper the rag. "Guess I'll mate."

  "Do you even know how?" Mer asked.

  "I'll watch while you demonstrate."

  Bijoux hurried toward the trio. "Leroy, I need to speak with you. It's about your wife."

  He paled. "Is Maggie okay?"

  Bijoux glanced at the others.

  "We're all friends here," Leroy said.

  "A dispatcher from the Sheriff's Office tried your cell. Maggie was in an automobile collision and they're transporting her to the emergency room. He said a deputy will meet you there." Bijoux barely paused for a breath. "Do you want me to drive?"

  "No." He shook his head as if dazed. "Did they say anything else?"

  Concern softened Bijoux's voice. "She's a strong woman. Go."

  He gave a curt nod. "Mer, walk with me."

  Without waiting, he headed toward the parking lot.

  Mer fell in step beside him. "I'm sorry, Leroy. I hope she's okay."

  They were almost to the truck before he spoke. "You best watch yourself, today. I'm not going to be out there with you."

  "No, but Skipper will be."

  He dug in his pocket for the truck keys. "He's got more sense than he lets on. If he tells you to do something, don't think twice. Today isn't a day for scholars. It's for scrappers."

  She gave him a quick hug. "That's for Maggie."

  40

  Conch Wall, Conch Reef and Little Conch Reef offered divers three very different dive sites, despite the similarity of their names and their proximity. Experienced divers chose the northernmost site, where Conch Wall's vertical reef met the sand at ninety feet. In the middle, Conch Reef allowed divers to explore Gorgonians and barrel sponges, and it was the closest most people ever came to the restricted area around the Aquarius Reef Lab. The southernmost site, Little Conch Reef, sheltered the remains of El Infante and was shallow enough to snorkel.

  Skipper motored northwest of Conch Reef and threw an anchor in fifteen feet of water. The site had the advantage of being close enough to where they had been searching to forestall suspicion, while being far enough from the Thirteenth Galleon to protect the discovery.

  "Don't see why you need to splash," Skipper said.

  Mer yanked the zipper of her wetsuit closed. "They seem to know our very thoughts. I don't want to do anything to deviate from the other days."

 
"Without the professor, seems to me we already have."

  "All the more reason to make the rest of this look normal." She ignored Skipper's surface-supplied rigs in favor of her own equipment and donned her gear. "I hate leaving you alone, though."

  "No need to worry about me. I ain't the one with a coin in my boot."

  No. That dubious distinction belonged to her. And the coin would remain there until she saw Oscar. She indicated the metal detector on the deck. "Maybe I'll find us something else."

  "Girlie, if you find more treasure, I just might propose."

  "Considering the magnitude of the question, it will cost you more than a shot."

  He tore the top off a fresh package of sunflower seeds. "Marriages always do."

  The Finders Keepers had a narrow swim step and an open-rung swim ladder off the stern, but most of the real estate was occupied by two industrial-sized blowers, which unmistakably identified the vessel as a salvage boat.

  Mer sat on the transom and swung her legs around until she was facing the ocean. Without Phoenix, she would dive alone. She lowered her mask, tested her regulator, and made a giant stride into the ocean.

  Skipper handed her the metal detector. "Happy hunting, Missus Biggs."

  Clapping the headphones around her ears, she descended.

  No eels. No stingrays. Nothing broke the monotony of the sand. She halfheartedly swung the metal detector, but not even trash registered on the console. The current had picked up and in the shallow water, the surge pushed and pulled at her body. She sculled her fins slightly to stay in place.

  The concept of time had always fascinated Mer. Like a state of matter, it could act as solid, liquid, or gas. Time was as fluid as the ocean, fleeting in moments of joy, tedious when burdened by anticipation—and at the moment downright inert.

  She checked her gauges for the third time. Twenty minutes. Not nearly long enough to qualify as a typical dive. She started to hum ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall. At fifty-two, she quit and ascended.

  "Shaving it a bit close, ain't ya?" Skipper took the metal detector from her outstretched arm.