The Reef

by Nora Roberts

  For that alone he wanted to break through the bars himself, to hear VanDyke’s bones snap in his hands.

  But he made himself stand, and study.

  And he saw that the dignity and appearance of power VanDyke struggled to maintain were stretched over him like thin, fragile glass. The hate was still there, Matthew realized, ripe, alive and burning in his eyes. He wondered if it was enough to keep the man alive, if he could feed on it through all the years he’d be locked away.

  He hoped it would be.

  “How does it feel,” Matthew wondered aloud, “to lose everything?”

  “Do you think this will stop me?” VanDyke’s voice was barely a whisper that slithered through the bars like a snake. “Do you think I’ll let you keep it?”

  “I came here to tell you that you don’t matter anymore.”

  “Don’t I?” His eyes flickered. “I should have killed her. I should have put a hole in her gut and let you watch her die.”

  Matthew leapt toward the bars, nearly ripped at them when the gleam of satisfaction in VanDyke’s eyes stopped him. No, not this way, Matthew told himself. Not his way. “She beat you. She’s the one who finally brought you down. You saw it, didn’t you? The fire in the water. You saw her watching you,” he continued, drawing on the scene Tate had described to him. “She was so beautiful, so terrifying caught in that wild light. And you screamed like a child in a nightmare.”

  Color that rage had washed into his cheeks had now drained, leaving them white as paper. “I saw nothing. Nothing!” His voice rose as he jerked off the cot. In his mind a blur of terrifying images swam, took shape and threatened to tear at his sanity like eager claws.

  The screams wanted to pump, wild and hot, out of his throat.

  “You saw it.” Calm settled over Matthew again. “And you’ll see it over and over again. Every time you close your eyes. How long can you live with the fear of that?”

  “I’m afraid of nothing.” Terror was an icy ball in his belly. “They won’t keep me in prison. I have position. I have money.”

  “You have nothing,” Matthew murmured, “but years to think about what you did, and what in the end you couldn’t do.”

  “I’ll get out, and I’ll find you.”

  “No.” This time, Matthew smiled, sharp and fast. “You won’t.”

  “I’ve already won.” He came close, wrapped his fingers around the bars until they were as white as his face. His breath came fast, and the eyes that burned into Matthew’s held the bright edge of madness. “Your father’s dead, your uncle’s a cripple. And you’re nothing but a second-rate scavenger.”

  “You’re the one in the cage, VanDyke. And I’m the one with the amulet.”

  “I’ll deal with you. I’ll finish the Lassiters and take what’s mine.”

  “She beat you,” Matthew repeated. “A woman started it, and a woman ended it. You had it in your hands, didn’t you? But you couldn’t keep it.”

  “I’ll get it back, James.” His lips peeled back. “And I’ll deal with you. You think you can outwit me?”

  “I’ll protect what’s mine.”

  “Always so sure of yourself. But I’ve already won, James. The amulet’s mine. It was always mine.”

  Matthew backed away from the bars. “Stay healthy, VanDyke. I want you to live a long, long time.”

  “I won.” The shrill, furious voice followed Matthew as he walked away. “I won.”

  Because he needed the sun, Matthew walked outside the station house. He scrubbed his hands over his face and hoped Tate wouldn’t be much longer giving her statement.

  The air was hot and still, and he had a deep craving for the sea—for something fresh and scented. For Tate.

  It was nearly twenty minutes later before she came out. He thought she looked exhausted, all pale skin and haunted eyes. Saying nothing, he held out a bouquet of vivid pink and blue flowers.

  “What’s this?”

  “They’re called flowers. They sell them at the florist down the street.”

  That made her smile, and when she buried her face in them, her spirits lifted. “Thanks.”

  “I thought we could both use them.” He ran a hand down her braid. “Rough morning?”

  “Well, I’ve had better. Still, the police were very sympathetic and patient. With my statement, yours, LaRue’s, the tapes, they have so many charges I’m not sure what they’ll do first.” She lifted a shoulder. It hardly mattered now. “I suppose he’ll be extradited eventually.”

  With his hand linked with hers, Matthew walked her to the rental car. “I think he’s going to spend what’s left of his life in a padded cell. I just saw him.”

  “Oh.” She waited until he’d climbed into the driver’s seat. “I wondered if you would.”

  “I wanted to see him in a cage.” Thoughtfully, Matthew put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. “I guess since I couldn’t pound his face in, I wanted to have the chance to gloat at least.”

  “And?”

  “He’s right on the edge, and I might have given him a little shove to take him closer to it.” He glanced toward her. “He tried to convince me—or maybe himself, that he’d won.”

  Tate lifted the flowers to rub the fragrant blooms over her cheek. “He hasn’t. We know that, and it’s what matters.”

  “Right before I left, he called me by my father’s name.”

  “Matthew.” Concerned, she laid a hand over his on the gear shift. “I’m sorry.”

  “No. It’s all right. It seemed just somehow. Like a closure. Almost half my life, I’ve wanted to turn the clock back to that day, do something to change what happened. I couldn’t save my father, and I couldn’t be him. But today, for a few minutes, it was like standing in for him.”

  “Justice instead of revenge,” she murmured. “It’s easier to live with.”

  As he turned the car toward the sea, she let her head fall back against the cushion. “Matthew, I remembered something when I was talking to the police. Last night, when I was on deck with VanDyke, I had my hand on the amulet and I told him I hoped it gave him the life he’d earned.”

  “Twenty or thirty years locked away from everything he wants most. Good call, Red.”

  “But who called it?” She let out a long breath. “He doesn’t have the amulet, Matthew, but he certainly has Angelique’s Curse.”

  It felt good to be back at sea again, back at work. Warding off all suggestions that she take the remainder of the day to rest, Tate closeted herself with Hayden and her cataloguing.

  “You’ve done a top-notch job here, Tate.”

  “I had a good teacher. There’s still so much to do. I have miles of film to be developed. We already have the videos, of course, and my sketches.”

  Briskly, she ran a finger down one of her lists. “We desperately need storage space,” she continued. “More holding tanks and preserving solutions. And now that we’ve made the announcement, we can start bringing up the cannon. We couldn’t risk using inflatables and cranes before.”

  She blew out a breath and sat back. “We need the equipment for handling the rest, and of course, for preserving and reconstructing what we can of the Isabella.”

  “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

  “I’ve got a great team.” She reached for coffee, smiled at the vase of cheery flowers beside her monitor. “Even better now that you and Lorraine are signing up.”

  “Neither one of us would miss it.”

  “I think we’re going to need a bigger boat, certainly until Matthew can build one.”

  But it wasn’t that which preyed on her mind while Hayden muttered over her notes. Tate braced her shoulders and screwed up her courage.

  “Tell me honestly, Hayden, when the reps and other scientists get here, am I prepared for them? Are my notes and papers organized and detailed enough? Without being able to use outside resources, I’ve had to guess on so many of the artifacts that I—”

  “Are you looking for a grade?”
he interrupted.

  The amusement in his eyes had her squirming. “No. Well, maybe. I’m nervous.”

  He took off his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose, then replaced them. “You spent last night fighting a madman, all morning talking to police, and giving a presentation to colleagues makes you nervous?”

  “I’ve had more time to think about the colleagues,” she said dryly. “I’m greedy, Hayden. I want to make a huge splash with this. It will be the foundation for the Beaumont-Lassiter Museum of Marine Archeology.”

  She picked up the necklace that lay on the table. She’d needed, for reasons she no longer felt required analysis, to keep it close.

  It was cool in her hands now. Beautiful, priceless and, she thought, quiet at last.

  “And I . . . well, I want Angelique’s Curse to have the home it deserves after four hundred years of waiting.”

  “Then I can honestly tell you in my professional opinion, you have a very strong foundation.”

  Very gently, she laid the necklace back in its padded box. “But do you think that—” She broke off, glancing toward the window at the sound of clanging and motorized hiccoughing. “What the hell is that?”

  “Whatever it is, it sounds bad.”

  They went on deck together where Matthew and Lorraine were already at the rail. Ray and Marla bolted out of the galley.

  “What an awful noise,” Marla began, then her eyes widened. “Oh my God, what is that thing?”

  “I think it’s supposed to be a boat,” Tate murmured. “But don’t take my word for it.”

  It was painted a virulent pink, which clashed interestingly with the heavy rust. The flying bridge shuddered each time the engine belched. As it drew alongside, Tate estimated that it was forty feet of warped wood, cracked glass and corroding metal.

  Buck stood at the wheel, waving wildly. “Ain’t she something?” he shouted. He cut the engines, which showed their appreciation by vomiting a spew of smoke. “Weigh anchor.”

  There was a horrible grinding sound, a shudder and screech. Buck shoved up his shaded glasses and grinned.

  “Going to christen her Diana. LaRue says she was a hell of a hunter.”

  “Buck.” Matthew coughed and waved at the smoke carried cheerfully by the breeze. “Are you telling me you bought that thing?”

  “We bought this thing,” LaRue announced and strolled out on the slanted deck. “We are partners, me and Buck.”

  “You’re going to die,” Matthew decided.

  “Just needs some paint, little sanding, some mechanical work.” Buck started down the steps to the deck. Fortunately, it was the second riser from the bottom that snapped under his weight. “Some carpentry,” he added, still grinning.

  “You gave someone money for that?” Tate wondered.

  “She was a bargain.” LaRue tapped the rail cautiously. “When she’s shipshape and our work is done here, we are off to Bimini.”

  “Bimini?” Matthew repeated.

  “There’s always another wreck, boy.” He beamed at Matthew. “Been too many years since I had a boat of my own under me.”

  “How’s it going to stay under him?” Tate murmured under her breath. “Buck, wouldn’t it be better to—”

  But Matthew put a hand over hers and squeezed. “You’ll make her shine, Buck.”

  “Coming aboard for inspection,” Ray called out. He stripped off his shoes and shirt and plunged into the water.

  “They do love their toys,” Marla decided. “I’m making lemon tarts if anyone wants a snack.”

  “Right behind you.” Lorraine grabbed Hayden’s hand.

  “Matthew, that boat is a mess. They’ll have to replace every board and spur.”

  “So?”

  Tate blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Wouldn’t it be more practical to put their money into something in better condition? Into something in any kind of condition?”

  “Sure. But it wouldn’t be as much fun.” He kissed her, and when she started to speak, kissed her again, thoroughly. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, but Buck—”

  “Knows just what he’s doing.” Matthew grinned over the rail where the three men were busy laughing and examining the broken step. “Charting a new course.”

  Bemused, she shook her head. “I think you’d like to go with them, bailing all the way to Bimini.”

  “Nope.” He scooped her into his arms, spun a circle. “I’ve got my own course. Straight ahead full. Want to get married?”

  “Yeah. How about tomorrow?”

  “Deal.” The reckless light came into his eyes. “Let’s dive.”

  “All right, I—” She squealed when he carried her to the rail. “Don’t you dare throw me in. I’m still dressed. Matthew, I mean it. Don’t—”

  She gave a scream of helpless laughter as he leapt out into the water.