Dead in the Water

by Janice Kay Johnson - His Best Friend's Baby

  Adam paused, first to listen for any indication other people were near—or even existed—and then to look up at the sky. Sailing the Pacific Coast, whatever his objective, he’d enjoyed standing out on deck and gazing up at the night sky. The splash of stars was astonishing, the faint glow of more distant ones visible in a way they never were in a good part of the lower forty-eight. Humanity had forgotten what they’d lost in their dependence on electricity.

  Tonight, he needed to stretch out and not move for ten hours or so.

  He lowered himself carefully to a crouch and then crawled into the small tent. A dark shape only, Claire reached out a hand to touch him.

  “Are you warm enough? We can share a sleeping bag for the night if...you worry about holding on to your body heat.”

  She sounded endearingly shy, in contrast to her usual boldness.

  Adam said, “I’d probably survive, but I’d prefer sharing.”

  Quiet for a moment, she said finally, “Okay, but only for warmth.”

  “I’ll be good.” He doubted he was in any physical shape to take his attraction to her anywhere.

  “May I touch your forehead?”

  Her hand still rested on his arm. He lifted it gently, uncurled her fingers and bent forward to give her access.

  “You feel warm,” she murmured.

  “I did say—”

  “I’m worrying that you might develop a fever.”

  “Oh.” That made sense, except—“Wouldn’t the salt water have cleaned out the wound adequately?”

  “Probably. Never mind. I’m a worrier.”

  They were alike in that, then. Worrying, planning, staying wary, kept a man alive.

  Sounding brisk, she suggested he remove a few layers of clothing, and offered to help when he needed it. He felt damn shaky by the time they were done, and he was able to lie down. Cold, too, but that was remedied when Claire climbed in with him and zipped up, closing out the night air.

  Tonight, she’d even provided a pillow. He patted it, realizing it was one of those bags full of clothes.

  She squirmed next to him, pulling up the second sleeping bag to provide additional warmth, then lay completely still. There couldn’t be more than an inch separating them, given the tight quarters, but she was trying to stay separate.

  He reached out his left arm in an invitation. “Isn’t cuddling the idea?”

  “I...guess so.” She scooted closer.

  Smiling at her stiff concession, Adam discovered that, while drowsiness was taking shape, he wasn’t quite ready to sink into a deep slumber yet. Although Claire had laid her head on his good shoulder, she was far from relaxed.

  “Will you tell me about yourself?” he asked to offer a distraction to the uncomfortable situation. “What do you do for a living?”

  “I work in human resources. Not very exciting, I know.” She told him the name of the good-sized manufacturing company. “I started at Boeing, worked for a hotel chain, then made this latest jump for a more senior position.”

  “How’d you get into that?”

  “I majored in psychology. I couldn’t really afford to go on for an advanced degree and wasn’t sure I wanted to do counseling, so I looked out there to see what the degree was good for. What I learned in the psych classes actually does give me some insight I use for hiring and solving problems with existing employees.”

  “I bet.” Adam thought about a couple of fellow agents who had major issues that most people shrugged off.

  “What about you?”

  Her breath whispered over the bare skin on his neck, momentarily sidetracking his brain.

  “Chemistry. That’s what I majored in. I went to work for the DEA as a chemist. The agency isn’t all about illegal drugs. I got bored fast, and when I saw a chance to shift to becoming an agent, I jumped at it.”

  “Is it everything you thought it would be?”

  Not a good time to confront his recent unease. “Sure. I liked action. I even liked playing roles. Did I mention that I acted regularly in theater productions during college?” Hoping she didn’t notice his use of the past tense, he shut up.

  “Undercover work must be hard on relationships,” she observed thoughtfully.

  Talking like this in the increasing darkness, unable to see expressions, was different.

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “I come back from being under for a couple of months, find friends have moved, fellow agents have been transferred. I get transferred.” He frowned. “Fine by me. I’m a loner by nature.”

  Yet, he’d taken to wondering whether that was true. A lonely childhood had left him used to being alone, but did that mean it was his nature? Or had he just lost the chance to learn how to form or maintain lasting ties to anyone? All he felt was suspicion when he saw outwardly happy families.

  Why the hell was he indulging in soul searching?

  “Let’s get to sleep,” he said brusquely.

  When she didn’t say a word, Adam realized he wasn’t quite ready to end the conversation.

  “Are you involved with someone?” he heard himself ask.

  “I thought you didn’t want to talk anymore.”

  “Question just struck me.” He hadn’t wanted to lie, but he wasn’t going to tell her that he’d been wondering from the moment he’d warmed up in her arms.

  “I...was engaged,” she said softly. “Broke it off about a year ago. Among other problems, he hated my kayaking. If he wasn’t interested in a sport or hobby, we couldn’t to do it.”

  He liked her wryness even as he suspected it hid lingering hurt. “Good thing you didn’t go so far as marry the jackass.”

  Her chuckle raised goose bumps.

  The small electrical charge blended with his increasing relaxation.

  What kind of idiot would let her go? Adam didn’t trust easily—or at all—but with this woman... He came suddenly alert. Sure, she’d surprised him. Astonished him, really, with her guts, strength and persistence, all in aid of a man she didn’t even know. She’d never quit on someone she loved.

  But she neither loved nor trusted him. And he shouldn’t need the reminder. Speaking of idiots.

  It was a long time until he surrendered to sleep, and she was still tense beside him when he checked out.

  * * *

  CLAIRE WAS FIRST aware of blissful warmth, then of a large hand wrapped around her side, securing her against a muscular body. His slow, deep breaths stirred her hair. She couldn’t quite hear his heartbeats, but felt the rise and fall of his chest.

  The stranger.

  Abruptly awake, she realized how closely entwined they were. He’d stayed on his back, probably the only comfortable position for him given the shoulder injury. She’d flung one of her legs across his sometime during the night.

  Time to retreat. She shouldn’t have even offered to share a sleeping bag with him last night. Then, the idea of holding each other felt comforting, even necessary. Now dumb was the word that came to mind.

  She couldn’t forget that she really didn’t know him.

  Chemistry major? Maybe. It’s not like she could even ask casual questions to confirm he had basic knowledge. She’d hated the class in high school, and let any short-term knowledge go once she’d received a passing grade.

  First, she very slowly lifted her leg off his, then squirmed backward. His arm tightened around her, but then relaxed and fell away. She saw no sign he was waking up. Unzipping the sleeping bag took some gymnastics, but she made her escape.

  Morning or not, this wasn’t sunbathing weather, so she dressed hastily and crawled out of the tent. One last peek found him still breathing deeply through parted lips. Definitely asleep.

  They’d survived yesterday, but her nerves crawled at what today would bring.

  Take advantage of the privacy for a quick trip to the woods, she decided, then a cu
p of coffee. When Adam appeared, she’d make breakfast, which usually consisted of oatmeal with dried fruit and sugar or honey.

  Finish searching Mike’s kayak. Who knew what he might have stashed away? Pray she found his SPOT. He might have dropped it into a bag, comfortable with the knowledge that he had the VHF radio at hand, right?

  Not convinced, Claire grabbed the toilet paper and made her absolutely necessary trip. Returning, she let herself enjoy the weak sun on her face.

  The tide was on its way in. She ached to pack up and ready her kayak for departure. When the tide turned to go out again would be the perfect time to launch.

  South to Haikai Passage would be the most direct way to find help, but they—she—would risk encountering the freighter. It had to be hovering at the first deep anchorage beyond the string of islands. But where?

  Knowing how close Fitz Hugh Sound and the town of Namu were, as a crow flies, frustrated her. They wouldn’t even have to reach the town, because they were certain to encounter heavy marine traffic on Fitz Hugh Sound, or before that when they got near a fishing camp. Getting there from here was the trick, though.

  She continued to worry away at the problem.

  West into Queen Charlotte Sound was too risky unless she left Adam behind. Dodging among islands had risks, too, but any weather change could mean swells or worse out on the open ocean. And, in her experience, the weather would change. There’d been more rainy or foggy days than sunny so far on this trip.

  North seemed most logical, then, toward Hunter Channel and the Indigenous settlement of Bella Bella—assuming they didn’t meet up with friendly fishermen or vacationers in a cabin cruiser on the way.

  Maybe, given Adam’s inexperience and injury, the best they could do for a day or two was sneak around islands and gain some distance from the searchers.

  Unless she deserted Adam, they didn’t dare go anywhere today, though. Tomorrow, however, they almost had to, because they’d run out of drinkable water.

  She and Mike—

  The stab of pain forced her to bend forward. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought about him, but now, everything she’d suppressed hit her. The first wrenching sob took her completely by surprise. She clapped her hand over her mouth to keep it silent, but nothing could stop the onslaught of grief that had chosen its time.

  Chapter Six

  Adam came awake with a rush, knowing instantly that something was missing.

  Someone.

  He surged to a sitting position, listening and not hearing a peep. As hyperalert as he always was, even in sleep he never let himself be unaware of any movement or sound from a woman in his bed, or men he bunked with. If Claire had decided she knew best and left, he’d—

  Do what? he asked himself, angry. Dive into the freezing water and swim after her? That’d probably be faster than he’d move in a kayak, especially given the fierce pain in his right chest and back. At least the water would numb the pain if he dove in.

  Swearing under his breath, he unzipped the bag and reached for the borrowed pants. For an almost-summer day, it was a lot colder than he liked. Not knowing the time increased his sense of being cut off from the world.

  Dressed in the borrowed layers, he scrambled out, pulling the extra sleeping bag around him.

  The minute he emerged from the tent, he saw her, sitting in her low-to-the-ground folding chair, nursing a hot cup of something in her hands. The relief was almost painful, although he noticed immediately that her eyes looked red and puffy.

  She held a shushing finger to her lips, then pointed toward the trees. He went still, his gaze following hers.

  A bald eagle sat on a branch not twenty-five feet from them. He clutched a fish in his talons, presumably breakfast. He also glared at them with savage disdain. They weren’t supposed to be here.

  “Friendly-looking guy,” Adam murmured.

  Claire smiled. “There’s something almost reptilian in their eyes.”

  He’d seen bald eagles before; they were everywhere in western Washington, British Columbia and Alaska. Never this close, though. Never looked at one of the magnificent birds and known it was looking back.

  After a moment, it spread broad wings and lifted off, fish still dangling, limp, from sharp talons.

  Claire leaned forward to light the stove again. “Didn’t want to have breakfast with us.”

  “Guess not.”

  “Coffee? Tea? Cocoa?”

  He’d caught the fragrance of her roast. “Coffee.”

  First he made a detour, just as glad to have an excuse to gather himself before facing her scrutiny.

  She averted her face when he returned and took his own seat. After a minute, he asked, “You okay?”

  Claire lifted one shoulder in a tentative shrug. “Sure. It just hit me, that’s all.”

  “Not helped by my presence, wearing your friend’s clothes and using his toothbrush.”

  “No, that part doesn’t bother me. I’m glad I could save someone. You know?”

  He knew, although the ghosts of those he’d failed seemed more populous than the people he’d been able to pull out of bad situations. Still, he nodded.

  “How do you feel?” she asked.

  Now that the adrenaline was subsiding, he could evaluate his condition. “Better,” he decided. “I felt steady walking. My brain isn’t foggy.”

  “Good. You’re due for some painkillers. After breakfast, let me take a look at your wounds.”

  He grimaced. “Do I have to take my shirt off?”

  She laughed.

  As she poured his coffee, he said, “The drug trade is thriving in the Caribbean, but it’s warm there. I should have resisted the last transfer.”

  “But it’s more beautiful here, right?”

  He waggled a hand, and she laughed again.

  He bet she’d enjoy kayaking in the vivid blue waters off Belize, say. He’d done some diving there, just for fun. Fun didn’t play much part in his life, which might be why the memory was so vivid.

  “You mind oatmeal?”

  “As opposed to scrambled eggs and bacon?”

  Nose wrinkled, she admitted, “Oats are all that’s on the menu.”

  “I’ll take it.” Adam turned his gaze toward the water advancing between the sharp cut of rocks, white fingers reaching forward. Kelp had been deposited on the tiny pebble beach last night, but would likely be pulled out by the next low tide. As hidden as this spot was, the fact that Claire had found it was downright miraculous.

  “Hear any motors this morning?”

  “Nope. They could be circling different islands and still not be far away, though.”

  She declined his offer to help her clean up after breakfast, and he didn’t blame her. She had it down to a fine art. Still, he watched carefully, not enjoying the experience of being a burden instead of useful.

  Once Claire was done, she fetched the first-aid kit, and he reluctantly shed his sweatshirt. Her hands were gentle as she removed the wrappings and gauze. He could tell she was trying to be dispassionate, but this was nothing like an examination in a hospital or clinic. He was too aware of her, and her rising color betrayed equal consciousness of him even if she was careful not to meet his eyes.

  Adam twisted his neck to see the bullet wound in front. He’d had them before, and this one looked clean to him. Claire seemed to agree, because all she did was apply more antibiotic ointment and cover it with gauze.

  Once she’d moved behind him, she said, “This is going to leave a heck of a scar.”

  “Not my first one.”

  “No.”

  He didn’t have a lot of sensation where he’d been slashed by a knife on his back, but he’d swear he felt her fingertips skim along the trajectory of the scar.

  “Ever think you might be getting down to your last of nine lives?”

 
He’d never thought about it that way, but she might have a point.

  Once she rewrapped him, he eased the sweatshirt back on.

  Again, Claire didn’t quite look at him as she retreated to her chair. Too much close contact?

  “So.” She sounded stiff. “I’ve been doing some thinking.”

  He waited.

  “Mostly, about our route when we do make a move.” Without waiting for a response, she laid out charts in front of him. Bending over, he studied them as she calmly told him her conclusions about their options.

  He didn’t disagree, although he said, “We’re having a streak of good weather.”

  “Have you spent much time on this coast?”

  “One previous trip in May on that rust bucket out of Juneau. Ended farther north than this, somewhere off the McNaughton islands. I can’t claim to be an expert.”

  “Well, boaters in general check the weather every evening on the VHF radio, because it’s so changeable. A large ship can handle a twenty-foot swell, but kayaks are relatively frail. You need to know whether it’s safe to launch, given the route you plan for the day. It makes me nervous not having access to weather reports. A sunny sky when you launch at dawn doesn’t mean it could be pouring rain four hours later, or high winds won’t coincide with a rising tide. As it is...” She shrugged. “We’ll have to judge from our limited viewpoint. In general, mornings are calm, but the winds rise in the afternoon. That’s one reason we aim for early departures. Speaking of...”

  He looked at her.

  “Are the men looking for us likely to be out at dawn?”

  Depended on how desperate they were getting, he thought. “If we can’t paddle in the dark, as early as possible seems the safest to me.”

  She nodded. “Once the tide’s all the way in, we’ll have a lesson in kayaking. I can at least demonstrate some basics.”

  Paddling was not going to feel good. Adam had worked through pain before, but he was having too much time to anticipate the agony. Still, she was right. If nothing else, running out of drinking water would be a critical problem.