Out of Her Depth

by Brenda Hiatt

  I sagged with relief, allowing myself to just bob on the surface and breathe, waiting for rescue. At least I hoped it would be a rescue and not yet another person working with Melanie/Michelle and company. By now I almost didn’t care, as long as whoever it was got us out of the water.

  As the boat got close, I saw that it was a small one, about the size of Van’s dive boat and built along the same lines. I hoped that meant it would have a ladder, which would make it a lot easier for us to climb aboard.

  While I rested, Tom kept moving toward the boat and reached it while it was still maybe thirty yards from me. It apparently did have a ladder, because I could see the figure aboard moving to the back of the boat to lower it, along with the faint splashing that had to be Tom swimming to the same spot.

  Wearily, I started swimming forward again. I didn’t really think Tom would let the boat leave without me, but I wasn’t willing to take the chance.

  I’d nearly reached the boat by the time Tom was climbing the ladder, apparently with substantial assistance from the man on board. He’d have had to be told to take off his fins, I realized, plus I was pretty sure Tom had never climbed up a boat ladder before. Definitely not with a tank on his back.

  “All right, you sit right over there,” I heard a voice saying as I approached the ladder. A familiar voice, I was almost sure, though it was possible I was hearing what I very much wanted to hear.

  “I heard someone else out there—a woman.” I was almost sure about the voice now. And a moment later, I was close enough to see him.

  “Ronan?” I called, nearly weeping with relief.

  Then I saw the gun in his hand, pointed at Tom.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “NO. OH, NO,” I moaned. Then, completely overwhelmed to discover, after everything else, that Ronan was one of the bad guys, I started to cry.

  “Wynne?” His voice sounded eager, even happy. “Wynne, is that you?”

  I was afraid to answer, but even more afraid not to. “Yes. Yes, it’s me.”

  “Oh, thank God!” he exclaimed, coming to the ladder and peering toward me. “But who?” He turned back toward Tom, the gun still in his hand.

  “It’s Tom.” A tiny hope that I barely dared to acknowledge flared up. “Who did you think it was?”

  “Tom? Your ex?” He went back to Tom and pulled off his mask. “Oh, man, I’m sorry. Let me help Wynne up, and I’ll explain.”

  To my amazed relief, he put the gun down and came back to the ladder. I could see his teeth gleaming in the moonlight—in a smile. “Do you have your fins off?” he asked.

  “Yes, here.” I handed them up, and then he was helping me, almost hauling me, up the ladder.

  I was so exhausted, I was more than willing to let him do most of the work. The moment I was up, he surprised me by wrapping me in a bear hug. Maybe he was just relieved. I certainly was, and maybe that was why I hugged him back.

  Before I could decide, he half guided, half carried me to the bench beside Tom so I could sit and get the heavy tank off of me.

  “What are you doing out here?” I asked, pulling off my mask and unclipping my vest. “And why did you have a gun?”

  “I came by boat in case Michelle or anyone else tried to escape by water when they realized they were trapped,” he said. “Look.” He pointed back toward shore.

  I looked and saw lights—flashing red and blue lights, and several sets of headlights. “Who else is there?”

  “Haliakis and the FBI and the Aruban police, I imagine. At least, that was the plan, and it looks from here like it worked. We won’t know for sure until we get back to shore.”

  “You got my message, then?”

  “I did. And I’m really, really sorry I didn’t check my voice mail sooner. I could have told you it would be a trap, especially once I found out it was Phelps’s room that note was delivered to.”

  “But how—” I started to ask when Tom interrupted.

  “Look, can we do all the explanations later? I really want to get into something dry—and have a good, stiff drink.”

  Ronan laughed, which was more than I was up to just yet. “I don’t blame you a bit, buddy. Yeah, let’s get back. We can talk on the way.”

  He powered up the boat—I realized now that it really was Van’s Vandal—and swung it north, toward the tip of the island.

  “There’s no place to put in along here, so we’ll go around the point and dock at Palm Beach,” he explained. “That way we can get you both into something warm and dry before we go meet the others.”

  It sounded like an excellent plan to me.

  “Okay, I told you what I was doing out here,” Ronan said when I joined him at the helm, still wearing my wetsuit for warmth. “What were you two doing in the ocean in the middle of the night? Where did you get the dive gear?”

  “They brought it,” I told him. “Phelps, or I guess it was Lenny, had the idea to make it look like we died in a diving accident.”

  “It’s a miracle that you didn’t,” he said, staring at me for a moment.

  I realized he was right. I’d gotten my miracle. I sent up another, belated prayer of thanks.

  Ronan continued as though he hadn’t heard. “That surf, those rocks—there’s a reason only the most advanced divers ever do this side of the island.”

  “If you hadn’t come, I’m sure they’d have succeeded,” I said. “Even if I’d figured out that the police had come, I don’t think we could have made it back in through those rocks without getting killed. My whole body is one big bruise from the trip out.” I looked down at my bleeding knees.

  Ronan reached out and squeezed my shoulder. I thought he was about to say something, but then he seemed to change his mind and faced forward again. Another wave of exhaustion hit me, and I went back to sit by Tom, who was leaning against his tank and vest, snoring.

  I envied him. Tired as I was, I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight until everything had been settled. And I suspected that was going to take hours.

  AS IT TURNED out, I was wrong on one count. When Ronan cut the engine, I jerked awake to discovered I’d dozed off against Tom’s shoulder. How embarrassing.

  My other prediction was correct, though. By the time Tom and I had changed into dry clothes and had our numerous cuts and scrapes bandaged, Agents Truman and Walters were waiting for us, along with Argus Haliakis and the chief of the Aruban police force. It was going to be a long, long night.

  The Royal Aruban opened a small conference room for our use so that the police and the FBI agents could take statements from us. Over the next two or three hours—I lost track of time after a while, despite endless cups of coffee—I learned almost as much as I told.

  “Was I right?” was my first question as we all took our seats around the conference table, Ronan on my right and Tom on my left. “It was Melanie Melampus after all, wasn’t it, and not Michelle Alvares?”

  “You were right, Ms. Seally,” Mr. Haliakis answered before anyone else could. “I recognized her right off—along with my cousin Loxi. Did you say he was calling himself Lenny? He used to work for Mr. M but quit after . . . well, a few months before Mrs. M disappeared.”

  “He’s your cousin?” No wonder they looked so much alike. “So he quit after Mr. Melampus’s conversion?”

  Agent Walters, across the table, mumbled something I didn’t catch.

  “Yeah. We never did get along. He’s a few years older and used to bully me when we was kids. I guess him and Mrs. M both felt the same way about Mr. M getting religion.”

  “I don’t know about that last part,” said Agent Truman, “but it’s true that your original guess was correct, Ms. Seally. Melanie Melampus admitted her identity after Mr. Haliakis recognized her, and it won’t be difficult to verify that. I apologize for our earlier skepticism.”

>   No apology from Walters, I noticed.

  “So . . . what about Michelle Alvares?” I asked. “Where is she?”

  There was a silence, during which I thought both FBI agents looked uncomfortable, and then Ronan spoke.

  “From what Gus, er, Mr. Haliakis and I have been piecing together, it’s looking like there might never have been a Michelle Alvares.”

  “Never—” Maybe because I was so tired, I couldn’t seem to wrap my mind around that at first. “You mean . . . Melanie made her up? But the newspaper stories—”

  “Were all interviews with Melanie,” Ronan said, and Agent Truman nodded. Walters just glowered. “If you remember, no one else ever saw Michelle.”

  “And the first Mr. M or anyone else heard about her was pretty recent,” Haliakis put in. “I’d say right about the time Mr. M pulled out of his more, um, unconventional businesses—” he glanced at the FBI agents— “and changed his will to leave most of his stuff to charity.”

  “Instead of to Melanie?” I was starting to understand, even with my brain in low gear.

  Agent Truman cleared his throat. “Yes, well, we can puzzle out all of the details later, when we have more of the facts. Right now, I’d like to get statements from Mr. and Ms. Seally and Mr. Gale, here—who somehow seems to have been left out of what we were told earlier.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that, too,” Haliakis said, but now he was grinning.

  If I hadn’t been so tired, I might have blushed. I did wonder what all of this would do to Ronan’s chances of getting that million dollar bonus, but I wasn’t quite brain-dead enough to ask right then. I hoped I’d get a chance later.

  The interrogation started in earnest then, Agent Truman asking most of the questions with an occasional query from Walters and the Aruban police chief, whose name I never quite caught.

  Tom didn’t have much to add to my account, beyond his conversation with Phelps earlier that evening. However, he looked more and more horrified as I gave my own rendition of events, starting with my first finding the ring and continuing through tonight’s near catastrophe.

  “Maybe I should have called you tonight myself,” I said to Agent Truman, “but when they threatened my daughters—” I broke off in sudden horror. “My daughters! What if Melanie or Phelps get a message to whoever they have in Indiana? What if—”

  “Not to worry, Ms. Seally,” Mr. Haliakis said. “I’ve already talked to Mr. M, and he’ll make sure no one touches your girls.”

  “From Miami?” Tom spoke for the first time in almost an hour. “How can he do that?”

  It was Walters who answered him. “I imagine Melampus still has connections, no matter how he pretends to have gone straight. Eh, Mr. Haliakis?”

  “I wouldn’t know, sir,” Haliakis replied, giving nothing away with his expression. “The important thing is that the Seallys’ kids are safe.”

  “Well, I’ll be going home tomorrow—or rather today,” Tom said. “So I can make sure of that.”

  It was nice that he cared—or said he cared—but I couldn’t help trusting Stefan Melampus’s ability to keep the girls safe more than Tom’s. “I’m glad to hear that,” was all I said.

  “I assume you’re coming with me. After all this, I’m sure you’ve had enough of Aruba.”

  As much as I wanted to see the girls again, to hug them and reassure myself that they were safe, I shook my head. “I still have a few days left of what was supposed to be a vacation. I plan to use them to relax, and maybe get a bit of a tan.”

  “But—”

  “Mr. Seally, perhaps you and your wife can have this discussion later,” Agent Truman suggested. “Right now, I’d like to finish this interview and let everyone go get some sleep.”

  Tom nodded, though he shot me a disgruntled look, along with a frown for Ronan, who hadn’t said a word.

  “All of you realize that you may be called upon to testify, should any of these cases make it to trial?” Truman asked then, looking at Ronan and Haliakis, as well as Tom and me.

  “Do you mean that any of them—Phelps, Melanie or Lenny, er, Loxi—might get off?” I asked, startled.

  Truman shrugged. “It’s always a possibility. In a situation like this, I’d call it a probability, given their connections and that we only have two witnesses, and no one was seriously hurt. Phelps may get disbarred, but that’s not a criminal proceeding.”

  “But he tried to kill us!” Tom protested.

  “Yes, but he didn’t succeed. And he managed to ditch the gun you both say he had—probably threw it in the ocean. Even if it turns up later, it’ll be hard to tie it to him. We did find the ring on him, at least.”

  “And what about Melanie?” I asked. “Isn’t she guilty of insurance fraud, at the very least?”

  Ronan touched my arm. “I hate to tell you this, but even in the most flagrant cases—which this is—convictions for insurance fraud are really rare. Especially when the perpetrator never collected, which she didn’t.”

  Again I wondered about his commission. But all I said was, “That just seems so wrong. But at least her showing up alive will void Stefan Melampus’s murder charge.”

  “Yeah, his house arrest will be lifted by midday tomorrow,” Walters said, clearly disgusted. “We’ll probably never nail him now. For anything.”

  I exchanged glances with Gus Haliakis, but both of us managed to keep from grinning.

  Agent Truman frowned at his partner, but didn’t disagree with him. “Well, I think that’s everything, unless you have any more questions?” he asked the police chief.

  The poor man looked half asleep. “What? No, I don’t think so.”

  We all stood, shook hands all around, made sure everyone had everyone else’s contact information, then went our separate ways. I’d never been so tired in my life—at least, not since getting the girls through their last bouts of all-night childhood illnesses.

  Out in the lobby, Tom again tried to persuade me to leave with him on the first available flight. “The girls will expect it,” he said.

  “They won’t. They’ve been very supportive of my taking this trip. I’ll call them both tomorrow and take them to dinner when I get back. You can take them out tomorrow night, if you want, and if Darlene doesn’t have other plans.”

  “I told you—” he began, then apparently realized I was baiting him. “Good night, Wynne.” He headed for the elevators.

  I waited a moment, not wanting to ride up in the same car, and realized Ronan was still standing there, a few paces away. He looked at me questioningly, and I managed a tired smile.

  “So, what will this do to your big bonus?” I asked him. “I’m sorry if I screwed that up for you by almost getting killed.”

  He chuckled and came over to me. “It’s too soon to tell, but I hope you’ll believe me when I say that the thought of losing you scared me a lot more than the thought of losing that bonus.”

  That was nice to hear, but I was in no state just then to deal with any ramifications underlying his words. “Thank you, Ronan. But I can’t—”

  “Hey, no strings, no expectations. I know you’re not ready for that just yet.” He glanced toward the elevators, where Tom had just disappeared. “I just wanted you to know.”

  “Thanks,” I said again. “I hope I’ll see you again before I leave Aruba.”

  “Count on it. Now, go to bed and don’t set the alarm.” He kissed me lightly on the cheek, turned me toward the elevators, and gave me a tiny push.

  Zombie-like, I made my way up to my room, staggered through my bedtime routine, then fell into a coma-like sleep without dreams, as far as I could remember.

  THE BEDSIDE phone woke me ten minutes before noon. I rolled over, still groggy, to answer it.

  “Wynne? It’s Tom. I’m booked on a two fifteen flight, so I’m le
aving for the airport in a few minutes. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me? I checked, and there are still seats available.”

  “What? Oh. No, I’m sure. I couldn’t be ready in time even if I wanted to. Your call woke me up.”

  “Oh, um, sorry.” He sounded more irritated than contrite.

  “That’s okay. I didn’t plan to sleep this late anyway. Have a good flight.”

  “Yeah. Maybe we can talk when you get home?”

  “Right.” I hung up without committing to that conversation, but there was probably no avoiding it. I still wasn’t ready to completely forgive him—that would take a lot more growth on my part. But I could make an effort to be civil, at least, for the girls’ sakes.

  That reminded me that I needed to call them. I’d forgotten to plug in my cell phone—it was still in my purse, which Agent Truman had retrieved from Tom’s rental car. I assumed he’d gotten the car back as well, though I couldn’t remember if it had come up last night.

  I plugged my phone in and made both calls while it charged. The girls and my mom were all fine, and all still confused. I told them Tom would be home that night, gave them a very sketchy synopsis of recent events, leaving out the scariest parts, and promised to go into detail when I returned home in a few days.

  That done, I showered and dressed so that I could go in search of sustenance. My stomach was growling—not surprising after my early dinner, an enormous amount of exertion in the water, and no breakfast.

  Ronan was in the lobby when I reached it. “Hey, sleepyhead,” he greeted me. “I didn’t want to call your room and risk waking you, so I’ve been waiting here for you to return to the land of the living.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Tom wasn’t so considerate. He called to say he’s catching an early afternoon flight. Just as well, though, because I’m starving.”

  “Then let’s get you something to eat,” he said with a grin.

  The hotel dining room was the closest option, so we headed there. “Have you ever been around me when I wasn’t hungry?” I asked. “I promise, I’m not this way at home.”