Night Swimming

by Laura Moore

  “Relax, Lily,” he said, his mouth quirked in a smile. “It’s a perfect day.”

  “It’s pouring outside, Sean.”

  “Yup. Nothing but rain in the forecast—the paper even said a big storm may be heading our way.”

  “And that’s perfect?”

  “Damn straight. It’s Sunday, there’s food in the fridge. The newspaper’s in the kitchen. I’ve got you, you’ve got me. . . . Who could ask for anything more?”

  Her stomach had begun rumbling at the mention of food. “How about breakfast in bed?”

  “Sure thing, Dr. Banyon.” He leaned over and captured her lips in a long, honeyed kiss. His voice had a now-familiar huskiness when he spoke again. “Then, if you’re extra nice to me, I’ll make love to you until you never want to leave.”

  He was too late, Lily thought, as she watched him roll out of bed and pull on his jeans. The very idea of being apart from Sean wrenched her heart. But as she lay in the bed, she found herself staring pensively out the window, unable to shake the feeling that the world outside threatened all she held dear.

  The empty breakfast tray was on the floor. Newspaper sections lay scattered across the floor. Once again, Lily was floating in a state of lazy contentment, her previous worries banished by the magic of Sean’s lovemaking. Her eyes were closed, the better to feel Sean’s hands moving over her body.

  It felt almost decadent, this surfeit of happiness. She loved how he touched her, how he knew precisely where to touch her, so that she cried and flew apart in a thousand tiny pieces. She loved how he knew to hold her gently, making her whole once more.

  Lily felt Sean shift beside her. Her heavy lids lifted to find him propped on an elbow, his hazel eyes lit with a warmly possessive gleam.

  “So our study’s finished?” she heard him ask. They’d been having a conversation of sorts; stray comments interrupted by tantalizing caresses and soft, whispered moans.

  “Study?” she said blankly. Her mind conjuring only the fascinating discoveries Sean had made studying her body, learning all her erogenous zones. Please don’t let him stop.

  “Study,” he repeated. Amusement thread his voice. “As in reef. You remember the reef, Lily. . . .”

  She sat up with a gasp.

  Sean laughed softly, his grin wide. “You should see your face. You’ve got this look like you’ve come to school having forgotten your homework.”

  She dropped her head into her hands. “I was distracted.”

  “Ahh, Dr. Banyon, you are incredibly good for my ego. A few more compliments like that . . .”

  Her head lifted and she shot him an exasperated look. “Can it, Sean. This is really serious. I can’t believe I forgot. That last reef dive we made? There’s a hot spot.”

  “What?” Sean said, his jaw slack with astonishment.

  “The southernmost section of zone one has a hot spot,” she clarified. “A hot spot is—”

  “Yes. I know what a hot spot is. I’ve read your book and your articles, too. A hot spot is a localized area in a reef which has succumbed to some kind of disease, right?” When Lily nodded, he asked, “But what’s it doing there?”

  “I don’t know. I should get the results from the center’s lab tomorrow. I’ve already started collecting data on current and tide charts for the area. And I took some additional samples at the marina. Once I get the breakdown of all the samples, I should have a better idea of what could be attacking the coral.”

  Sean was silent, his brow knitted in thought. “So how bad’s the problem?” he asked. “Is this hot spot very big?”

  She nodded glumly. “Big enough to be alarmed. I noted an unusual amount of coral bleaching. Both the hard and soft coral in the area are affected. And there were a number of dead sponges, too.”

  “From the types of diseases you saw down there, can you guess what the cause is?”

  “No.” Lily shook her head. “I can’t, not at this point. It could be anything—heavy metals, fertilizers, fecal matter, petroleum by-products, even paint scrapings from the hulls of boats—the possibilities are just too numerous.”

  “But whatever it is, it must be pretty lethal, though, to affect the area so quickly. Do diseases typically spread so rapidly?”

  “Well, sometimes there are flukes, random outbreaks that are like an epidemic. . . .”

  “But you don’t think that’s what is happening here?”

  “No, I don’t.” Lily’s somber tone matched his. “Which means there’s another problem.” She fell silent for a moment, absently tracing her finger along the seam of the bed sheet. “Sean, I’ve been going through Lesnesky’s notes. In the three studies he made of the reef system, there isn’t a single reading or observation that points to a problem.”

  “And you couldn’t have missed something? No, forget that, stupid question.” He leaned back against the pillows, lost in thought. “So basically,” he said slowly, “what this means is that your study is going to contradict Lesnesky’s in a major way.”

  “Yes,” she agreed quietly. “That sums it up very neatly. But I’ll have a body of evidence to support my findings—a full analysis of the water and sediment compositions, as well as Karen’s slides showing the diseased specimens.”

  He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles lightly. “I believe you, Lily,” he said. “And if Ferrucci starts screaming town hall down, we can shove a regulator in his mouth and take him on an underwater tour of the hot spot. Better yet, let’s forget the regulator.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Lily and Sean spent the rest of Sunday cloistered in the house, talking, laughing, and making love. Absorbed in the marvel of their newfound feelings, they were unwilling to leave their private refuge. Monday morning and the demands of the real world intruded far too soon.

  Sean drove Lily back to the condo. He felt both vindicated and shaken by the news of the hot spot. He wanted to get to the office early, so he and Evelyn could begin working on a strategy. The presence of a hot spot on the reef would surely thwart the plans to develop the marina. But he had to be ready for a brutal fight.

  The car’s wipers were on high. They whined in protest as they swiped ineffectually at the rain sheeting across the windshield. Chilled by the damp penetrating the old car, Lily burrowed deeper in the bucket seat, grateful she was wearing something warmer than her evening dress. She’d borrowed yet another pair of Sean’s jeans and a white, button-down shirt, which hung to midthigh. He’d given her one of his raincoats, too, as she’d left her own at May Ellen’s.

  Sean pulled up near the front entrance of the condo and ran around to her side to open the door. In the time it took for her to climb out, Sean’s hair was plastered to his head. He didn’t seem to care. He stood, holding the lapels of the coat he’d lent her, gazing into her face. Even though her heart ached, already missing him, Lily managed a smile as she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Thanks for the clothes.”

  “Any time,” he said graciously. “My clothes look damn fine on you. If you move in with me, Dr. Banyon, I’ll let you share my closet.”

  Sudden tears sprang to her eyes. Her heart felt as though it would burst. “Sean—” she began shakily.

  “Shh,” he said. With a smile, he laid a finger to her lips while his other hand brushed her cheek lightly, smoothing the tears away. “I’ve rushed you, I know. I’m sorry. I’d told myself to take it slow and let you get used to the idea. We’ll talk later, sort out what you want to do.” His hands cradled the sides of her face and he gazed deeply into her eyes. “I love you, Lily. We can make this work.” Holding her gaze, he lowered his mouth to hers, and kissed her. A kiss that turned ravenous in the pouring rain.

  “Go on up, before you’re soaked through,” he murmured when at last he released her. “Get some sleep, too. I’ve plans for us tonight,” he said, grinning. With a last, lingering kiss, he jumped back in his car and sped off.

  Lily walked through the lobby in a daze, and was hardly even aw
are when the elevator doors closed behind her. All she saw was Sean’s face in the rain, telling her he loved her, that he wanted to be with her. When Sean had gently brushed away her tears, he’d assumed they were caused by confusion and uncertainty. He was wrong.

  Lily had never wanted anything so badly in her life.

  Indeed, it was the intensity of her desire that terrified her. Her happiness surreal, she wondered whether she was dreaming, whether she’d awaken to find Sean’s words in the rain a figment of her imagination.

  It was early, so Lily took care to shut the door quietly. She unbuttoned Sean’s coat and hung it in the bathroom to dry. The apartment was totally silent apart from the angry drumming of the rain. The rain hadn’t stopped once since yesterday. The morning’s paper warned that the present system might possibly develop into a tropical storm.

  May Ellen would love that, Lily thought with a smile. She would call her grandmother later, at a respectable hour, and thank her and Kaye again for all they’d done . . . for the party, for the dress. Kaye might not have been the perfect mother when Lily was a child, but she was turning out to be a pretty good friend—and one who had dynamite taste in clothes.

  A sudden gust of wind howled outside, rattling the windows. The noise made her vastly relieved that she and John had finished collecting the reef samples, that Karen’s photos were taken. No one should be diving under these conditions.

  Her fingers raked her wet hair back from her forehead and she gave a sleepy yawn. Exhaustion hit her, settling over her like a heavy blanket. She found she could hardly keep her eyes open. Little wonder, she’d had precious few hours of sleep and prolonged bouts of intense physical activity.

  She’d do as Sean had advised, she thought, yawning again. She’d crawl under the covers and sleep for an hour or so. Lily padded toward the bedroom with a smile on her face, knowing she’d dream of Sean.

  She awoke to the sound of banging.

  “Lily, are you in there?” It was Karen’s voice. The urgency in it had Lily sitting up, rubbing her eyes.

  “Yes,” she managed groggily. “Just coming.” Rolling off the bed, she stumbled toward the door.

  “I’m really sorry to wake you, Lily, but I’m a little freaked out, and I don’t know what to do.”

  Karen certainly looked panicked. Her brown eyes were enormous in her drawn face and she was pacing the apartment, wringing her hands nervously.

  “What’s happened?” Lily asked as she sat down on the sofa.

  “I’ve just talked with Baldev—the guy at Duggal Photo Lab. I’d tried to call the lab a few times on Friday morning, but I kept getting a busy signal. Then, when I telephoned again Friday afternoon, there was this message saying the lab had closed for the weekend. So I made sure I was up by ten this morning, when I knew they opened. Lily, you won’t believe what Baldev told me: They don’t have my rolls of film.”

  Lily stared, trying to absorb what Karen had said. “John dropped them off Wednesday afternoon,” she reasoned slowly, “which means that even if they missed the afternoon shipment, the film would have gone out on Thursday. That—”

  “Would have given the package plenty of time to arrive by today—I know!” Karen cried. She had the hem of her purple sweatshirt in her hands and was knotting it as she wore a path in the carpet. “But Baldev insists they haven’t received anything from me.”

  “Where’s the FedEx receipt? We’ll call FedEx, ask them to track the shipment—”

  Again, Karen cut her off. “John has it. I forgot to get it from him ’cause I was feeling so sick. And then he took off for Miami.”

  “Where is John? He’s back, right?” But Lily knew the answer just by looking at Karen’s distraught face. “Why don’t you go pound on his door? It’s possible he got back and is racked out,” Lily said with an optimism she was far from feeling. “I’ll try him on his cell phone.”

  Pete Ferrucci pulled into the condominium’s parking lot and killed the car’s engine. Although it was broad daylight, he’d decided this was a safe spot to meet. The rain was coming down so hard it was practically impossible to see one’s hand in front of one’s face. Anyone who did recognize his Mercedes would assume Ferrucci had business in the management office.

  He lit a cigar and waited.

  It was all coming together, he thought, puffing with satisfaction. Banyon’s reef study was down the drain— literally. That slob Granger’s chest had been bloated with self-importance when he’d opened his car trunk and shown him the samples and film. The hot spot changed things, Granger had told him. He could sure use a little extra cash in his bank account—to tide him over until he started that job Ferrucci had lined up for him in Key West.

  What a fuckin’ moron, Ferrucci thought. He’d paid Lesnesky twenty times the chump change he handed over to Granger. ’Course, it was pretty clear that Granger was a stupid shit—he really believed he had a plum job waiting for him in Key West. There truly was a sucker born every minute.

  At the sharp rap on the window, Ferrucci turned his head. He stubbed his cigar out in the ashtray and depressed the lock release. The man climbed inside.

  “Shut the door quick. It’s a monsoon out there,” Ferrucci said impatiently. “Show me what you’ve got.”

  “Ain’t much, I’m afraid. Oh, they’re at it hot and heavy, all right, but your guy McDermott is one lucky SOB—and boy, do I mean lucky. The first time, the fucking curtains at the grandmother’s house were drawn. The second, it was goddamn black as pitch. I’d have needed studio lights to catch ’em. This is best shot I’ve got so far.”

  Ferrucci thumbed through the glossies on his lap. “Christ,” he said in disgust. “Is this the best you can do? I can hardly tell it’s them!”

  “That’s not my fault. I’m tailing these two around the clock. You don’t like the work, pay me my money and I’ll head back to—”

  “Hey, hey, calm down,” Ferrucci said hastily. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that. Only I want McDermott’s ass real bad.”

  “I understand, Mr. Ferrucci. I do have something you may find useful. It’s not a photograph, though. Which means we’ll have to negotiate a mutually agreeable price. It’s part of a conversation I happened to overhear between a certain scientist and the mayor. I know a newspaper or two that might be very interested in picking up the story.”

  Ferrucci smiled.

  One hour later, Lily was ready to admit that she was as “freaked” as Karen. An awful sense of dread consumed her. She had tried reaching John on his cell phone, only to hear the same message repeated over and over again: The cell phone customer she was calling was unavailable at this time. Meanwhile, increasingly lurid imaginings had wormed their way into her mind—of John lying dead in an alleyway behind some Miami nightclub, of his car smashed and mangled in an accident, the police unable to ID John or contact her.

  Between calls to John’s nonoperational cell, she’d also made one to FedEx, nearly babbling with relief when she was connected to a real live human being. The FedEx rep assured Lily that they could put a trace on the package. The computer would find either Karen’s name or Duggal Photo Lab’s in their shipping log. They’d call her as soon as they had any information.

  When the phone rang, both she and Karen jumped. Lily, her hands wrapped around a fortifying mug of coffee, cursed as hot liquid sloshed over the back of her hand.

  “Hello?” Karen spoke anxiously into the receiver. “Oh, hi, Simone,” she replied, her shoulders slumping with disappointment. “Yes, she’s here. Just a sec.”

  Lily went to the sink and quickly ran cold water over the reddened skin where the coffee had splattered. When she couldn’t find a dish towel, she patted her hand gingerly with her shirttail.

  Karen passed her the phone. Lily took a deep, calming breath. “Simone? It’s me.”

  “Was the phone off the hook? I thought I’d never get through. Listen, I have the results of the samples you sent last week—of the hot spot in zone one.”

  Something
in Simone’s voice made Lily clutch the phone in a death grip. “What’d you find?”

  “The most pristine core samples you could wish for outside the Garden of Eden.”

  Lily sat down heavily on the stool. “What did you just say, Simone?”

  “The sediment samples we tested from zone one had only trace amounts of heavy metals and petroleum by-products.”

  “What about bacteria or fertilizer? E-coli?” Lily asked desperately.

  “No, no, and no,” Simone replied. “The amounts of harmful materials and bacteria we found in the core and water samples are negligible. On a blind test, I’d have guessed samples this pristine came from the Galápagos rather than half a mile off Florida’s coast. What’s going on, Lily?” Simone asked, the concern plain in her voice.

  Lily closed her eyes and tried to breathe.

  “Lily? Lily? Are you there?”

  “Simone, this is bad. Really bad.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Lily hung up the phone, or tried to. Her hands shook so much, the simple act became a noisy clattering of plastic against plastic.

  “Shit!” she cried furiously, as she finally slammed it down. Jumping off the stool, she stalked across the living room, her hands clenched at her sides. She came to a standstill before the picture windows.

  “John screwed us, didn’t he?” Karen said flatly. She, too, stared down at the storm-tossed waves crashing against one another. “He took the reef samples, dumped them, replaced them with God-knows-what, and shipped them off with a fake, phony smile on his face. He stole my rolls of film. Two rolls, thirty-six exposures, that makes seventy-two photographs that he ripped off. And I let him because I was a trusting, naive fool. I could kill that son of a bitch!” she seethed. “What are we going to do, Lily? We can’t let him get away with this.”

  “He won’t,” Lily said with steely determination. “We’re going to find him. It’s a waste of time to search his apartment—he’ll have cleared it out.”