The Deep End

by Traci Hunter Abramson

  “You too,” the girl called after her, unaware that CJ was already finished.

  Chapter 4

  Doug Valdez crossed the street to his office building, a bottle of orange juice in one hand and a bagel in the other. Only a year ago he would have skipped breakfast, opting instead for a cup of coffee. Now he had to function at the break of dawn without the aid of caffeine. He still wasn’t sure how this whole transformation had happened.

  It was all Jill’s fault. He never would have started reading the Book of Mormon had it not been for her. Well, perhaps CJ shared in the blame—or the credit, as the case may be. He had seen enough divine intervention in her life to wonder about the Latter-day Saints and their religion. In fact, he had been in the middle of one of CJ’s miracles when he realized that he too had started relying on the Lord’s help and guidance.

  Doug took a sip of orange juice as he entered the elevator, thinking of the expressions on his parents’ faces when he had told them he was getting baptized into the Church. To say that they were completely shocked was definitely an understatement. Still, they had attended his baptism, and just a few months ago his sister had commented on how much happier he seemed since meeting Jill.

  Sighing in resignation, Doug decided he was going to have to thank CJ one of these days. If he hadn’t been assigned to her, he wouldn’t have met Jill or started investigating the Church. He could hardly believe that he was only a few months away from getting married in the temple—definitely not an aspiration he had ever expected to have. Now he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more.

  His transfer to Miami had come earlier than he would have liked, separating him and Jill for the last few months before their wedding. He just kept reminding himself that in a couple of months, it would all be worth it.

  Phones rang and the scent of coffee lingered when Doug entered the FBI’s Miami office. The far wall of the large office was lined with huge windows, and partitions divided the room up into cubicles to afford some privacy.

  He sat down at his desk and glanced at his watch for the third time in less than ten minutes. In just three more hours, his fiancée would arrive from Texas to spend a week house hunting with him. The details for their wedding seemed to be endless, and Doug found that the only good thing about being transferred to Miami before their wedding was that it got him out of helping make all of those insignificant decisions. He didn’t want to tell Jill that he thought the color of her bridesmaids’ dresses was irrelevant. At this point all he wanted was to actually be married to her so that they could start their life together.

  A schoolteacher, Jill planned to finish out the school year with her second-grade class, which prevented her from moving to Miami before the wedding, as Doug had hoped she would. She had also pointed out how difficult it would be to plan a wedding in Texas if she was living in Florida.

  Before Doug could check his watch again, the phone rang. When he picked it up, the receptionist blurted out, “You have a visitor in the reception area,” then hung up without telling him the person’s name. Doug walked to the lobby, surprised to see Tara Baldino, one of the U.S. Marshals intermittently assigned to protect CJ over the last two years.

  “Is there someplace we can talk privately?” Tara asked before Doug had a chance to greet her.

  “Yeah, come on into the conference room.” Doug led her down the hall and opened a heavy door.

  Tara passed through the door and sat down in one of the chairs surrounding the mahogany table. She slid a file folder across the table as Doug took a seat.

  “What’s going on?”

  “It looks like CJ is now our only witness.”

  “What?” Panic crept up Doug’s spine as he flipped open the file. The top sheet outlined the death of Tom Miller—a.k.a. Leonard Abbott—in a scuba-diving accident.

  “What was Abbott doing in Aruba?”

  “Apparently he won some free trip down there. He went out scuba diving with a bunch of other tourists. The instructor said that Miller strayed off by himself, and when he tried to get him to rejoin the group, Miller panicked and surfaced too fast. By the time they got him to the hospital, he was already dead.”

  “Where was his protection?” Doug asked, flipping through the file.

  “Abbott never told us he was going on a vacation, so we didn’t know anything about it until we went in for a routine check of his cover.”

  “His wife didn’t tell you what happened?”

  “She didn’t even think of it.” Tara shook her head with disbelief. “When we went in for the cover check, she was already packing up and getting ready to move. She said she didn’t have our number, and she didn’t want to live in Boise anymore.”

  “You have got to be kidding me.” Doug shook his head and pushed back from the table. He paced across the room, raking his fingers through his short, dark hair. “Leonard Abbott, the guy who’s afraid of his own shadow, picks up and goes on vacation without a word to anyone?”

  “Apparently so.” Tara leaned back in her chair while Doug absorbed the new information. “His wife said that they used to go on vacations every year so that he could go scuba diving and she could spend time with the kids at the beach. I guess he figured he’d had enough of Boise for the winter and decided to take the free vacation when it came his way.”

  “Doesn’t that sound a little odd, that he would just happen to win a trip for the kind of vacation he always used to take?” Doug asked. “And that an experienced diver would surface too fast?” Doug hesitated for a moment and then asked, “Did he still have air in his tank?”

  “The air level on the tank was about the same as everyone else’s who had gone on the dive with him. They all started with full tanks, and they all had over an hour’s worth of air left.” Tara pushed back from the table and stood. “Look, Doug. There’s no evidence of foul play, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t any. I think we have to assume that somehow Rush’s men found Abbott. For all we know, CJ is next.”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “Not if we can help it,” Tara amended.

  “How soon can you be in Philadelphia?” Doug asked.

  “I fly out in an hour.” Tara reached into her purse and pulled out a thick envelope. “I’ve got something for you. Consider it an early wedding present.”

  Doug opened the envelope and pulled out two tickets to Aruba, one for him and one for Jill.

  Tara walked to the door and glanced over her shoulder at Doug. “I thought we might feel better if someone took a closer look. I didn’t think your fiancée would mind a few days on the beach.”

  A smile crossed Doug’s face. “I think I can talk her into it.”

  * * *

  Doug stood by a window in the airport, relieved to see that Jill’s plane had finally made it to the gate. The flight was only ten minutes late, but the window of time they had to retrieve Jill’s luggage and then check in for their flight to Aruba was already tight. Anticipating that Jill wouldn’t have time to eat before their next flight—the flight she didn’t know about yet—Doug held a pizza in one hand and a water bottle in the other.

  The waiting area near the gate was empty except for the airline employee waiting to assist the passengers. Doug had used his FBI credentials to pass through security, and he now moved closer to where Jill would exit the plane.

  The door finally opened. The first people off the plane were the first-class passengers—businessmen walking with obvious destinations in mind and schedules to keep. A mix of families and tourists came next, blending in with those that were harder to categorize.

  Doug watched more than a hundred passengers deplane before he finally caught a glimpse of Jill. She was tall and slender, and her cap of blond hair was cropped short, a fringe of bangs falling over a face that many thought should grace the covers of magazines. The woman in front of her had a baby in her arms. Doug wasn’t surprised to see Jill holding hands with the woman’s other two children, a little boy of about five and a curly-haired girl w
ho carried a stuffed dog that was nearly as big as she was.

  Not expecting to see him at the gate, Jill didn’t even look up, instead talking to the little girl as they walked into the waiting area. Her eyes widened when Doug moved forward into her view.

  “I see you’re making new friends again.” Doug grinned, moving forward to kiss her on the cheek.

  “Tyler and Emily were keeping me company,” Jill explained before turning them back over to their mother. The woman thanked Jill for her help before being swept away by the crowd. Jill turned back toward Doug, spotting the pizza he held.

  “Is that for me?” Jill asked, falling into step with Doug as they moved toward the baggage claim.

  “I thought you might be hungry, and it will be a while until we get a chance to eat again.” Doug handed her the pizza and took her by the arm, guiding her through the crowd.

  Jill trotted along, barely able to keep up with his pace. “Are we in a hurry?”

  “Actually, yes,” Doug said as he sidestepped a woman pushing a stroller. “I’m afraid we have a pretty tight schedule today.” Before she could answer, he added, “Do you have your passport with you?”

  Jill’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, I was going to ask you about that. Someone from your office called and told me to bring my passport with me. Why do I need a passport in Miami?”

  “Actually, she wasn’t from my office. She was just helping me out with something.”

  They stepped onto the escalator that led down to the baggage claim area. “Doug, what’s going on?”

  “I have a little business I need to take care of, and I thought you wouldn’t mind tagging along.”

  “As long as you promise I won’t get shot at.”

  “If I thought that was a possibility, I wouldn’t invite you,” Doug said wryly.

  Jill shrugged her shoulders and tried to look serious, but her voice was full of fun when she spoke. “I’m just making sure. After you made me learn to shoot your gun, I thought maybe you were trying to recruit me.”

  “Very funny.” Doug shook his head, fighting back a grin. “Actually, we’re going on a little trip. We should have just enough time to transfer your luggage over before we board.”

  “What?” Jill stepped off at the bottom of the escalator, moving out of the way of other travelers and stopping. She motioned for Doug to do the same.

  Anticipating her next question, Doug handed her the tickets. He watched her expression change as she read their destination. “I need to do a little poking around down there for a day or two, but we should still have plenty of time to hang out on the beach, maybe go snorkeling.”

  “Are you serious?” Jill’s eyes lit up. “You’re taking me to Aruba for the weekend?”

  “You don’t mind, do you?” Doug asked playfully.

  Jill’s laughter rang out. “Let’s just hurry up and get my bags.”

  * * *

  Nearly a week had passed since CJ’s swim meet, and the tension at practice continued to grow. Several of their teammates had noticed Bridget’s response to CJ at the meet the weekend before, and rumors buzzed in the locker room for days about the friction between the two of them. Unfortunately, the odd behavior from her coach also continued.

  Similar to his behavior during the few days before the meet, Aaron made few specific suggestions about CJ’s strokes, almost as if he were afraid to be seen talking to her. The two times CJ had tried to talk to him about the meet scheduled for the following week, he had made quick excuses and left her wondering what she should do. She had not even been able to verify if the coach was going to enter her in the meet.

  As Friday afternoon practice came to an end, CJ climbed out of the pool and grabbed her towel. She dried off her face, looked up, and froze. Tara Baldino, U.S. Marshal, stood in front of her. CJ forced herself to take a deep breath. Why is Tara here? Has something happened? Is something bad going to happen? A myriad of thoughts raced through CJ’s mind in what seemed like only a split second.

  Stepping forward, Tara put a hand on her shoulder. “I was in the neighborhood. I thought we could go grab a bite to eat together, maybe go catch the Phillies game.”

  “Sure.” CJ tried to sound casual. “Do I have time to shower and change?”

  Tara nodded, an unspoken message passing between them. “Take your time.”

  When CJ walked out of the building a few minutes later, Tara motioned to a car parked nearby. “Let’s take my car. We can pick yours up on the way home.”

  Still curious, CJ slid into the passenger’s seat, anxiously awaiting the privacy the car would give them. As soon as Tara started up the engine, she turned to CJ.

  “We don’t think anything is wrong—I’m just here to make sure.”

  “What happened?” CJ asked. When Tara turned to look at her, CJ added, “I’ve been under for too long not to know that U.S. Marshals don’t just show up on your doorstep without a reason.”

  Tara took a deep breath. “Leonard Abbott is dead.”

  “What?” CJ asked, her eyes widening. “How?”

  “It looks like a scuba diving accident.”

  “Looks like . . .” CJ keyed in on her words. “You aren’t convinced.”

  “Doug is headed down to Aruba to look into it more closely.” Tara shrugged. “For all we know, it was an accident. But regardless of how it happened, the result is the same. You are back to being our only witness against Rush.”

  “Wonderful,” CJ sighed. “So you’re here just in case it wasn’t an accident.”

  “Basically,” Tara agreed. “We’ll give Doug a couple of days to poke around and see if there’s anything suspicious before we decide what to do next.”

  “I thought Jill was visiting him this week to go house hunting,” CJ commented, thinking that her former roommate was not going to be pleased if she flew to Miami only to have her fiancé fly out.

  “She’s going along with him.” Tara winked at her. “I thought it was the least I could do since her plans were interrupted.”

  “A trip to the sun and sand,” CJ laughed. “I think she’ll forgive the interruption.”

  Tara motioned to a strip of restaurants. “Did you want to go grab something to eat?”

  “You do realize that the Phillies are on a road trip.”

  Tara nodded.

  “In that case, how about heading back to my place and ordering some pizza?” CJ suggested. “I’m sure you’re going to want to check out my building anyway.”

  “We already have,” Tara laughed. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to stay with you until Matt gets back, and Mark Lacey will be in a hotel down the street.”

  “Where is Lacey?” CJ asked.

  “He’s checking out your car, just to be on the safe side. As soon as it’s clear, he’ll drive it back here for you,” Tara informed her. “Now for the more important issue, what kind of pizza are we ordering?”

  CJ laughed as she and Tara debated for several minutes whether or not onions actually belonged on pizza and about the health issues surrounding processed meats. Forty-five minutes later, they were both stretched out in front of the television watching the Phillies game, CJ working her way through a second piece of extra-boring cheese pizza, and Tara munching on a slice of meat lover’s.

  “Are you all set for the meet next weekend?” Tara asked after finishing off three slices.

  “I don’t know. My coach won’t talk to me about it, and the way he was talking last week, I don’t think he’s even going to put me in my two main events,” CJ said. She proceeded to explain the events of the past two weeks, including the problems she suspected came from the competition she was now giving Bridget.

  “These opportunities don’t come around often enough for you to sit them out,” Tara replied. “I think we may have to just pull a few strings and get you into the right events.”

  “If I show up for the meet and my coach sees me swimming in the 100 breaststroke and the 200 IM, he’ll just go in and scratch me from them.”
/>   “Then you have to quit this team before next weekend.”

  “Tara, do you have any idea what that means? I’m not going to be able to find another coach only three months before the Olympic trials.”

  Tara turned and looked her in the eye. “What are the chances that this coach is going to help you get to the Olympics?”

  CJ sighed. “About one in a million.”

  “Then you don’t have anything to lose.”

  * * *

  The pool on the Penn State campus was nearly empty when CJ walked inside the building. She didn’t know how the marshals had obtained a school ID for her so quickly, but she had stopped asking those kinds of questions months ago. Tara followed her into the pool area and pointed to a nearby chair. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

  CJ nodded, dropping her swim bag by the side of the pool. After donning her cap and goggles, she dove into the pool and began her warm-up. She had drafted her own workouts for the next week, but she was still praying that Doug or Tara would be able to find her a new coach.

  Basic workouts she could do; tapering workouts she couldn’t. The practice of tapering was widely used in swimming, pounding out difficult yards and pushing an athlete to the brink of exhaustion, then resting that athlete to bring out peak performance. How could CJ possibly determine her own limits? Tapering was something only done once or twice a year and was definitely not something that she knew how to do on her own.

  Quitting her team had been less painful than she expected. Although CJ had imagined a confrontation with Aaron, Tara had eliminated that possibility by writing him a letter. In a straightforward and tactful manner, Tara explained that CJ planned to take more control of her competitive swimming career. CJ had signed the letter with a sigh of relief.

  After completing a long warm-up, CJ pulled a kickboard and fins out of her bag. She slipped the short fins on her feet and started across the pool with the kickboard in front of her. She noticed a lap swimmer a few lanes over and wondered how crowded the pool would be during her afternoon practice.