The Deep End

by Traci Hunter Abramson

  “I’ll do my best,” CJ managed, digging her cap and goggles out of her bag.

  Pete glanced down at his watch and then spoke to CJ. “Let’s get started.” He nodded toward the pool, which was set up long course. He rattled off a warm-up that many swimmers would consider an entire workout. CJ just nodded and jumped into the water.

  Throughout the first two hours, Pete didn’t say anything except to give her the next portion of the workout. He set demanding intervals, and CJ struggled at times to meet his standards. Still, she pushed on, afraid of what might happen if she really did have to go it alone.

  Her legs were still burning from the kick set Pete had given her when he finally squatted down on the deck next to her. “Your hips are too low in the water on your backstroke, and you are overreaching a bit with your left arm.” He then proceeded to explain how he wanted her to correct the problem. Several times, CJ swam one hundred meters of backstroke, and after each one, Pete instructed her to change something else.

  With each criticism, CJ struggled to try to please the coach. She wondered if this exercise was even a productive use of her time, since the 100-meter breaststroke was clearly her best event. Still, not wanting to rock the balance, she continued on. When Pete finally seemed satisfied, he gave her another set of backstroke to reinforce what she had just changed.

  By the time CJ finished her workout, the sun was up, but the campus was still quiet. Her legs felt like jelly when she climbed out of the pool and grabbed her towel. She couldn’t remember being this physically exhausted since she had started training in Philadelphia after being out of the water for several weeks.

  She dried herself off and headed for the locker room to change. When she emerged a few minutes later, she waited hesitantly by the locker room door as Pete spoke with Tara and Lacey. A moment later, Pete turned and walked over to where she was standing.

  “Before we go any further, I need to know one thing.” Pete tapped his clipboard against his free hand. “What is your goal? Do you want to make it to the Olympics, or do you want to medal at the Olympics?”

  “I just want to swim in the Olympics,” CJ replied before she had a chance to think it through.

  “Why?”

  “Why?” CJ looked at him, her eyes widening at the unexpected question. “Swimming at the Olympics is the ultimate achievement. I want to be there, representing my country. I want the chance to compete.”

  “If you want to represent the United States, you owe it to yourself and to your country to be your best when you’re there.” Pete jotted something down on his clipboard before looking back at her. “You have to be willing to work harder than you have ever worked in your life. And you have to be willing to make it through the trials without a taper.”

  “What?” CJ looked at him as though he had lost his mind. “If I don’t go into the trials rested, how am I going to make the team?”

  “You’re going to be better without the rest,” Pete stated simply. “I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t think you had the talent. Now you just have to show me you have the determination. If I’m going to help you get to the games, I expect you to work toward being the best. Whether you win a medal or not, you won’t perform your best unless that’s your ultimate goal.”

  CJ mulled over his words, choosing her own carefully. “I don’t know of a single person I’ve ever swam with that doesn’t dream of stepping up on that Olympic podium and receiving a medal. I guess I just don’t want to be presumptuous in thinking that I’m one of the best in the world.”

  “You have to believe you are the best if you are going to be the best,” Pete insisted. He nodded to where Tara was waiting. “Go home, get something to eat, and get some rest. I want you to ice your shoulders for ten minutes after every practice, and no soda or junk food.”

  “My shoulders aren’t really sore.”

  “They will be by the end of next week. We’re not going to do the work and then have an injury slow you down,” Pete declared. “I’ll see you back here later today.”

  * * *

  From the balcony off the master bedroom, CJ could see the ocean just a few blocks away. Below her, a wide patch of lawn separated the rectangular swimming pool from the waterway just beyond. Wrought-iron fencing spanned the length of the property, and a private dock ran along the outside of the fence. A white speedboat was docked there, swaying in the wake of a passing boat.

  Lush foliage isolated the yard from the houses on either side so that only glimpses of the neighbors’ red-tiled roofs were visible from the second floor. The lots weren’t large, less than a half acre each, but the palm trees and thick shrubbery made this house feel like it was alone on a small island. From where CJ stood, she could see parts of the maze of waterways that allowed the residents of this neighborhood to access the Atlantic Ocean.

  CJ still couldn’t get over the house. After she had returned from practice, she had diligently iced her shoulders and then headed upstairs to take a shower. Barely resisting the urge to relax in the huge bathtub, she had gotten dressed and started to head downstairs, but the view had distracted her. For the first time in days, she felt relaxed.

  Matt would love this house, CJ thought to herself. The unadorned windows invited the outside in, allowing occupants to enjoy the tropics without the oppressive heat and humidity. Determined to explore her temporary home, she glanced around her own room. She had already discovered the TV and DVD player in the armoire, and she hoped to finish unpacking after her midday practice.

  CJ moved into the hallway and headed past the stairs into the upstairs living area. She glanced at the office, noting that it was sleek and functional, containing only a desk and an office chair. She poked her head into one of the bedrooms, finding it completely empty. She walked inside and passed through the Jack-and-Jill bathroom into another bedroom, which was half filled with storage boxes.

  Continuing back into the hallway, CJ noticed another door. Assuming it was a bathroom, she pulled open the door, surprised to find a staircase. Wondering where it led, she climbed down the closeted stairs and found two doors at the bottom. She opened one door that led into the garage. Then she went through the other door and found herself in the kitchen. She closed the door behind her, realizing that she had emerged from what she had thought to be a pantry.

  Tara looked up from the breakfast bar. “Where did you come from?”

  “There.” CJ pointed to the door. “Did you know that door hides a flight of stairs that leads up to the second floor?”

  “Lacey said this house had personality. If you walk into the coat closet, you can pass right through into one of the guest room’s closets.” Tara shook her head. “Personally, if I were Lacey, I would have picked the other room.”

  “This I’ve got to see.” CJ grabbed an apple from a bowl on the counter and headed for the main entrance. Sure enough, when she opened the coat closet, she leaned down and could see the doors of a bedroom closet.

  “I see you’re exploring,” Lacey said as he walked into the entryway. “Come on. I’ll show you this part of the house.”

  Munching on her apple, CJ followed him down the long hall past the game room. His room was the first of two guest suites, with a bathroom off the bedroom. The other guest room was slightly smaller and did not have its own bathroom, but accessed the bathroom off the main hall.

  In the front part of the house, beyond the main staircase, Lacey showed CJ the formal dining room, which was currently empty. Adjoining it was another room that looked suitable for a music room or a formal living room.

  After finishing her tour of the inside of the house, CJ went back into the kitchen to fix something for lunch. The view of the backyard was breathtaking, and she wondered what it would be like to live in a house with a pool. If she wasn’t training for the Olympics, this pool would be the perfect size. It was long enough for swimming laps, and the yard was large enough to support both a swimming pool and a decent sized lawn area.

  CJ found the pantry,
disappointed to find that it contained only three cans of soup, a box of crackers, and a couple of boxes of breakfast cereal. She crossed to the refrigerator and opened it, finding it poorly stocked as well. Though she would have preferred low-fat yogurt with fruit and a sugar-free bran muffin, she settled for a sandwich. She grabbed the pad of paper and pen next to the telephone and started making a basic grocery list while she ate.

  After CJ finished eating, she rummaged through the cabinets, taking inventory of the spices and cooking utensils. She added a number of items to her grocery list, wishing she could have Matt send her a few things from home. Though swim practices had dominated her time in Philadelphia, she’d spent most of her spare time experimenting in the kitchen. Somehow, she didn’t think that Lacey or Tara would go pick up some whole grains and a wheat grinder for her.

  Even as that thought crossed her mind, Tara walked in. “What are you doing?”

  “Making a list.” CJ finished jotting down the spices she wanted and held up the paper. “We need some serious cooking supplies.”

  Tara glanced at her watch. “We still have about two hours before your next practice. Do you want to go shopping now?”

  “You’ll let me come?”

  “Lacey’s done a pretty thorough check of the neighborhood,” Tara replied with a shrug. “Let me go tell him we’re going out.”

  Five minutes later, Tara and CJ were driving through the winding roads, Tara at the wheel. They crossed over the maze of waterways that connected the neighborhood to the Atlantic and a short while later pulled up in front of a grocery store.

  Tara looked at the crowded parking lot and shook her head. “It’s a good thing we decided to come today. If it’s this crowded on a Friday, it’s going to be packed tomorrow.”

  “I keep forgetting that it’s almost the weekend,” CJ admitted, trying not to think about the meet she had hoped to compete in the next day. “That reminds me, where is the closest LDS church?”

  Tara hesitated. “It’s not very far.”

  “If you find out what time the meetings are, I can just slip in late and take the sacrament.”

  “We’ll see what we can do. For now, let’s get this shopping done.” Tara got out of the car, looked back at CJ, and grinned. “You did plan to make lasagna this week, right?”

  “I think you are enjoying this job a little too much.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Chapter 12

  “Do you really think he’s going to show?” Keith Toblin shifted in his seat, staring at the panel of closed-circuit television monitors in front of him. A battery-operated fan stirred the air in the back of the van but did little to take the edge off of the heat.

  Doug checked the audio equipment that tied them in with the undercover agents strategically placed around the swim meet. He put on a lightweight, wireless headset and positioned the microphone before sparing Toblin a brief glance. “I don’t know.”

  “I really hate being in the van.” Toblin tugged at the collar of his shirt.

  “That makes two of us, but it beats staying home,” Doug reminded him. Both of them had worked with CJ long enough that they could easily be connected to her, which meant that neither could risk being out in the open where they might be spotted. Since one of their former colleagues had been on Rush’s payroll, they had to assume that Rush would know who they were and what they looked like.

  Toblin leaned forward, focusing on the monitor that gave the best view of Sherri, the FBI agent doubling for CJ. Sherri was only five years older than CJ, and her youthful appearance helped her look the part of a young Olympic hopeful. The brand-new, ultra-thin body armor she wore beneath her warm-ups was undetectable, barely thicker than a standard swimsuit, and offered her protection in case someone got off a shot.

  Had she reached out her arms, she probably could have touched at least two other members of the undercover team, one working at the clerk of course, helping swimmers line up for their events, and the other dressed as a fellow swimmer. The agent posing as a swimmer had free access to all of the areas of the meet, and the one working at the clerk of course would see every swimmer coming through the meet as well as have a list of everyone who should be there.

  They expected that if something was going to happen, it would happen here at the clerk of course. The clerk was situated in the far corner of the pool area, and a set of bleachers overlooked the clerking area. Sherri made a relatively easy target for a sniper, and the moment she checked in for her first race would be the best opportunity for someone to identify her. Sherri stepped up to the clerk’s table and gave the name of Carly Jarvis, the name CJ had used in Philadelphia. Toblin noticed movement on the edge of the screen just as a voice came over his headset.

  “I think I’ve got something.”

  Doug rolled his chair closer to Toblin, studying the movement on the edge of the monitor. The man wore a lightweight jacket, and he looked like he might be reaching for a weapon holstered in the small of his back. His eyes darted nervously from one person to another.

  “He’s just bait.” Doug shook his head, speaking into his microphone and ordering everyone to maintain their positions.

  He had to give Sherri credit. Even though she could hear everything the agents said through the miniature earpiece she wore, she didn’t hesitate at all. She looked completely at ease as she took a pen and signed in.

  Doug turned to Toblin and spoke his thoughts out loud. “That guy is too small-time. They would send a pro, someone who would be tougher to spot.”

  “I sure hope you’re right.”

  One interminable minute stretched into two as Sherri completed the registration process. She moved away from the table, never glancing at any of the agents blending into the background of the meet.

  “Now what?” Toblin asked. “We thought for sure he would hit here.”

  “If they took the time to dangle bait out in front of us, they must suspect something.” Doug thought for a moment, weighing their options. “Have one of the marshals pick that guy up. If it looks like we only have two or three marshals protecting her, they might just be trying to draw them away, and they’ll try to hit her while the marshals are busy.”

  Toblin nodded and relayed instructions to the various team members. Doug already had the meet schedule out to determine when Sherri would become a viable target once again.

  “He’s going to go for her when she’s on the blocks,” Toblin said, studying the monitors viewing the pool. “He will know that she isn’t wearing any body armor when she steps up there in just a swimsuit.”

  “Get CJ on the phone for me.” Doug handed his cell phone to Toblin as he tried to play out a scene that would look realistic without endangering CJ’s double.

  Toblin dialed CJ’s cell phone number. When she didn’t answer, he dialed Tara’s number. The phone rang only twice before Tara answered. “It’s Toblin,” he said. “Doug needs to talk to CJ.”

  Several seconds passed before CJ came on the phone, and Keith passed the phone to Doug.

  “I need some info,” Doug explained quickly. “Would I be able to buy one of those full body suits here at the meet?”

  “A Fastskin?” CJ queried. “Yeah, there are probably a couple of vendors around the meet somewhere. Why?”

  “We think our guy’s going to take a shot when your double steps up onto the starting block. I need to make sure she can still wear her body armor.”

  “Doug, there’s no way. Those things take at least a half hour to put on even if you could find one the right size. Besides, they’re so tight they show everything.”

  “We’re going to have to scrub this if he doesn’t take a shot before then,” Doug replied, regret lacing his voice. “I can’t let her go out unprotected.”

  “Have her declare a false start. That way she can keep her warm-ups on,” CJ suggested. She then described the process.

  “That might work.” Doug nodded, his focus already shifting back to the monitor. “I’ll talk to you later.” />
  Doug spoke into his microphone. “Sherri, I want you to go to the blocks like you’re going to swim. Try to look a little nervous. It’ll make it more believable.”

  Aware that Sherri couldn’t answer him, he continued, “If nothing happens before you’re supposed to step up, declare a false start. Whatever you do, don’t take off your warm-ups.”

  On screen, Doug could see the subtle nod of acknowledgement. He considered himself beyond lucky that Sherri had been a competitive swimmer as a teenager and understood the terminology. He wasn’t sure he would be able to explain to her what a declared false start was, much less how to initiate one.

  Doug ignored the monitor where two of the marshals were questioning the man who had raised suspicions earlier. Instead he watched the bleacher areas that would provide the best line of fire to the starting end of the pool. His analysis took only seconds, and he turned to Toblin.

  “Hand me the schematics for the building.” Doug reached out his hand, knowing that Toblin would give him what he requested in a matter of seconds.

  Toblin didn’t disappoint him. “What are we looking for?”

  “The bleachers don’t provide a clear line of fire, at least not without a dozen witnesses.” Doug spread the schematics out on the narrow console in front of him. “Our shooter has to have gained access somewhere else.”

  Toblin leaned over to study the layout with him, pointing at the clerk’s area. “She checked in here, and then the swimmers will walk along there to the starting end of the pool.”

  “If someone takes a shot at her as they are walking out to the blocks, the best shot would be from here.” Doug tapped his finger on an alcove near the lifeguard office. “But that is still in plain sight, and there aren’t any exits nearby.”

  “There has to be someplace where a shooter would be able to get a clear shot and then be able to get out of sight quickly.”

  Doug stood up, studying the monitors in front of him. He scanned the area on the far side of the pool three times before he realized what he was overlooking. “The lifeguards.”