Terrors of the High Seas - DK6 (4 page)

Dar was getting the boat ready for the next leg of their vacation, so Kerry had volunteered to make the short run up to the nearest Wal-Mart for a few things they’d realized they’d forgotten.

Dar had laughed and accused her of just making an excuse to take the bike out, but since she liked to ride it as much as Kerry did, the accusation was specious at best.

“Vroom, vroom.” Kerry glanced down at the Honda Shadow Spirit, then quickly focused her eyes back on the road.

Since there wasn’t much traffic down there, they’d decided to purchase the bike for local errands, especially since they usually arrived by water. It had taken a few weeks’ practice, but Kerry was really enjoying the bike. There was a sense of wildness attached to it that she found appealing, and she always felt a little rebellious when she took the motorcycle out.

Kerry passed through the quiet, empty stretch of scrub and trees, completely alone on the road. The peacefulness appealed to her, reminding her just a little of some of the areas near where she’d been born, where one could drive for an hour or so and not see any habitation around them.

She idly imagined driving the cycle down her street and pulling into her parents’ driveway, then had to stop when she almost lost control of the darn thing while laughing. “And they thought a Mustang was bad.”

After another few minutes, she was entering civilization again, a cluster of buildings and crossroads that were fairly new in appearance. She pulled into a left-turn lane, then swept through the green light into the parking lot of the twenty-four-hour Wal-Mart.

There were several cars there already, but Kerry pulled up to the very front and smoothly stopped, nudging the kickstand down 18
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and securing the bike as she dismounted. She pulled off her helmet and ran her fingers through her hair, then strapped the helmet to the back seat. A brief glance at her reflection in the front store windows made her grin. “Kerrison Stuart, biker chick.” She shook her head. “No one in my family would believe
this
.”

An advertisement posted on the window caught her eye. The blonde brow reflected over it quirked. Squaring her shoulders, she confronted the door and pushed her way through it.

DAR WALKED AROUND the boat, making a last minute inspection before they cast off. She was wearing her swimsuit, with a pair of cotton surfer shorts and a bright blue T-shirt over it. She tucked her hair up under a baseball cap and poked her head inside the diesel chamber, checking the engines with a knowledgeable eye.

Satisfied, she pulled herself slowly up the ladder to the bridge, favoring the shoulder she’d hurt not long before.

It annoyed her that the shoulder still bothered her, but not enough for her to break down and go back to the therapist. She was slowly getting back her normal range of motion, and she figured maybe the long week of swimming and relaxing might do the trick so she could finally put the injury behind her.

Dar checked the global positioning system and the radio, then spent a moment with her eyes closed going over the safety equipment she had on board. She wasn’t paranoid, but this was the first time she was taking the boat across wide-open water and if anyone knew how much respect the sea was due, this sailor’s kid surely did.

Satisfied with her preparations, Dar nodded.
Okay.
She climbed back down the ladder and dusted off her hands, then spotted motion near the cabin and walked to the side of the boat, peering around the pylon. A tall, husky man in a police uniform was walking toward her, and for a chilling moment she thought about Kerry heading out on the bike. Watching his face intently as the man came closer, she leapt ashore.

“Help you with something?” she asked as he came to a halt.

He had sandy hair and a moderately good-looking face. “Well, maybe.” He glanced at a small notepad. “Would you be a Ms.

Roberts?”

“Yes.” Dar heard her own voice come out clipped and no-nonsense.

It didn’t seem to faze him. He nodded and tucked the notepad away. “Old Bill Vickerson told me I might find you here. Had a little dust-up by his place last night, didn’cha?”

Dar relaxed, confident at least that whatever this was, it didn’t involve Kerry. “Something like that.” She didn’t see much point in
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denying it and wondered briefly if her temper had gotten her into something very inconveniently sticky this time. “What’s this all about, Officer…Brewer?”

The police officer studied her. “Fella you whumped up on was my little brother.”

Oh boy
. Dar put years of boardroom practice into effect, and merely raised an eyebrow. “And?”

For a minute, Officer Brewer chewed the toothpick he had in his mouth, then he chuckled. “You’re a cool one, aren’t you?” he commented. “City lady like you, here by yourself in the boonies, faced with a cop with a family reason to slap cuffs on ya.”

Dar snorted, chuckling dryly.

Now his eyebrows lifted. “No dice, huh?” He waited a moment, then chuckled as well. “Cool customer, that’s for sure.”

Unexpectedly, he held out a hand. “Ms. Roberts, you done me a good deed, and I wanted to say thanks.”

Knocked a little off balance, Dar nevertheless took the hand and returned the strong grip with one of her own. “I’m not really sure I understand,” she admitted, “but it beats handcuffs.”

The police officer gave her a wry grin. “My brother’s a jackass,” he said straightforwardly. “D’you know what kind of a pain in my butt it is to have to arrest family? I done it six times now. Kid never learns.”

“Ah.” Dar nodded slightly.

“Bunch of his deadbeat friends went looking for trouble up near Big Pine last night, racing and shooting at each other. They ran their asses off the road and wrapped themselves ’round a tree,”

the policeman said. “We took four body bags full of burnt parts to the morgue.”

Dar winced.

“Woulda been five,” Officer Brewer said. “But because my jackass brother was nursing a sore jaw and a lump on his nuts, his sorry ass lived to get me in yet more trouble.” The man sighed. “So, thanks, Ms. City Slicker Computer Big Shot. I owe you one.”

It took a moment to sort out the various sentiments, but Dar eventually decided things had turned out well. “Don’t mention it.”

A rumble caught their attention, and the policeman turned as a motorcycle and rider came right up the side path and practically onto the dock before it rolled to a halt and the rider jumped off.

The cycle came to rest on its kickstand as Kerry pulled off her helmet and strode towards them, her boots sounding loud on the wooden planks.

“Well now,” Officer Brewer studied the oncoming woman,

“what do we got here? You travel with one of them radical, liberal, revolutionary types?”

“What?” Kerry stopped, took off her sunglasses, and regarded 20
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him. “I’m a Republican, thank you very much.” She snorted and turned her attention to Dar. “What’s going on?”

Dar gazed fondly at her. “Officer Brewer just stopped by to welcome us to the neighborhood.”

“Oh.” Kerry relaxed and gave the officer one of her more charming smiles. “That’s really nice of you. Thanks.”

Brewster chuckled. “Well, I won’t keep you ladies. Have yourself a nice trip, y’hear?” He turned and walked off the dock, circled the motorcycle, and paused to admire it. Then he kept going down the path and out of sight.

Kerry watched him go, then turned. “Welcome Wagon at seven a.m.?”

Dar put an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get loaded up and get out of here before the town mothers show up with cookies.”

She walked Kerry over to the bike. “I’ll tell you the rest when we get out of the dock.”

“Uh oh.” Kerry lifted her packages off the vehicle and hefted them. “I’ll get this on board if you want to stash the bike, then we’re outta here.”

Dar poked her finger at a bag. “Are those what I think they are?”

“Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.” Kerry shooed her.

“C’mon. I hear stingrays calling my name.” She made her way down the dock to the boat, hopped on board, and disappeared.

Dar reviewed the start of her day and decided it augured well for a far more peaceful end to it.
Good thing
, she chuckled to herself, as she pushed the motorcycle into the small garage and securely locked it. Her plans for the evening definitely would not tolerate any interruption.

She checked the doors to the cabin one last time, then set the alarm and walked back to the boat. She released the front line, then the rear one, and tossed them onboard, jumping on as the boat started to drift slightly in the outgoing tide.

The breeze was rising as Dar started up the engines and slowly reversed them away from the harbor, making sure she was well out before she nudged the throttles into forward and swung the bow around, pointing it out toward the endless blue horizon. She settled her bare feet against the console and gave the engines gas, feeling the surge of power as they headed outbound.

KERRY LET HERSELF drift on the slight underwater current, watching the slanting rays of the sun filter down and touch the reef over which she was swimming. A small school of bright blue and yellow fish went sweeping by, wheeling and pausing for some unknown fish reason but giving her an excellent photo opportunity, which she took immediate advantage of.

The pale sand and darker coral outlined the colorful fish as they swirled around her, leaving her behind as they found another patch of ground to explore. Kerry watched them swim off, then rolled over onto her back and relaxed in the light green sea as she examined the reef for more wildlife.

One thing that had always surprised her was how noisy it was underwater. In a pool or in the lakes of her birthplace, the sounds were absent or muted. But here in the ocean, nearly everything made a racket. Lobsters and other crustaceans clicked against the coral, shells tumbled in the underwater current, rattling along, even the sand made a swishing sound as it was moved.

Their regulators were the loudest, though. The bubbles created a low rumbling sound, and each intake of breath brought to mind the rasping of Darth Vader.

Kerry exchanged her regulator mouthpiece for the smaller one clipped to her vest and took a sip of water, rinsing it around her mouth before she swallowed, then replaced her regulator and took a breath. A clown fish approached her warily, inspecting the edge of her fin before it darted off. Then a tiny cuttlefish, almost transparent, floated in front of her mask, its fins almost brushing her nose. Her eyes focused on it, a structure so intricate it seemed like the finest blown glass.

The perfection of the universe brought its own awe, Kerry had found, and its own peace.

A soft knocking caught her attention and she looked around, spotting Dar hovering over a coral outcropping nearby, gesturing her over. She flipped lazily to horizontal and flexed her thighs, waggling her fins to propel herself through the water. Dar reached out and snagged a strap on Kerry’s buoyancy compensator vest as 22
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she neared.

Kerry drifted, looking where her partner was pointing.

“Oomfp.” The sound of surprise came out around a burst of bubbles. A large sea turtle was huddled behind the rock, watching them warily. A piece of seaweed hung out of its mouth and swayed in the current, and Kerry quickly brought up her camera and focused it. Just as she opened the shutter, the animal released the seaweed, poking its tongue out at Kerry as it was captured on film.

She heard the faint sound of Dar laughing as she drifted back, and they watched the turtle return to its feeding. Then Dar checked her dive computer and pointed at the time on it.

Kerry nodded in understanding. It was a shallow dive; if she looked up, the boat would only be twenty feet or so above her head.

But it was their second dive of the day, and she knew Dar preferred to stay on the cautious side when it came to bottom time. She covered the lens on her camera and clipped it to its holders on her vest, then followed Dar toward the anchor line of the boat.

Out of long habit, they paused at ten feet, where the wave action overhead started to make itself felt. The seas were fairly calm, but there was enough of a chop to keep the boat at a steady rock, and Kerry could see the dive ladder moving up and down at the back of the stern.

Like flying a plane, where the takeoffs and landings were the trickiest, in diving it was getting in and out of the water that usually presented the most difficulty. Once you were in and down, things were usually a breeze. Kerry watched Dar release her grip on the anchor line and head for the ladder, her hands reaching down to remove her fins as she approached it. She waited for her partner to grab the moving ladder and toss the fins up out of the water with her other hand before she let go of the line herself and followed.

Dar waited for the stern to dip down so she could get her feet on the bottom step of the ladder, then she reached up to the upper rung and hung on, letting the wave action pick her right up out of the water and into the late afternoon sunlight. She stepped up into the boat and shucked her tank and vest, clipping them to holders before she turned around and reached down to grab the back of Kerry’s air tank as she emerged from the sea.

Kerry was no weakling, but pulling one’s self and forty pounds of equipment out of the water onto a pitching boat after a long day’s diving was a lot to ask, and Dar saw the quick look of appreciation she got as she pulled her partner on board. “Here, give me that.” She reached over and unsnapped the catches that held the vest across Kerry’s chest and loosened the inner waist strap as she removed the tank.

“Ugh. Thanks.” Kerry pulled off her mask and scrubbed her
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hand over her face. She could taste salt and the rubber from her regulator on her tongue, and what she really wanted was…
Ah
. “I love you.” Her hand closed around the plastic bottle of Gatorade as she loosened her weight belt and let it drop to the deck.