Dangerous Depths (20 page)

“Don’t say it, Chief.”

“She’s not going to make it, Hannah.”

“Noooooo,” I wailed. “No, it can’t be. Please
God, don’t let that be.” My legs gave out and I felt my body
crumple. Dunn grabbed me right before I hit the pavement. I could
hear myself keening, one part of me assessing the whole thing,
trying to remove myself from this horrible pain.

“God, don’t let it be, don’t let it be,” I
cried, over and over.

Dunn was holding me, rocking with me, the
pain so overwhelming I wanted to die. I don’t know how long he held
me there, my face buried in his chest, his shirt drenched in my
tears.

Finally, it ended. I had nothing left. I was
exhausted and numb. Dunn pulled me to my feet, guided me to the
car, and helped me into the passenger seat. The ride to the
hospital was a blur. The next thing I knew we were sitting in the
lot and I was staring blankly out the window.

“Come on, Hannah. You need to try to pull
yourself together. The doc said there’s a chance Elyse will regain
consciousness for a minute or two.”

Elyse’s room was dim when I walked in, just a
soft light glowing in the corner. All the life support had been
removed, abandoned in the corner. She lay quietly, eyes closed.
Mary was sitting beside her and rose when she saw me. We embraced
and I tried to swallow the pain only to have it came out in gasps
that turned to choking cries.

Mary didn’t say anything, just led me to a
chair. We sat together in the room, the minutes ticking by. Every
once in a while, a nurse opened the door a crack and glanced in,
then closed it quietly, leaving us to our painful vigil. Mary sat
on one side of the bed. I was sitting on the other side, holding
Elyse’s hand, my head resting on the mattress, when I felt the
gentle pressure of her fingers wrap around mine.

I sat up, immediately alert. Elyse was
looking right at me; her soft eyes had a light in them I’d never
seen before. She turned and smiled at Mary and back at me. Then she
squeezed my hand, and died.

I dropped my head onto the bed and sobbed. I
didn’t care who saw or heard.

Finally, Mary put her arm around my
shoulders. “Come on, Hannah, she’s somewhere else now.”

We walked out of the room together. O’Brien,
Stark, Dunn, and Snyder were all waiting in the hall. I didn’t want
to face them, share my pain. I could see their awkwardness and
discomfort. Each of them was suffering and each of them knew there
was absolutely nothing to be said. Then O’Brien came to me and
wrapped me in his arms. I folded into him and buried my head in his
chest.

“Come on, Hannah. Hall wants you to stay here
tonight. You’re hurt and exhausted.”

I didn’t have it in me to protest. I needed
someone else to tell me what to do next. Otherwise, I would have
ended up staring at a wall in the waiting room all night or
wandering around Road Town in a daze.

A nurse led me to a room, handed me a
hospital gown, and left. I stood in the dark room, the gown draped
over my arm, trying to think about what to do next. Slowly, I
pulled off my clothes, hardly aware of the damage I’d incurred
fighting with Elyse’s killer, still out there somewhere. I didn’t
have the energy for anger.

Finally, I went into the bathroom, turned on
the shower, and stepped in. The hot stream pounded my body, the
burns, the bruises, but I was grateful for it because the physical
pain distracted me for a moment—until I thought about Elyse just
down the hall. I curled in, wrapped my arms around myself, sobbing
into my belly as the water splattered across my back. I watched it
swirl down the drain mixed with dirt and a tinge of my blood.

I was sitting on the bed when Hall came in,
clipboard in hand. He sat beside me until I finally found the
courage to ask how Elyse died.

“Elyse was injected with what was probably
potassium chloride. There was nothing that anyone could do to save
her.”

I realized that if I hadn’t been in the room
and seen the murderer, her death would have been determined to be
an unexpected complication from the brain injury and in the end
ruled accidental.

I didn’t find any comfort in the thought that
I’d been there to verify the murder. I’d failed Elyse. If only I’d
been able to stop the guy. I knew he’d done his work after he’d
knocked me out, pushing the liquid into her vein as I lay nearby,
stunned. If only I’d been quicker, stronger, more alert. My life
seemed to be full of “if only’s”, mistakes, and death.

“You’re on the verge of shock, Hannah. I want
you to stay for the rest of the night. The nurse will be in to tend
to your head wound. It’s superficial. You need sleep above anything
else.”

He gave me some pills which I swallowed
without protest. I was only vaguely aware of O’Brien coming in.
Then nothing.

***

When I woke, the sun was shining through the
open window and I could hear birds twittering in a nearby tree. A
glorious day. Then recollection took hold. I buried my head in the
pillow, trying to push it all away, find relief back in unconscious
sleep.

I was prevented the escape by a nurse who
came in with a stethoscope dangling around her neck. “You’re awake.
Good. I’ll take your vitals and then you can have some breakfast.
It’s almost ten.

The last thing I wanted was breakfast. The
woman took my blood pressure and pulse as she talked. “Peter
O’Brien just left. The man spent all night sleeping in that chair.
He went home to shower only after I promised that if you woke up,
I’d keep an eye on you, until he got back.” She went on and on
about what a wonderful man he was and how sorry she was that my
friend had died, and how God had his reasons. I wanted to slap
her.

She left and returned a minute later with a
tray. Propping the pillows up she placed it across my lap. “I’ll be
back to check on you in a little while,” she said, closing the
door.

I took one look at the stuff on the tray and
nearly lost it. Christ, I needed to get out of there. I moved the
tray to the end of the bed, swung my legs over the side, and stood.
Just a little tipsy, probably from the sedative that had put me out
last night. I waited for the room to stabilize, found my dirty
clothes still on the floor in the bathroom, and pulled them on,
though they were stiff with dirt.

I swigged the coffee on the tray—probably
decaf— and then got the hell out of there. At the curb in front, I
found a cab. I wanted to go home to the
Sea Bird
and Sadie,
bury my face in her fur and hear the water lapping at the side of
the boat.

When I got to the marina, no one was around.
I was relieved that I didn’t have to see Calvin, Tilda, or the
girls. The last thing the girls needed was to see me in the shape I
was in right now. I needed to be alone.

Sadie was waiting at the end of the dock,
stock-still except for her tail sweeping back and forth. I knelt
and draped my arms around her, stifling sobs. She nuzzled her nose
under my chin and whined.

“Come on, girl. Let’s get out of here.” I
stepped aboard the
Sea Bird
, started the engine, freed her
from the dock and headed out of the bay and into open water
ignoring the throbbing in my temples. Once past the reef and
shallows, I managed to raise the mainsail, set my course with the
wind off the beam, and cut the engine. Then I hauled out the jib
and let the wind take us.

I sat behind the wheel and breathed in the
warm sea air, felt the sun penetrate my body, and tried to find
some comfort. A couple hours later, I was pulling in the sails at
the secluded little harbor on Norman Island where O’Brien and I had
gone skinny-dipping. It was too small for more than one boat and
only a few locals ever anchored here. It wasn’t even labeled on the
charts. This was one of the few places I was almost guaranteed
privacy.

I dropped the anchor and allowed the wind to
carry the boat back as I let out enough chain to hold her. Then I
put the engine in reverse and gave a tug to set the anchor firmly
in the sand. I wasn’t going anywhere—not tonight.

All the activity had kept me from thinking.
But now I could feel the catch in my throat, the stinging in my
eyes. I went up to the bow, left my dirty clothes in a heap on the
deck, and dove into the water, the rush of bubbles and foam
sweeping down my body. Sadie was right beside me as I headed to
shore. I swam hard, stretching my arms out, kicking sea water high
into the air, and welcoming the sting of salt in my wounds and the
strain on bruised muscles. By the time I got to shore, I was
breathless. I sat on the beach, watching the
Sea Bird
rock
gently in the water as Sadie occupied herself chasing ghost crabs
into their burrows.

I didn’t want to think. I stood, ran back
into the sea and plunged under the surface. I wanted to stay down
in the peace of the underwater world, but buoyancy forced me off
the bottom. I bobbed back to the surface and swam back to the
Sea Bird
. I intended to get plastered.

I climbed into the boat, pulled Sadie up
behind me and went looking for a bottle of something—anything. I
found a nearly full bottle of brandy. I grabbed the bottle and a
plastic glass, wrapped a towel around me, and climbed back up to
the cockpit.

By the time the sun set, I was completely
wasted. I was lying on the bow looking up at the stars when a boat
bumped against the side of the
Sea Bird
. I barely noticed
and didn’t care. Then O’Brien appeared in the dark, two O’Brien’s
actually, both out of focus.

“Hannah, I’ve been looking everywhere for
you. I saw the
Sea Bird
gone. I’ve been worried.”

“Hey, O’Brien. How about a drink?” I slurred,
holding up the empty bottle.

“Come on, Hannah. I’m putting you in
bed.”

I felt him lift me and carry me below. Things
spun and swirled around me. I’d feel like hell in the morning but
it was well worth another night of oblivion.

O’Brien was awake and sipping coffee when I
stumbled up to the cockpit the next morning. I felt like an army
was marching through my head. O’Brien handed me a couple of aspirin
and a glass of water, then filled a cup with coffee.

“How am I going to get through this,
O’Brien?” I hoped he wasn’t going to give me a bunch of shit like
“it just takes time, Elyse is at peace,” all the rest of the crap
that people spouted. I couldn’t take hearing it from O’Brien.

“Like you get through everything else,
Hannah. You’ll walk around pretending you’re okay and try to put
Elyse way back in the corner of your psyche, same place you put
Jake. You’ll blame yourself, bury the pain somewhere deep, and try
not to let it happen again.”

“Jeez, O’Brien. Thanks.” I found myself
preferring the crap.

“I don’t want to lose you because of this,
Hannah, don’t want you to pull away.”

“Come on, O’Brien. I can’t talk about
us
right now.”

“It’s not just us, Hannah. It’s you and how
you choose to live with this.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“No maybe. You need to let others in,” he
said.

“Fine,” I said, and O’Brien saw the futility
in further conversation.

“Dunn wants you back in the office when
you’re up to it. Believe me, he feels as much to blame for this as
you do. He realizes you’ve been right all along about Elyse.”

“If only I’d been able to prove it. Find the
one responsible before he got to Elyse.” As O’Brien so accurately
predicted, I was trying hard to hide my utter despair. “What the
hell am I going to do?”

“It’s pretty obvious to me what you’ll do,
Hannah. I just hope you don’t get hurt tracking this guy down.”

***

By noon I was sitting at my desk at the
police station, staring at a blank yellow legal pad and nervously
flicking a pencil back and forth in my hand. The office wasn’t a
comfortable place to be. Every once in a while someone stepped in
to offer sympathy. The outer area was subdued, with people
tiptoeing and speaking in hushed tones.

“Hannah, I’m glad you came in.” I turned to
see Dunn standing in the doorway. He looked tired. I was sure he’d
been up all night, working with Stark on any evidence that might
tell us who had killed Elyse.

“You were right about Elyse, Hannah. I blame
myself.” I could see how hard this was for him.

“Lots of that going around,” I said. “It
wasn’t your fault, Chief. You did what you thought was right, given
the circumstances. Let’s face it, I just wasn’t good enough to
prove someone had sabotaged Elyse’s boat, and not fast enough to
stop him from killing her.”

“Well, I should have paid more attention to
your instincts,” he said.

“Do you really think it would have made a
difference? Whoever killed Elyse was able to get to her with me in
the damned room.”

“Maybe,” he said, and handed me my badge and
my pistol. “What have you uncovered so far?” he asked. Dunn knew
that my suspension had not kept me from investigating.

“Jillian was not the only one on the
Caribbe
the night it blew up. According to the Pickerings’
daughter, Daisy, there a man, too.”

“And you think he’s the one who rigged the
stove?”

“Absolutely.”

“So who are you looking at? What about
Jillian’s father?”

“I considered him. I just can’t see him being
that premeditated about it. If he’d gotten angry at Elyse about her
involvement with Jilli he might have threatened her, but I don’t
see him developing an elaborate plan to blow up the boat.”

“Who else?”

“Elyse had been hassling Amos Porter about
sediment runoff, but he was making an attempt to rectify the
problems at the gravel pit. And if Freeman is elected, Porter
probably doesn’t have that much to worry about. Besides, Daisy said
the man she saw was a white man. That lets Porter out.”