LC 04 - Skeleton Crew (8 page)

Out of the corner of her eye, Lindsay noticed Lieutenant Damon
of the Coast Guard at the doorway, holding a large plastic bag at his
side. She wondered how long he had been standing there.

"Lieutenant, you have some information for us?" asked Trey.

Damon walked to the front of the room and removed what
looked like a shattered piece of large plastic tubing from the bag.

"Our divers found this wedged in one of the wrecks that make
up the artificial reef. It was in the vicinity of today's incident, and
I wondered if it's yours."

"Oh, shit," whispered Bobbie.

"What is it?" Lindsay asked her.

Before Bobbie could answer, Trey cursed and threw his clipboard down on the table. Both he and Lewis looked furious. Nate
jumped up. "Damn them," he sputtered.

"No," Trey told Lieutenant Damon. "It isn't ours. It's a piece of
an airlift that's used to suck up sediment and small artifacts in an
underwater excavation. The kind of airlift we use for survey work
is small. At the depths we're working here, we never use one over
three inches in diameter, and no archaeologist uses one over six
inches. That one looks like it was nearly twelve. It would destroy
the artifacts. The only people who use an airlift that size are treasure hunters looking for gold."

"What do you think they were looking for around the reef?"
Damon asked.

Trey shrugged. "I don't know. We haven't found anything
there."

"Thank you for your time," he said and left the room.

"Dammit, Trey," said Nate.

"Take it easy, Nate," Lewis cautioned. "That's why we're
putting on extra guards. This won't happen again."

Trey wrapped up the debriefing quickly after Damon left, and
everyone went on their way. Bobbie found Sarah and the others.
Lindsay looked around for John West. Apparently he wasn't back
yet. She took another quick tour of the lab and walked outside.
While the meeting was going on, someone had repaired the railing. Lindsay looked for the alligator but didn't see him. A dragonfly lit on the shiny black water, causing a ripple in the smooth
surface, and quickly disappeared beneath it. Lindsay bent down to
examine the repair work. She shook the lower rail. It seemed solid.
She spied something wedged between the planks of the walkway.
It looked like a coin. She found a nail file in her purse and pried
out a quarter with a hole punched neatly through the middle.

"What you got there, Rabbit?"

Lindsay rose from her haunches and held the quarter out to
John. "Well, from what I hear, you are really raking in the money
today. Maybe I'll get you to buy me dinner."

They walked to the dock where several large boats were
moored. All were equipped with various kinds of winches, tanks,
and mechanical devices. John led her to a large shiny white motor
boat with the name Sea Dragon painted on the bow.

"Nice boat."

"Yeah. We've got a lot of nice stuff on this job."

John helped Lindsay in, started the engine at an idle, and
untied the line. Lindsay stood beside him as he maneuvered the boat away from the dock. Something gently nudged the bottom of
the boat, knocking Lindsay against him.

"What was that?" she asked.

John shrugged and put an arm around her shoulders. "Big fish,
I suppose."

He piloted the boat out to the ocean, then picked up speed. The
wind whipped her hair back and forth, and she had to shout to
make herself heard over the roar of the engine and the sound of the
waves against the boat.

"How's Boote?"

John didn't take his gaze away from the ocean, but turned his
head slightly toward Lindsay. "He's okay. I left him at his house. A
neighbor was home and I asked her to look in on him."

The boat seemed to leap and Lindsay grabbed hold of a rail.

"How far?"

"To the restaurant? About seventeen miles. It's just over the line
in Florida."

She sat down and watched the shore go by. There was still a lot
of daylight left and she could see the beach and the flora of
Cumberland Island, the island next to St. Magdalena. Lindsay
squinted her eyes to see if she could catch sight of one of the wild
horses on Cumberland, but the only fauna she saw were birds. She
turned her gaze to John's classic Indian profile, remembering their
previous encounter at the dig and wondering about his asking her
to dinner. He couldn't consider her too much of an enemy if he
was willing to take her out.

It took only about thirty minutes to reach Fernandina Beach.
John slowed the boat as he entered the intracoastal waterway and
motored to a dock. As they shed their life jackets and climbed out,
John stared into Lindsay's eyes for just a moment.

"It's just a few yards up here," he said finally, and walked armin-arm with her to the restaurant.

It was a popular place. The patrons looked like mostly tourists.
Lindsay and John got a window seat where they could see the
water several yards distant.

"So tell me about your business," she said, after John ordered a
surf and turf and she a fisherman's platter. "I didn't realize it was
so big."

"This is my biggest project. I've built cofferdams before, but for
smaller projects-all bridge repair. Before I started West Construction, I was one of the engineers for the Third Harbor
Tunnel in Boston. We built the largest cofferdam in North America.
I've done some oil rig work and some underwater construction in
the navy. So, do you think that qualifies me to do this job?"

"I wasn't questioning your qualifications."

"But they surprised you."

"You aren't going to pick a fight with me, are you? I kind of figured as long as I'm not digging up your ancestors, we can be
friends and not enemies."

John grinned and took her hand as she was about to reach for
her iced tea.

"I'm not going to pick a fight with you."

The waitress came carrying their dinners, and John let go of her
hand.

"That's a lot of food," Lindsay said.

"You work hard, you need to eat more than those little sandwiches they give you. You still seeing that guy-the one with the
name like a piece of machinery?"

Lindsay laughed. "You mean Derrick? We see each other occasionally. No commitments."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we enjoy each other's company. Occasionally. Tell me
more about your business. You must have been excited to have
won the bid."

"That's an understatement. I stand to make a pot of money and
gain a lot of reputation with this project. It means a lot to me and
my family."

"I remember your sister and father well. Who else is in your
family?" Lindsay tasted her stuffed crab. "This is good."

"That's why I brought you here. I have a son, Jason, twelve, a
daughter, Shelly, in high school, and an ex-wife in Oklahoma."

"Your children live with you?"

John nodded. "They're with my father and sister while I'm here."

"Well, if it isn't the redskin."

Lindsay jerked her head toward the gravelly voice. It came
from a stout man who looked to be in his early forties.

"Hardy Denton, don't you have some place to be?" John
replied. His voice was calm, but Lindsay could see his hand was
tight around his glass of iced tea.

"LOOK, Torrro, I know I was the low bid. You know that, too, don't
you?" Hardy Denton's words were slurred and he smelled like
beer. "You got it because you're a damn Indian."

Lindsay looked beyond Denton and spotted Eva Jones sitting at
a table with another couple, calmly looking in their direction, as if
waiting for a movie to start. John saw her, too.

"I see you have a lady with you," John said. "Why don't you go
back to your dinner with her?"

"Don't you patronize me, boy. I've got something to say. You
got a job that's supposed to be mine. You ain't ever done a job like
this before. You don't have the experience. I do. Don't tell me it
wasn't rigged." Denton started shifting his weight from foot to
foot.

"I'm not patronizing you. I think we should take this up some
other time. Both of us have guests. Let's not subject them or the
other diners to a disagreement."

"You're not getting rid of me until I've had my say, and I don't
care who hears. Everyone needs to know what cheats you and
those university people are."

Lindsay put down her fork and dabbed her mouth with the
napkin. "We haven't met, and I don't want to. Go away."

Denton jerked his head in her direction as if she were a mannequin that had just spoken. He looked back at John. "Tell your
squaw this don't have nothing to do with her."

John stood, but Lindsay was faster to her feet. By the look on
Hardy's face, he was surprised at how tall she was.

"You go sit down or I'll call the manager," she said.

Denton stepped back and shifted his gaze to John. "My quarrel
is with you."

Lindsay threw the napkin down on the seat. "We'll see." She
marched over to Eva Jones and bent over her table. "Reel him back
in. He's making you look suspicious."

Eva arched her brows, glanced over at her companions, winked
at them, and looked back at Lindsay. "I don't know what you
mean."

"Then I'm very disappointed in you. I'll spell it out to the Coast
Guard, and they can enlighten you."

Eva shifted her gaze back to the man sitting with her as Lindsay
turned and left. John stood with his arms folded over his chest.
Denton was shaking a finger at him. Lindsay could see from the
stony look on John's face that his patience wasn't endless. Out of
the corner of her eye, Lindsay saw their waitress talking to the
manager and he started toward them. Lindsay was about to speak
to Denton when Eva and her companions rose and walked to their
table.

"Come on, old boy." A man taller, stronger, and younger than
Hardy gripped his arm. "I need to get back." His voice was
friendly, but Lindsay noticed that his fingers bit into Denton's
upper arm.

"Hey. I'm not finished...," he yelped.

Eva turned to the approaching manager, a pale, gangly fellow
who looked too young for the job, and handed him several bills.

"We need to be going. I think this will cover our meals. Give the
rest to our waitress. She was great. So was the food."

Eva left with Denton between her and her male companion.
The manager stood for a moment, money in hand, flashed an
embarrassed grin at some of the customers who had interrupted
their meal to watch, and returned to the wait station.

"Well," said Lindsay, "that was interesting."

John gave a short laugh. "That's not the word I'd use. What did
you say to the Jones woman?"

"I hinted that Hardy Denton's harassment looked suspicious in
light of Nate's getting shot. I don't think she wants to be in the
spotlight with the Coast Guard."

"Rabbit jumping on the Tar Man again?" John shook his head
and reached out to take her hand. "I'm sorry about this. I'd hoped
for a quiet meal."

Lindsay squeezed his hand, rubbed her thumb across his
knuckles, and met his gaze. "I'm enjoying this very much. I've never been taken to dinner by boat before. And this is the best
seafood I've ever had. And ..."

"And what?"

"And I like the company."

A corner of John's mouth turned up and after a moment they
continued their meal.

"What's the story on Boote?" Lindsay asked after several pieces
of shrimp.

"In the beginning, when the site was being surveyed, before
most of the crew got here, Boote and his son, Keith, were-what do
you archaeologists call them-informants? They know the coast
and all the islands and have a collection of ancient stuff washed up
on the beach over the years. Boote drinks a lot. So does Keith. I
think they had some kind of falling-out with Trey and the others.
Collectors and archaeologists don't get along for very long, I've
noticed."

"Not surprising. We have such opposing philosophies."
Lindsay glanced up from her food to John and saw from the look
on his face that he disagreed-that he saw no difference between
them at all. She started to speak, say something about archaeologists adding to the knowledge base, but put a fried oyster in her
mouth instead. When John spoke it was to ask her about her
family, and she was happy to drift into that conversational safe
harbor.

They finished their meal. Lindsay waited outside on the porch
while John paid, and the two of them walked arm-in-arm back to
the boat. It was dark, but the dock was well lit. Lindsay couldn't
help scanning the boats for one that might belong to Eva Jones, but
she had no idea what a boat of hers would look like.

She climbed into their boat and sat down in the passenger seat
next to her life preserver as John untied the ropes from the dock.

"I'm sorry about the things that Denton guy said," Lindsay told
him.

"It's not your fault. A man with fire in his heart often has sparks
fly out his mouth."

Lindsay laughed. "Is that an old Indian saying?"

John shook his head. "I heard it the other night on Daniel
Boone."

Lindsay laughed again. "I didn't know you have a sense of
humor, and I'm surprised you watch Daniel Boone."

John shrugged and grinned. "It was on and I was too tired to
get out of bed and change the channel." He started the engine,
moved away from the dock, and piloted the boat down the intracoastal waterway and out into the ocean.

Lindsay shivered, hunkered down in the seat trying to escape
the wind, wishing she had brought a heavier jacket.

"I want to show you something," John shouted to her.

After several miles, he slowed and cut the engine. They bobbed
in the ocean, and he surveyed the area before turning off the lights.

"Have a look at this," he said, taking her hand and pulling her
up beside him.

The sliver of moon shining on the ocean cast enough light to
make the velvet black water glitter as if it were covered with diamonds. Off toward the horizon the lights of ships shone like bright
stars. The night was so dark it was hard to see where the ocean
stopped and the sky began. Overhead, it looked as if every star in
the Northern Hemisphere was visible. The rim of the galaxy cut a
bright, dazzling path across the sky. Lindsay looked back down
across the sea and saw in the distance a radiance shining up from
the ocean. It took her a moment to realize it was the cofferdam,
shining like a crown jewel among the glitter of the ocean and sky.