Red Tide (Siren Publishing Classic) (3 page)

Mitch didn’t expect any problems that weekend, but the first one cropped up less than ten miles from their destination. Over the years, she had developed an experienced boater’s ear, one that told her in a heartbeat, even before a gauge could register it, when there was a problem with her vessel. Although the instruments in front of her on the flybridge dash showed nothing amiss, Mitch knew one of the engines sounded wrong. She climbed down the ladder just as Ed emerged from the cabin.

“You hear that?” he asked. She nodded, and together they opened the engine compartment hatch. The quiet thrum became a roar with the insulating cover out of the way. Flashlight in hand, Mitch wiggled into the cramped area to examine the port engine. It just didn’t sound right, like one of the cylinders had a miss. The backup temp gauges agreed with the one on the console, so the engine wasn’t overheating.

She looked up at Ed. “When was the last time we replaced the injectors?” she asked.

He thought about it for a minute. “It’s been a while. Several years, at least. I think it’s due.”

She extricated herself from the cramped compartment. “I think so, too. It’s not bad, just a little miss every once in a while, but I think we need to go ahead, do ’em all, and get it over with.”

He nodded. “My thoughts exactly.” They replaced the cover while Ron and Jack looked on.

“What does that mean?” Jack asked.

“It means a lot of damn work on Monday morning,” Ed said. “I wonder what else’ll happen this weekend?”

She looked at him over her shoulder. “Bite your tongue, hopefully nothing.” As she expected, while they’d passed through a red tide area, the water around them now was clean and beautiful. Some floating patches of turtle grass here and there, but no dead fish. “I’m looking forward to a nice, relaxing weekend.”

They had beautiful weather. Gentle two-foot rollers and a slight breeze out of the west. Mitch eased back on the throttle approximately a half mile from the numbers and turned the bottom recorder on. She watched as the dash-mounted GPS finally zeroed out, indicating their arrival.

Ed stood ready with a marker buoy. When a spike appeared on the bottom recorder, she yelled, “Jug it.”

He tossed the jug overboard and went forward. She slipped the engines into neutral and waited until the buoy’s lead weight reached bottom and all the line unwound. When she saw which way the current ran, she nosed the cruiser forward until the spike reappeared on the recorder. The jug floated right alongside it.

“Drop it, Ed.”

Ed tossed the anchor over the rail and fed rope out. Mitch shifted into neutral and waited for his signal to back up. He gave it a tug and securely set and tied off the anchor. She shut the engines down and stretched, enjoying the sudden silence.

“All right, boys. Start reeling them in.”

Ron glanced at her. “You’re not wetting a hook?”

“No, not right now. I’m going to go relax up front for a little while. I might go down later today with a spear gun.” She went forward and lounged against the cockpit window, pulled her baseball cap down over her eyes, and listened to the conversation behind her. Ed laughed at a raunchy joke Ron told, while Jack talked about his brother’s fishing trip two weeks prior. Pete curled up next to her. She absently scratched his ears.

“Hey, Mitch?”

She didn’t realize she’d dozed off until Ed’s voice called to her from the stern. She felt Pete sit up.

“Yo.” She turned to look at them through the windshield and saw Ed suiting up.

“Wanna go down?”

Mitch shook her head. “I’d rather wait. If I go now, it’ll max me out for the day. If I dive, I’ll spearfish. If I spearfish, I’ll push my limits which means no diving the deeper spots we’ve got planned for later.”

Ed turned on his air and checked his pressure gauge. “Okay. I’ll be back up in a while.”

“Don’t forget to turn your computer on.”

He smiled and pressed the button. “Thanks, hon.” His dive computer, a model so horrendously simple and reliable that they both owned one, was easy to use but had to be activated on the surface. It was easy to forget.

Five minutes later, he rolled into the water and headed for the bottom. Mitch knew he’d still try to sneak a dive in later on, no matter what his computer said. Jack disappeared into the cabin, probably sneaking a snack. Mitch couldn’t believe he ate as much as he did and never seemed to gain weight. Just a couple inches taller than her, he was solid, but in good shape.

She stood and walked aft, sitting on the gunwale to watch Ed’s bubbles.

Ron’s answer to drinking beer early in the day was a bottle of nonalcoholic O’Doul’s. “I’m a redneck wannabe,” he joked. He pulled one out of the cooler and offered it to her. She declined. He closed the cooler and opened the bottle, draining a third in one long swallow. “Why didn’t you go down?” Ron asked her.

“Because we’ll be heading deeper later on, and if I go now, I’ll max my limits.”

“What about the buddy system?”

“Since when did you two become dive students?”

Ron obviously enjoyed ribbing her. “So you’re saying you don’t practice what you teach?”

“I’m saying that Ed’s been diving for over twenty years and doesn’t need me to keep an eye on him. God, what, is it pick on the girl day and someone forgot to tell me?”

Ron laughed. “No, hon. I’m just yanking your chain.” There weren’t many men she’d tolerate calling her hon, and three of them were on the boat that weekend.

“Well, don’t yank it too hard. You don’t want to piss off a potential client.”

“What do you mean?”

She scanned the water for Ed’s bubbles. She located him about fifty yards off their starboard stern. She automatically tracked him while talking to Ron.

“I want to file.”

“Against your husband?”

“No, against Bill Clinton. Who do you think?”

“Touchy, aren’t we?”

She took her eyes off Ed’s bubbles long enough to glare at him.

“Just kidding, Mitch. Seriously? You’re finally going to do it?”

She nodded.

“How long have you been married to him?”

“Five years back in July,” Jack called out from the galley. “And he’s a fucking asshole, if you ask me. Hey, where’d you stash the bread?”

“Same place it always is, genius,” she hollered back. “Second cabinet on the right.”

“Ah, got it! Thanks!”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Ron said, “what was the whole story behind that?”

She didn’t enjoy telling it, but time had dulled the pain.

A little.

“You know, it was four months after I walked in on him screwing that tramp before I could talk to him without wanting to scratch his eyes out. Another three before I could talk to him without fighting the urge to call him a ‘bastard’ or an ‘asshole.’”

“So why didn’t you do this sooner?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. I guess sheer stubbornness. I didn’t want to admit he won. I didn’t even sleep with him after I found him with that slut. I moved all my stuff into the guest room. I lived off and on in the house for almost a year. Then Dad died, and I moved back in full-time with Mom to take care of her. Then she died, and I didn’t want to move back. I’ve been gone three and a half years now.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. “I guess it’s just that it still stings that he had me so completely fooled.”

“I didn’t realize how much you loved him.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not that. I mean, yes, I did love John in the beginning. Or at least, I thought I did. Maybe he just swept me off my feet and I ignored the things I saw in him that I didn’t like. He can be so charming, but it’s just a face he puts on in the morning, like his socks and his underwear, he’s not…” She paused, at a loss for words.

“Not like Ed?” Ron helpfully suggested.

“Exactly.” She fell silent again.

“I’ve been wondering how long it would take you to finally get it over with. You need to move on with your life, hon. It’s an unpleasant thing to go through, but once it’s done, John’s out of your life for good. Besides that, you’ve got other things to do.”

“I know. I’ve got the shop and the boat to worry about. The last thing I need on my mind is John.”

“That’s not
what I meant.”

She turned to him. “What are you talking about?”

“You know damn well what he’s talking about,” Jack called out from the galley.

“Shut up,” Ron said. “I’ve got this.” He chuckled, his voice low. “I think you know damn well what I’m talking about. You just haven’t seen it yet.” He motioned over his shoulder with the bottle, in the direction of Ed’s bubbles. “Him, Ed. He’s right in front of your nose, dear, and frankly, I’m surprised the two of you aren’t hitched.”

She felt stunned that Ron’s words struck so close to home, defining thoughts she’d had but refused to act on out of fear of losing Ed completely. “Ed’s my friend.”

“And a damn good one at that. The two of you are closer than most married people. You certainly get along better than a good portion of them, and the chemistry between the two of you is unmistakable to anyone who sees you together.”

“I’ve never thought of him in that way,” she lied.

“Oh, don’t give me that line of crap. I’ve watched you watching him, the look on your face. And I’ve watched him watching you. Whether or not you admit it, you’ve got it bad for him.” He finished his drink. “Face it. The two of you are meant to be.”

She didn’t have an answer for that.

“I’m your friend, and I’ll help you any way I can,” he said. “Come to the office Monday morning and we’ll draw up the papers. Take my advice, talk to Ed, go to him and tell him what you’re feeling.

“Ron, I don’t
know
what I’m feeling right now,” she protested.

He smiled. “You will, hon. You will.”

“Promise me you won’t say anything to Ed about this. About me filing. I’ll tell him when I’m ready.” She looked at the cabin. “You either, genius,” she yelled.

“Mouth’s sealed,” Jack called back.

“I don’t understand why,” Ron said, “but I won’t tell him.”

Mitch noticed Ed surfacing in the distance to check his position. He gave them the okay sign and resubmerged. Jack reappeared, sandwich in hand, and Mitch tried to keep up her end of a conversation while her thoughts turned to what Ron said. His words had struck a little too close for comfort.

Even before her father’s death she’d been close to Ed. It was only natural, since Ed and Ray Jackson had been not only business partners, but close friends. She’d grown up knowing Ed. And of course she’d had the natural puppy love crush on him when she was younger. But he couldn’t feel anything romantic for her.

Could he?

Ed finally returned to the boat and handed up a stringer full of fish—grouper, hogfish, and several large snappers.

“Wow!” Mitch checked their sizes before dumping them into a cooler. “Those are nice. You did good.”

Ed passed his gear to Jack and climbed into the boat. “This is a good spot.” He looked at Ron and Jack. “How many did you put in the cooler?” He grinned.

Jack laughed. “I’m afraid we did more talking than fishing.”

Mitch started to break Ed’s equipment down when she noticed his computer. She cleared her throat and held the console up to him. “Did you see this?”

Mr. Innocent.
“Yes?”

“Did you pay attention to it?”

“No.” He’d overshot his maximum time by ten minutes, draining his tank to less than a hundred pounds of air.

She shook her head. “I’m going to be real pissed if I have to call the Coast Guard out here one day to fly your sorry ass up to Shands.” Her playful tone of voice tempered her words.

He laughed. “Mitch, you worry too much. I had a grouper shake a shaft and go under a ledge, or I would have been here on time. Forgive me?” He put on a puppy dog face.

“Sure, yeah, whatever.” Mitch knew the truth. Ed was a cautious diver. Years of experience had shown him what he could and couldn’t safely do. When teaching a class, he was a by-the-book diver. Out of class, however, was another thing entirely.

* * * *

The sea breeze died around noon and the mild two-footers smoothed out into glassy rollers that barely nudged the boat. Mitch went to the cockpit to escape the heat of the sun and play with her new GPS. She was about to turn up the FM radio when a burst of static and a hail came from the VHF.

“
Emmerand, Emmerand,
this is
Jay-Que
on one-six, are you out there? Over.” She adjusted the volume down.

That boat sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

Sounds like someone’s a little overdue.

She compared the two GPS units to see how accurate they were.

“What’s it say?”

Startled, she turned to find Ed looking over her shoulder at the two machines. He rested his hands on her shoulders and she made no move to shake off their comforting feel.