The Vision

“Oh, you—” she said, then broke off in aggravation and rose, taking her beer with her to the little fence that looked out over a deep channel where the resort’s pleasure crafts and fishing boats were berthed.

“Don’t go away mad!” Alex called.

She spun around, shaking her head and forcing a smile as well. “Just wait, my dear, devoted friends! Somewhere along the line, you will get yours. I’m not going away mad, I’m just going away.”

“Hey, don’t be mad at me,” Bethany said.

“I’m not mad,” Genevieve insisted.

She walked on down to the dock, nursing her beer, looking out at the sunset. It was beautiful and tranquil, but she was roiling inside. Why had she been so panicked? She’d twice worked rescue situations that had become retrieval situations, and they had found bodies both times, once after a plane crash in the southern Glades, and once after a boating accident off Key West.

But the dead hadn’t looked at her then.

Digging a flower bed at her house, she’d dug up bones once—but that hadn’t been as shocking as it might have been elsewhere, not in Key West, the Island of Bones.

But those bones hadn’t disappeared.

She felt a presence next to her, tensed and turned, certain that one of her friends had joined her to continue the torture.

“You all right?”

She turned at the soft masculine query to see Jay Gonzalez. He was still in uniform, hat low over his forehead, sunglasses dark and concealing his eyes.

She smiled. She liked Jay a lot. He was in his late thirties now, and had been young himself when she had first met him. He’d pulled her and a few friends over when they’d been in high school, and, admittedly, there had been a few beer cans in the car. He hadn’t brought them down to the station, though. Instead, he’d taken every one of them home.

He was one of the cops who kept his boat here. He didn’t go out on it often anymore. He’d been out on it when his wife had fallen overboard and died. But he still kept it up. Maybe he even visited it now and then because he somehow felt closer to his wife when he was on it.

But he wasn’t there now for the boat, she knew. He was there for her.

“I’m fine—if you think having all your friends convinced you’re crazy makes you fine.” She hesitated. “Thanks for listening to me today.”

He nodded, leaning against the little wooden rail next to her. “I know you’re not a ditz,” he told her, grinning.

“Bless you.”

He stared out over the water. “I just wish I could help you. I don’t have anything that would correspond with what you told me. Then again, someone might be missing and it hasn’t been reported yet. I sent some men out after I talked to you. They couldn’t find anything, either.” He hesitated. “Bizarre as it may seem, given the amount of drinking that goes on down here, Key West itself doesn’t have much of a murder rate. I deal with boozed-out kids and car accidents more than anything else.”

“Jay, I saw a woman down there.” She hesitated before going on, hoping he wouldn’t take what she was about to say as a slap on his professional knowledge. “It’s not like no one ever gets killed here. There was the husband who went nuts and shot his wife a few years back. And there was that almost-super-model who disappeared when I was in high school. No one believed she would ever be found alive. Oh! And just last year, in the middle Keys somewhere…another young woman disappeared.”

“I didn’t say we never have murders, but in comparison to Miami, our numbers are low—single digits. And, Gen—”

“I know. There’s no missing blonde on the radar right now.”

“We could find out later there is,” he said gently. “But let’s hope it was a prank of some kind, huh?”

“I am definitely hoping that’s the case.”

He nodded. “There could be a bunch of frat boys laughing their asses off somewhere. We may never know. But I believe you saw something. In fact, it’s you, so I know it.”

She smiled her thanks. “Can I buy you a beer?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “I’m still on duty. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” He made a face. “There’s some trouble up on Mile Marker 6. You take care, all right? And call me—whatever comes up. I don’t think you’re crazy.”

He brushed her chin affectionately with his knuckles, then walked away toward the sand-and-gravel parking lot.

She thanked God for him. At least he believed her. He was an interesting guy, she mused. He was a perfect sheriff’s deputy. Tall, dark, quiet. He exuded an air of competence and assurance. She always felt a sense of sympathy for him; his wife had died about five years ago, when they’d been on vacation. He’d kept pretty much to himself after that.

But he was a good guy. And it was comforting to know he had taken her seriously.

Upsetting, though, to know that no one had found any sign of anything.

Staring back at the horizon, she took a long swallow of the Miller Lite she’d been holding so long that it was growing warm. When she felt someone beside her again, she thought that Jay had returned.

Wrong.

“Hey, cutie. Long day, huh?”

It was Jack Payne, one of her favorite people in the world, though he was working on The Seekers this go-round. Crusty as a crab, Jack was weathered and leathered by the sun. He wore one of the coins he had found around his neck, a Spanish gold piece hung from a chain, and in one ear a gold earring in the form of a skull and crossbones. He worked out of the area a lot, but they’d shared several assignments, and he was a great diver with whom to work.

She flushed, seeing the semi-smile on his face.

“I know, I know, Jack. Give it a good laugh, okay? But thanks for calling me cutie. At my height, I don’t hear that word too often,” she said wearily.

“Hey, I believe you saw something. And maybe ‘cutie’ isn’t the right word. How about, hey there, gorgeous? And, as to the other, there’s nothing else anyone can do right now, huh?”

She nodded.

He slipped a fatherly arm around her shoulders. “Maybe we’ll hear something soon about someone going missing.”

“I hope not. I’d much rather it have been my imagination,” Genevieve said.

“Right…well, this is a pretty kooky place. We’ll probably discover that some prankster did sink a mannequin in the water.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got to get past it right now,” she murmured.

“You will. It will be fine.”

“Really?” She swung around, leaning on the wooden railing as she surveyed him. “I’d swear you’ve been sitting there with your hotshot friend, trying not to agree I should be taken off the project.”

“Me? Never. I’d dive with you any day, Genny.”

She risked a quick glance at the man remaining at Jack’s table. Thor. Who the hell had a name like Thor? Yeah, yeah, he had a reputation. And in another place and time, he might have fit the name well, having the height and build and rugged features of some ancient thunder god. But this was Key West, and they were living in the real world, and down here they didn’t care how many times someone had managed to make it into the newspapers. She didn’t know why—maybe it was because he had been so ready to rescue her that afternoon—she felt an instant dislike for the man. Pretentious. Arrogant. Those adjectives definitely applied. And it wasn’t because she had a thing about working with other groups. She just didn’t like him.

“Come meet him. He’s really not such a bad guy.”

“Could have fooled me,” she murmured.

“Hey,” Jack said lightly. “Your buddies are doing a pretty good job of ribbing you right now, too, aren’t they?”

Genevieve shrugged. Yes, this one was going to take a very long time to live down. No—they’d never let her live it down.

“Come on, come meet Thor.”

She rolled her eyes but followed Jack back to the table.

To his credit, the man stood. She could see little of his face because he wore a pair of Ray-Bans, but he had the kind of high-set cheekbones and strong jaw that certainly defined his personality. No-nonsense, rugged, probably fearless. Totally confident and determined. She decided that even without what had happened today, she probably wouldn’t have cared much for him. He didn’t appear to be the kind of man who worked and played well with others.

“Thor, meet Genevieve Wallace. Gen, Thor Thompson.”

He offered her a hand. He didn’t smile, however. He wasn’t treating her experience with the same amusement as the others. Apparently he found it dangerously annoying.

“Thor,” she murmured, shaking his hand but extracting her own quickly. “Interesting name.” She couldn’t help the bit of disdain in her tone.

The hint of a smile curved his lips at that. “Sorry—my grandparents were Norwegian. They started out in Minnesota. It’s common enough in those circles. Genevieve, huh?”

“Family name, as well. St. Genevieve. My antecedents were old-school Catholics, I suppose,” she murmured.

“Gen. It’s easier,” Jack said cheerfully. “Sit. I’ll get you a beer. Ah, you already have one. Well…sit.”

“Um…” She hesitated. She should have been quicker with an excuse. Anything. Actually, I’m already sitting with friends over there. Excuse me, but I think I’m wiped out, I’m going to my room. There’s a cat in a tree I have to rescue…Anything!

But she hadn’t thought fast enough. Jack already had a chair pulled out for her.

“Strange you two haven’t met yet,” Jack said.

Genevieve saw a tawny brow shoot up over the Ray-Bans. “Jack, it’s a big world.”

“Yeah, but you’ve worked the Keys before,” Jack said.

Thor nodded. “I haven’t been down this far south that often, though.”

“Well,” Jack said cheerfully, “it’s a great project to be working.”

“Right. Working,” Thor murmured.

Genevieve stiffened instantly. Despite the Ray-Bans hiding his eyes, it was more than apparent that he thought of her as a liability. “I am working, and I take my work seriously, Mr. Thompson,” she informed him coolly.

“Mr. Thompson?” Jack said. “Gen, we’re all working together. He’s just Thor.”

“Interesting work method,” Thor said, as if Jack had never spoken.

His voice let her know he was staring at her as if she were a total flake.

“I would be willing to bet, Mr. Thompson, that I know these reefs far better than you ever will.”

“Really?” he replied, leaning forward. “Just what is it that you think you know about these reefs, Miss Wallace? That you mysteriously see the past? People floating down there? Strange, if that were the case, one would think you’d know exactly where to look for all the sunken ships. Wouldn’t that be great?”

“Come on, guys,” Jack demanded. “What’s with this Mr. and Miss stuff?”

It was her turn to ignore Jack.

“My reputation as a diver is absolutely spotless, Mr. Thompson.”

“Hey, why don’t I go over and say hello to your buddies, Gen?” Jack murmured.

His chair scraped back. He was definitely in a hurry to quit their company and the wave of tension that had seemed to materialize around them.

Thor Thompson was still staring at her. Then he leaned forward suddenly and removed the sunglasses so he could stare into her eyes. “Spotless?” he asked softly. “Maybe until today. We might as well get this right out into the open. I don’t give a rat’s ass about your reputation. Even though we’re not working at great depth, every man has to pull his weight. I’ve seen too many ‘experienced’ divers pop up dead. If you see dead bodies that open their eyes and try to communicate with you, Miss Wallace, we’ve got serious problems ahead. You might want to get some help before you go down again.”

For several long moments Genevieve stared at him, so shocked by the hardball vehemence of the attack that she didn’t even blink.

The man had blue eyes sharper than jagged ice and a jaw that seemed set in concrete. Her heart pounded. He didn’t know her; didn’t know anything about her.

He’d simply judged her.

She sat forward, as well, met him eye to eye, and smiled.

“I’m a better diver than you could ever hope to work with again. And I’m known to find what I’m looking for, so if you don’t like me, well, then excuse me for being crude, but I really have nothing to say other than ‘Fuck you, asshole.’” Still smiling pleasantly, she stood and walked away.

Jay Gonzalez drove down Roosevelt, wondering why the situation had left him so perplexed.

Nothing. There had been nothing down there.

Hell, he’d been in and around the water long enough. Vision was distorted beneath the waves.

The crime rate was low, just as he’d told Gen. Most of it had to do with petty theft. Some grand larceny, and of course there were the drugs. But murder didn’t happen often.

There couldn’t be anything to it. Genevieve thought she’d seen a body. The body had been gone. A prank, perhaps? According to Marshall, there hadn’t been any other boats in the immediate area. But, hell, he knew kids, and they were willing to go to great lengths to play a trick.

Still, it disturbed him. He liked Genevieve, really liked her, and always had. He hated to see her upset like that.

Ghosts were big business in Key West, as they were in many places. Hemingway was said to walk around town, and sometimes it seemed as if every house on Duval Street claimed to have a ghost, thanks to the Indian bones and the wreckers and plain old human frailty. But Genevieve wasn’t the type to make up a story for the fun of it.

What the hell had she seen?

Murder wasn’t common in Key West.

But it did happen. Had happened.

Hell, yes, it had happened. He knew damned well it had happened.

He gritted his teeth; he was already reaching US1. His siren blaring, he wove through the stopped cars. There was an accident just ahead. He looked at the cars as he approached and prayed he wouldn’t be seeing any bodies himself. Not that night.

2

The following day, Thor was one of the first divers up and about. The plan was to meet early every morning at the tiki bar to grab coffee and a light meal. Just fifty feet from the little hut, the resort offered a small dive shop, where their tanks were filled and any damaged piece of equipment repaired. He stood on the dock for a few moments, enjoying the sunrise. It promised to be a beautiful day, or at least a beautiful morning. They planned to spend the next couple of weeks taking the boats out early and calling it quits by about three, when the late summer rains traditionally rolled in. Those afternoon storms often came on with ferocity, but generally they raged for half an hour or so, then were gone.

He sipped his coffee, aware that others were beginning to emerge from their cottages. Marshall Miro’s crew was impressive. They were all in excellent shape, and comfortable in the water no matter what the circumstances. They had the proper respect for the ocean’s power. Which was good—he didn’t intend to lose any divers. Even Genevieve Wallace had sounded sane enough when she’d snapped back at him. He liked her air of determination, in fact.

He saw her walking from her cottage, meeting up with Bethany, the second woman on Marshall’s crew. She was the opposite of Genevieve, probably a respectable five-five or five-six, but next to her friend, she appeared short. She was attractive, compact but nicely muscled. She also seemed to be far more cheerful and easygoing than her long-legged counterpart and was waving to Lizzie and Zach even as she met up with Genevieve. Lizzie made even Genevieve look short, and when Zach moved up, he dwarfed them all. Jack was already over by the tiki hut, and Clint—long and lanky at twenty-two, bronzed, his hair flopping in his face—was setting out platters of doughnuts and fruit. Rounding out the group, Vic and Alex came running up along the beach, heavy packs of equipment over their shoulders. They were of an age, and, like the others, physically fit and mentally sharp.

“Hey! Thought you were lolling around in bed. Didn’t see you down here,” Marshall called to Thor, walking down the dock.

“We’re in search of the find of the century,” Thor said dryly. “I wouldn’t want to oversleep and miss all the excitement.”

“You don’t think we’re going to find anything?” Marshall asked, rubbing a hand over his bald head and squinting against the sun.

“I didn’t say that. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe there was something to find. I’m just curious what the state guys have planned if nothing shows up here. People have been diving this area for years. Admittedly, we’ve been finding signs of metal down there, but hell, that could mean just about anything.”

“All we need is proof that she’s there, and then it’s up to the ecologists and historians to start arguing about the next steps,” Marshall said with a shrug. He stared at Thor. “To be honest, I’d just like to go down in the books as having been in on a real find. If determination means anything, we’ll find something for sure.”

“Determination is always an asset,” Thor murmured. He was looking back at the others. Victor Damon gave Genevieve a teasing bump as they walked along the path. She turned and pointed a finger at him, saying something. They were probably still ribbing her. He said something else, and she stole his baseball cap, then slammed it back on his head. Still, they were all laughing. That cop, Jay Gonzalez, seemed to hold her in regard. If she’d been a fruitcake, it was doubtful the man would have listened to her so attentively or sent divers out in search of a body.

“You’ve got a tight-knit crew,” Thor commented.

“Those two,” Marshall said with a nod toward Genevieve and Victor, “and Bethany all went to school together. Best friends. Poor Alex is the new guy. He’s only been around for about three years. All the way from Key Largo,” he added dryly. “What about your people?”

“The best,” Thor assured him. “Lizzie and Jack have worked it all—rescue, recovery, salvage. They’re a great team. And you must know Jack. Probably better than I do. The invitation to join this search came kind of suddenly, and several of my people were already committed to other projects. I’m missing some of my regulars, but I’ve known Jack forever and I’m glad to have him on my team.”

“Jack has more experience than all of us put together,” Marshall said.

“We should get going,” Thor said, checking his watch.

“I’d like to be down before nine to take advantage of the visibility before the storms roil up the sand.” He let out a whistle, drawing the attention of his crew, who hurried for their coffee.

Genevieve Wallace walked by, her eyes like sharp crystals as she assessed him without a word.

“Nice morning, wouldn’t you say, Miss Wallace.”

“Yes, a perfect morning,” she replied politely, and hurried on by.

It was a perfect morning, and the day passed uneventfully. Three different dives, hours under water. Just before three, with the regularity of a factory whistle, the storms started rolling in.

Thor had seen the sky change on the horizon, seen the rain when it had begun farther out at sea. When the divers came up for the third time, he motioned to Marshall that it was time to call it quits. With the boats lashed together, he could hear Marshall’s people talking as he waited for his own crew to stow their gear.

“I think we were closer yesterday,” Genevieve said.

“Why? Because of that woman you saw?” Alex teased her.

She slapped him on the arm. “Because I have a hunch. I think we need to back it up a bit, Marshall. We didn’t give yesterday’s location a thorough search. I mean, a relic isn’t going to just jump out of the sand into our hands.”

“We’ll talk about it,” Marshall assured her.

By then the motors were purring, they had cast off their ropes and weighed anchor, and were moving away.

“Think Genevieve might be right? Should we move back?” Lizzie asked.

He shrugged, though privately he admitted that they should retrace the area. There had been too much excitement yesterday—too much time spent looking for a woman’s body are not enough for signs of a wreck.

“We’ll see,” he said. “I’ll talk to Marshall about it tonight.”

He was startled when his cell phone started to ring. “Excuse me, guys,” he told them. When he moved forward and answered, he shook his head when he recognized Sheridan’s voice. “Yep, that will be fine.” He hung up and swore. The preliminaries had been done. But now…well, hell. It wasn’t his nickel. If Sheridan wanted to come down and talk again, so be it. “Meeting at the tiki bar tomorrow morning—seven-thirty sharp!” he called to the others.

Thor felt suddenly irritated. He didn’t know why exactly, but Sheridan bugged him. The man had even hinted that perhaps Thor should find another diver for his team. He didn’t like bringing in someone he didn’t know well. Maybe he’d have to hire someone else, he decided. They were looking for needles in a really giant haystack, and he wanted to do more of the actual diving himself. Well, tomorrow, at least, he would have an extra body around, if needed, with Sheridan there. That would work, for now, although he wasn’t sure how long he wanted Sheridan on his boat. Maybe it would all work out without bringing in untested strangers.

The day had yielded nothing, but Genevieve still felt on top of the world.

She had slept with every light in the bungalow on, dreading the darkness. But she had drifted off at some point and actually slept reasonably well.

She had tried to appear completely calm, competent and rational throughout the morning, even allowing the others to joke at her expense. She simply wasn’t going to live this down for a while. And yet, despite her apparent calm, she had been terrified all morning, praying silently not to have any visions this time, not to see a dead woman telling her to beware.

All day, she had stayed closer to Victor than usual, all the while trying not to let him know what she was doing. But if she saw something, she was determined he was going to see it, too.

There had been no finds. But there had been no corpses in the water, either. That made the day a great success, as far as she was concerned.

By five she had washed down her own equipment, helped with the boat, showered and changed. She wasn’t fond of hanging around by herself, so she hurried out to the tiki bar.

She was the first arrival from either of the crews. Clint saw her, and brought over a Miller Lite. “You do want a beer, right?”

“I do. Thank you.”

He grinned. “It’s the only appropriate libation for kick-ass women.”

“Bethany likes piña coladas,” she reminded him.

“Well…some chicks can get away with it,” he assured her. “Ah, the big guy himself.”

Genevieve thought he had to mean Zach—she hadn’t met many people in her life quite as tall as Zach. But then she turned and realized Clint wasn’t referring to Zach. He was talking about the man she had personally dubbed asshole.

To her displeasure, he headed right for her. Then again, the only other guests enjoying the thatched shade of the tiki bar right now were an elderly couple who had told her earlier they hailed from Ohio. A nice couple, but not exactly people any of them knew.

Not that he exactly knew her, Genevieve thought as he approached.

He didn’t ask if he could join her, just nodded—eyes shaded behind dark glasses again—and slid into one of the chairs. By the time he was seated, Clint had returned with a beer.

“One of these days, do you think I can head out with you guys?” Clint asked him.

Thor shrugged, accepting the beer with a quick “Thanks.” He looked up at Clint. “What kind of a diver are you?”

“A good one. I have a master’s certification.”

Thor gave Clint a long assessment, not a muscle in his face so much as ticking. “Sure. Take time off next week. But out on the boat, I’m not just captain, I’m God Almighty. If you can live with that…?”

“Shit, yes,” Clint said, then caught himself. “Sorry, Genevieve.”