14. Tyler
Side by side, Indiana and I stared at the fuzzy image of the small plane wreck on the bottom of the ocean.
“Jesus, I didn’t expect to find that,” I said. “I thought it was going to be another shipping container.”
“Same,” she said. “I’m glad it’s not though. I couldn’t handle going through another one of those.”
“I know what you mean. I better let Aria and Captain Watts know.” I pulled my phone from my pocket.
“No signal out here, Kingsley.” She scrunched her nose, making her look so cute. “Unless you brought a sat phone with you.”
I jabbed a few buttons on the screen. “Do you have a sat phone?”
“We used to, but I had to sell it to buy fuel. I always intended to replace it, but, you know, there was always something else that took priority.” She nodded to the paperwork on the wall with a couple of overdue notices on top.
I studied the plane again. It looked like a Cessna or similar make of aircraft, but the wings were missing, so it appeared as a long narrow tube on the monitor. It was impossible to tell how long it had been down there, but that had to be what Chui’s DIMS was tracking.
“We need to go down there and check it out?” I said.
She jerked back, frowning. “We? As in, you and me?”
“Yeah. I told you I know how to scuba dive.”
She squinted at me. “Yeah. When you were sixteen.”
“I have an excellent memory. I’ll be fine.”
“No way.” She stepped back.
“Why not?”
“I’m not going to be responsible for you going belly up because you forgot to breathe.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. I promise I won’t blame you if anything goes wrong.”
“Pfft, you won’t be the one blaming me if you’re dead, mister.”
“Okay, how about this? We do a test dive first, and if I prove to you that I know what I’m doing, we’ll do our next dive down to that plane.” I pointed at the monitor.
She folded her arms and did a sexy thing with her lips where she was trying to be angry but couldn’t quite get there. “Damn, you’re pushy.”
“Pot, kettle, Captain Bossy Boots.”
She burst out laughing, and I loved seeing her unrestrained. “Alrighty, mister, let’s see if you remember how to set up your dive gear.”
She led the way to Rhino’s rear and shoved open a heavy door. Her equipment cupboard was the definition of organized chaos. I helped her remove two air tanks and dive vests, and we dragged them and the rest of the equipment we needed down to the dive deck.
She stepped back with her hands on her hips. “Show me how you put these together.”
It may have been thirteen years since I’d completed my scuba dive course, but for once, my photographic memory came in very handy.
Once the kit was complete, I checked the valve to make sure air was flowing, then stepped back to see her reaction. “Done.”
She darted her eyes upward.
Had she been checking out my butt?
Sucking her lips into her mouth like she was trying not to smile, she stepped forward to examine my work.
“And?” I asked.
She turned to me and gave the okay signal.
I matched her hand sign.
She shook her head. “I hope I don’t regret this, Kingsley.”
“Life’s too short for regrets.”
“Unless it’s your life that’s cut short.”
I smiled. “Yes, I guess there is that.”
She thumped my shoulder. “Let me wake up Dad and tell him what we’re doing.”
With Old Smithy seated on the steps down to the dive deck watching us, we hoisted our dive kits onto our backs.
I checked my gear one last time.
“Remember, it’s all about control,” Indiana said, her voice adding to the mild breeze blowing across the ocean. “Your breath, your movements, your thoughts. All controlled.”
“Got it.” Control was something I fully understood. In my deep undercover days, it meant survival. Underwater, it would be just as critical.
The afternoon sun glanced off the water, casting long shadows over the dive deck. My heart hammered with a mix of nerves and excitement. Indiana watched me with eyes sharp as flint.
“Ready?” I asked, trying to sound casual, yet not missing the edge to my voice. I couldn’t afford to screw this up.
“Start your dive time,” she replied, showing her serious side. “Mark our time, Dad.”
Old Smithy squinted against the glare, and I wondered why he didn’t wear sunglasses. “Don’t do anything stupid down there.”
I assumed he was talking to me, and I nodded. “I won’t.”
“Be careful, Indy,” he said in a tone that suggested that he was almost nervous about saying it.
“As always, Dad. Don’t go to sleep,” she shot back before turning to me. “Let’s go. Forty minutes max. Keep right beside me.”
“I’ll stay glued to your hip.” I pulled my mask onto my face and took a giant stride off the back of the boat into a world where I was not the apex predator and where my detective skills meant very little.
The chilly water hit my face like a slap, catching me by surprise. Indiana had insisted that we wear wetsuits, and I was glad she did. The cool ocean seeped through the neoprene and stole the warmth from my skin. The cool bite sharpened my senses, and as my ears filled with the sounds of swooshing water, I inhaled my first breath underwater in over a decade.
Indiana waved in front of my mask, and I gave her the okay signal.
It was weird to hear my own breathing, and it took a few minutes for me to get a handle on my buoyancy with my integrated vest. But I only had to fiddle with minor adjustments before I was able to stick to Indiana’s side.
As she led me around and underneath Rhino, she took me through a few drills.
Indiana moved with an ease that made me look clumsy. The dim light filtering down from above highlighted the sun-bleached tips of her hair that trailed behind her like whisps of silk. She was strong, yet graceful. Although she kept watch around us, her gaze never drifted too far from me.
I caught glimpses of her pale pink lips parting ever so slightly as she adjusted her regulator in her mouth. The scar on her forehead, usually hidden under her thick bangs, was prominent, like a badge of honor. Knowing what little I did about her, I imagined it would be a scar she didn’t regret. Despite being concealed in her wetsuit, her toned arms and long legs looked incredible.
My wrist scraped against Rhino’s barnacled hull, and I snapped my arm back, chiding myself to focus on what I was doing. My eyes betrayed me, drawn to her smooth movements as she swam alongside me. She was at home here in the ocean.
I didn’t have anywhere that would give me the look of pleasure she was displaying.
The trailer home I lived in was a temporary one, and other than my coffee machine, I didn’t have any special comforts. I didn’t even know how long I would stay in Rosebud.
Indiana was so relaxing to watch that I forgot about the fact that I was breathing underwater and enjoyed the freedom of feeling weightless.
She tested me with a few hand signals, and after I signed my replies, she indicated up, and we rose to the surface at the dive deck.
I tugged my breather from my mouth. “How did I go, boss?”
She splashed water over me. “I’ll give you boss.”
Wiping water from my face, I grinned. “I’ll take that as an A plus.”
“Okay, I’ll admit, I’m impressed. Your buoyancy is good.”
“Wow, I bet that hurt to say.”
She jumped onto my shoulders and pushed me under the water.
Laughing, I resurfaced, and she was talking to her dad.
“. . . have another thirty minutes on the clock, so we’ll check out that plane. Okay?”
He saluted. “Okay. Don’t get distracted down there.”
She turned to me. “Make sure you equalize your ears early and regularly. You remember how to do that?”
I pinched my nose and pretended to blow air out my ears.
“Good. If they hurt, just rise a bit until you fix them. You ready to go again?”
“Let’s do this.” I put the breather into my mouth, and releasing air from my vest, I lowered beneath the surface with her.
Keeping at her side, I dove deeper. The afternoon sunlight gradually diminished with each kick of our fins.
The ocean wrapped around me, and as I flanked Indiana’s side, I kept my breathing steady and adjusted the pressure in my ears well before they started to sting. She glanced my way often, and I was surprised when her subtle nods of approval filled me with a sense of pride.
I wanted to impress her. No, it was more than that. I needed to.
Indiana was commanding my attention more than the criminal cases I was investigating, and that was messing with my mind. I wanted to know a hell of a lot more about the sexy salvage expert, but I had learned the hard way that getting involved with the woman I was protecting was a bad idea.
Halfway toward the bottom, Indiana pulled her flashlight from her vest, and I did the same from mine. With our beams lighting the way, we swam through a school of silver fish and their scales glinted in the lights like tin foil.
The plane’s narrow, white carcass materialized in the murky depths amongst a field of colorful coral and sea plants. I searched the outer shell for emblems to indicate the airline, but I couldn’t see anything yet. Even the tail was devoid of markings, which was unusual and proved that the aircraft was a private plane.
I scanned the surroundings for the wings but couldn’t see them anywhere. Maybe they were sheared off midair or were taken away by the current. But the chunky floats attached to the side of the plane confirmed it was a seaplane. That was an interesting piece of intel that may help us track down the owner of the plane.
I pointed toward the cockpit, and we adjusted our direction. The way the algae and barnacles had etched themselves into the metal was eerily similar to the amount of growth on Chui’s sunken yacht.
Had this plane crashed around the same time that Chui’s yacht sank?
That would be a coincidence I would need to investigate.
We swam along the battered fuselage to the cockpit. Hovering outside the broken glass, we shone our lights inside, and tiny fish darted in every direction.
In the pilot’s seat sat a skeleton.
Son of a bitch!
Indiana’s muffled cry reached me, and as an explosion of bubbles erupted from her mouthpiece, she reached for my hand.
I squeezed her palm to mine and turned her face toward me. Through her mask, terror flared in the whites of her eyes. I squeezed her hand harder and wished I could do more.
I indicated okay, and as she signed back that she was, she released my grip. Pissed off that I hadn’t considered potential bodies inside, I hand-signed to her that she could turn around, but she shook her head.
Damn, she’s stubborn.
Yet I didn’t expect anything different from her.
Returning my attention to the skeleton, I guided my light beam over his decaying clothing, hoping there was an insignia on his shirt or something that would give a clue to his identity.
My breath hitched.
A bullet hole was in the middle of his shirt. Based on its position, I doubted he was alive when the plane crashed into the ocean.
Indiana touched my arm and indicated to her watch.
I nodded and motioned for her to follow me into the plane. Leading the way along the plane’s fuselage, I was surprised to find the entrance door was missing.
Had that door come off in the crash? If so, had it already been open?
Maybe someone jumped out before the plane hit the water?
Adjusting my buoyancy so I didn’t hit the roof, I swam into the cramped space and headed for the cockpit. I searched the pilot’s pockets for a wallet, but they were empty. No wallet. No cash. No keys. Nothing.
I scanned the cockpit for a weapon but also found nothing.
Someone murdered the pilot.
The question was, did the killer also die in the crash?
My heart pounded against my ribcage. This plane had to be connected to Chui somehow.
Maybe it was involved in his drug running.
I turned toward the cabin, half expecting stacks of drug packages piled up on crates, similar to what we found in that drug den in the everglades.
Indiana was at the far end of the wreck’s belly, and she was trying to pull something out of a gap near where the wings had been.
Pushing off the pilot seat, I swam to her.
At her side, I lowered down for a closer look. Wedged between the twisted wreckage was a metal briefcase.
We both gripped a corner and tugged, but it was like it was trapped in a stubborn clam.
Working together, I pried the twisted metal away, and Indiana gradually wriggled the case free. It released with a teeth-clenching squeal, and she turned it over to the handle side. Two locks with both key and tumbler pin codes sealed the case shut. Indiana reached for the locks.
“No,” I screamed through my breather.
Her hands shot back.
I waggled my fingers at her and moved my hands in what I hoped represented an explosion.
She nodded, and as she drifted back, her light beam intersected mine on the case.
I had a feeling someone believed the contents of this case were worth killing for. Yet why it was still here was baffling. Maybe the plane plummeted before the killer had a chance to grab the case. Or maybe the pilot managed to get away after he was shot, and midflight, he succumbed to his bullet wound.
Indiana hand-signed boat, and I gripped the case handle and followed her out of the wreck.
Bubbles danced past my mask, racing skyward as though they could taste freedom. The sunlight that had twinkled above on our descent was much more muted now.
As Indiana and I swam side by side in silence, my mind raced over the possibilities of what was inside the case.
Was it linked to Chui?
Was this seaplane listed as missing?
Who was the dead pilot?
And who the fuck murdered him?
We leveled off at eighteen feet for our compulsory decompression stop, and my dive computer beeped its approval of my pause in the ascent. An extreme silence enveloped me. It was like a lovely soft cushion had been draped over my ears.
Gripping onto Rhino’s anchor, I shared my gaze between the beauty around me: the deep blue that stretched forever, the shimmering surface, and the colorful fish that came to check us out. But it was Indiana who took my breath away. Coppery strands of her hair that had escaped her loose braid danced around her face like they were having a party. Her arms gracefully moved side to side as she kept herself in position. Her wetsuit molded to the curves of her amazing breasts in a way that I should not be noticing.
It was hard not to notice this woman.
But I needed to stop.
With our ascent suspended, and our bubbles reaching for the surface in silver strings, I examined the case. Deep striations scraped across the widest plains of the case, which I imagined happened during the impact with the ocean when it wedged so tightly into the metal. The barrels with the rusty code numbers didn’t have a pattern to them, yet I doubted they were in the open position. There wasn’t a single marking on the case to indicate who owned it, and there was little chance we would be able to pull fingerprints from the metal after being submerged for so long.
Indiana tapped my arm, indicating it was time to surface, and I pumped air into my vest and gradually glided up to fresh air.
Ten feet from fresh air, a beeping noise pierced the serenity.
I glared at the case. The beeping came from inside.
What the fuck is that?