4

INDIA WAS TYPICALLY first in the water, but this time she hung back, well after Briggs. Her heart thumped in her ears. Her mouth was so dry that her tongue stuck to the roof. She couldn’t do this.

“Want to stay in the boat?” Briggs asked. The aqua water was glassy calm. There wasn’t a shark or other boat in sight. Though an afternoon storm grew in the east, there were no sounds save for the gentle lap of water against Turtle’s boat’s fiberglass hull. If his parents knew she’d taken it, they wouldn’t be pleased, but she was beyond caring. She had to find justice for his death, meaning she’d reached the point of acting first, then asking their forgiveness later. For her cousin—for her daughter—India had to solve this mystery before whoever killed Turtle got her. “I won’t be down long. I want to get the lay of the land. See if there’s anything police missed. Chill. I’ll be right back.”

“No.” Don’t leave me. Even more than she was afraid of the water, she was afraid of being alone. “I’m coming.” Though the cardinal rule of diving was not to hold her breath, she pressed her regulator to her mouth, held her breath and jumped. Beneath the water’s surface, she’d hoped her pulse would calm, but it did not.

Her splash startled a stingray from the sandy bottom, which in turn spooked her.

She glanced up to find Briggs in front of her. He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger. Okay?

Despite feeling anything but okay, she returned the signal.

He pointed down, then shrugged. Was he wanting her to show him where Turtle was eaten right before her eyes? The horror clung to her soul.

Get it together. Think of your daughter.

Breathe. Breathe. In. Out. Nice and slow.

Once her breathing had regulated, India descended into the shadowy world, swallowing hard to help her ears pop. Because of the approaching storm, the normally clear blue had taken on a spooky green glow. Could Turtle be with her, leading her charge?

Upon joining Briggs, she pointed to the very spot where her cousin had, for all practical purposes, vanished. After she’d reported the event to police, they’d sent divers to the sight, recovering a lone dive fin and the gold, turtle-shaped medallion his father had given him for his twenty-first birthday.

While his dad insisted on being on the police dive boat, India and her parents had stayed on the dock with Turtle’s mom. India would never forget the hollow look in the woman’s eyes. Before becoming a mom, India couldn’t have understood the pain of losing a child. Now, something happening to Bridgette was her worst fear.

A nine-foot black tip emerged from deeper water.

India had done enough diving to realize that the shark was rarely a threat. They were merely curious. Still, that didn’t stop her runaway pulse from spiking.

Spying the shark, then her, Briggs pointed to the same spot against the coral where she’d remained hidden the day Turtle died. He motioned for her to stay.

She gratefully did.

Twenty minutes of air time passed while Briggs meticulously searched the area.

When he rounded the coral head, leaving her sight, India rationally knew he was fine, but had to check. She found him waist deep in the small coral cavern where she and Turtle had played as children.

He finally emerged, clasping something in his right hand. Upon seeing her, he gave her a thumbs-up. Time to surface.

Gladly.

First back to the boat, she removed her mask, setting it on the custom dive platform.

Briggs approached behind her, also removing his mask, but then reached around to slap a rectangular packet in front of her. “This explains why someone wanted Turtle dead.” The bedraggled Ziploc bag contained cash. A huge pile of soggy hundreds. “I found it wedged between a sea urchin and the front porch of a cranky eel’s coral house. Was your cousin involved in a drug ring?”

“No. Never.”

“How can you be sure? He had an awfully nice boat.”

“He worked hard for it. Bought it at a salvage auction after the last hurricane. He was constantly taking odd jobs or dive charters to get extra cash. No way would he be a drug mule.”

“I believe you. But this is pretty solid evidence that he may have stumbled into something bigger than he even knew.”

She nodded. Despite the warm sun, her teeth chattered. The storm had come closer. Clouds built and churned, mirroring her tumultuous mood.

“Let’s get you out of the water.”

India let Briggs help remove her BCD and fins. Ascending the dive ladder, her mind replayed everything. Her near-accidents following Turtle’s death. The hesitancy of the police to take action—could one or more of them be involved? She and Turtle used to hide trinkets in the coral cave. Her father had bought them matching treasure chests filled with plastic gold coins. They’d spent entire afternoons diving for them, pretending to be pirates. Was it possible her beloved cousin had a dark side she’d never seen? She didn’t want to believe it was true, but she wasn’t naïve. The island wasn’t the easiest place to make a living. More and more locals were being squeezed out by new landowners who had more cash than time.

Turtle had been a rebel. Had this been his way of fighting back?

Sitting on the bench seat, shivering beneath the oversized beach towel Briggs wrapped around her shoulders, she couldn’t get her mind to slow. The money occupied the seat opposite hers, staring, taunting, calling her stupid for not having guessed the connection sooner.

“What are you thinking?” Briggs asked.

“Everything. Nothing. Mostly, I’m furious. Turtle and I used to call the coral pocket where you found the cash our own private treasure cave. I’m sure a few other locals know about it, but I’ve never seen anyone else there. It’s too far out for tourists. But Turtle being involved in drugs? Knowing my sister killed herself from an intentional overdose? It’s too much. Beyond that—the implications are even worse. Police treated me like I was crazy. Like I may have played a role in Turtle’s death. What if they’ve known his killers all along? And now they want me out of the picture, too?”

“How sure are you that the men in the trawler saw you?”

“Not at all. On the ride out, I stayed in the cabin, making sandwiches. We ate, then hit the water. Turtle was excited to try his new metal detector.”

“When you first went under, no one else was around?”

“No. We were alone.” She told him the abridged version of how she managed her escape using Turtle’s tank.

“After you told your family, what happened then?”

“My father rode with me to tell police—my uncle was too grief-stricken to leave his house.”

“Fair enough. You get to the station. What then?”

“Haven’t we already been over this?” She rose, pacing the cramped deck.

“Sorry. Humor me. You never know which detail might unravel the whole case.”

She sat again, picking her left thumb’s torn cuticle. “My father and the local commissioner go way back—they’ve been friends since grade school. Because of that, we went straight to his office.”

“When you told the commissioner, what was his initial reaction? Close your eyes. Zero in on every detail.”

India did as Briggs asked, centering herself with a few deep breaths. “Honestly? Commissioner Blaylock acted the same as the rest of us. His eyes watered, looking as if it took great effort to hold back tears. He immediately said he would launch a search for the trawler—regardless of motive, they had no business chumming alongside a dive buoy.”

“Did you hear him authorize the search—or just that he said he would?”

“I don’t know? I mean, I guess he started it. The whole thing’s a blur. I remember him telling us after church the next Sunday that the boat hadn’t been seen on any local island. He suspected it may be from Haiti or the Bahamas. There’s no reason not to believe him, right?”

“Yes and no . . .” Briggs winced. “I like to believe cops are the best of us, but some . . .”

“Wait—so if the commissioner is turning a blind eye to drug trafficking, then he may be giving my family lip service? He never ordered a search at all?”

“It’s possible.”

“How do we know for sure?”

“We launch our own search. Granted, we can’t cover the whole island chain today, but we might get lucky and find the Pearl nearby.”

Thunder rolled. Thick clouds covered the sun.

“Now?” She missed Bridgette. Though India’s mom loved watching the baby, India preferred not leaving her for more than a few hours. “We should probably wait till tomorrow. I don’t want to get caught in this storm.”

“We need to find out who’s behind your so-called accidents. The only way to do that may be tracking down that trawler. If we do find it moored nearby, that also tells us your commissioner can’t be trusted. We kill two birds with one stone.”

“Okay . . .” She rose to get her purse from the cabin. “Go ahead and get started to Providenciales. I need to call Mom and tell her I’ll be late.”

“Was she expecting you?”

Yes. I never leave Bridgette this long. But she also knows I’m with you. “We had dinner plans. I’ll change them.”

“Cool. Speaking food—got anything in the galley? I’m famished.”

“When are you not?” She flashed a faint smile, recalling happier times. “There are probably crackers or chips. I’ll look.”

Before she’d reached her phone, angry clouds opened, hurling rain and wind at the small craft. Lightning strobed the dark sky.

India tried placing her call, but had no service.

It was no big deal. Happened all the time on the islands—especially with power. So why did her entire body feel clenched? As if she couldn’t avoid impending doom?

She glanced out one of the narrow port side windows to see nothing but a wall of water.

But then wait—gaze narrowed, she checked again . . .

What was that low, black object heading straight for them? Another boat?