As the van filled with water, Avery unsnapped her seat belt. She turned sideways in the driver’s seat, lifting her legs out of the collection of water that filled the driver’s side leg well so that her feet were facing the door. She braced herself on the middle console and aimed her heel at the corner of the driver’s side window. The bottom right bend of the window was key, the survival experts had told her. The junction where the tempered glass met the frame represented the weakest part of the window. Struck properly, the window could be dislodged from the door frame in one piece. Striking the center of the window, on the other hand, would put a hole in the tempered glass and slice her foot to pieces. Opening the door would be impossible, as already the water had crawled halfway up the window and the external pressure would be too great.
Avery bent her leg, bringing her knee toward her face, grabbed the steering wheel with her right hand and the driver’s side headrest with her left, and kicked the corner of the window. She closed her eyes on impact and waited for water to pour through the opening. When nothing happened she opened her eyes. The kick had done nothing. The van sunk lower in the pool, with the waterline now bouncing above the driver’s side window. She closed her eyes and kicked again. This time a spiderweb fracture twisted from the corner of the window. Sensing the lenses all around her—from the GoPro cameras mounted inside the van to the underwater cameras positioned in the pool and focused on her—she pulled her leg back one more time and kicked with all her strength. Immediately she felt the rush of water. It was colder than she imagined and the force of it was so great that it was over her head in an instant.
More panic followed when she realized she’d forgotten the survival expert’s instructions to take a deep breath first, before kicking the window, as the intrusive water would come fast and furious, preventing her from taking a good lungful of air before it was over her head. They were correct. Not only had she forgotten to fill her lungs with air before the water had found her, but the three kicks it took to blow out the window had exhausted her. She desperately needed a breath. A frantic moment followed before she looked around. It was peacefully quiet under the water, and her vision was less blurred than she imagined. She forced herself to calm down. When faced with a life-or-death situation, being calm was the number one rule of survival.
As the van completed its fourteen-foot descent to the bottom of the pool, Avery shut her eyes and allowed her ears to adjust to the pressure. When the van kissed the bottom, a much softer impact than a few seconds earlier when it crashed through the surface, she opened her eyes and saw the cameraman pointing his lens through the missing window. She saw the rescue divers watching closely for Avery to give the abort signal. Instead, she stuck her feet through the window frame, wrapped the fingers of her right hand around the grab handle, and launched herself through the opening in a smooth glide that took her into open water. Then she brought herself upright, gave the cameraman the thumbs-up, and kicked to the surface.
The underwater footage was spectacular. Christine produced the hell out of the episode, and the network leaked teasers across social media leading up to the run date, which would be during May sweeps week. When “The Minivan” aired, as the episode was titled, Avery Mason and American Events earned the highest ratings in the show’s history.
CHAPTER 3
Playa del Rey, CA Saturday, June 5, 2021
MOSLEY GERMAINE’S BACKYARD WAS THE PACIFIC OCEAN. IT WAS actually a flamboyant stretch of beach and the ocean, but the first thing anyone noticed upon entering the Playa del Rey home was the magnificent views of the water visible through every floor-to-ceiling window. The open concept design included a kitchen island that spilled into the vast living room. The retractable glass patio doors were open this evening, having disappeared into the walls as if they never existed and allowing the ocean breeze to gust through the house. The back patio was made up of multiple levels and built from imported Italian stone. A long, rectangular table that looked to have been plucked from a boardroom dominated the middle of the stone just a few steps from the pool. Fixed for forty guests, each place setting was meticulously ordered with two plates, three glasses, silverware at perfect ninety-degree angles, and a nameplate dictating a seating arrangement created by Mr. Germaine himself.