They headed out to the site. Hannah could remember when they had sunk the Jefferson to create an artificial reef. She’d dived the site dozens of times; it wasn’t even fifty feet down.
The Coast Guard radio operator put Dallas through to Liam, who was out of the water taking a break before heading back down, and he told them that the dive boat had been some distance from the wreck when the captain had done his count and discovered he was missing a diver. Yerby’s dive partners had thought she was with them until they’d gotten out of the water, because one of the other divers was about her size and had her coloring. Dallas told Liam that they would start their search right at the ship.
A few minutes later they were above the wreck and putting on their tanks. Knowing that Dallas was watching her, Hannah was nervous for the first time in years. Ridiculous! She’d been diving most of her life and had gotten certified the second she was old enough.
She checked her gauges, adjusted her mask and slid backward into the water. A second later she heard the splash as Dallas joined her.
She moved smoothly down toward the Jefferson; having her own equipment meant that her weights were just right. She was glad that despite her nervousness at Dallas’s presence, she wasn’t behaving like a novice. A giant grouper swam by her, curious and close enough to stroke, and she was sorry this wasn’t the time to stop and appreciate the sights along the way. She moved toward the steel hull of the World War II vessel, Dallas right by her side.
They reached the wreck, and he swam past her, following the line of the boat forward from the stern, searching to see if Yerby had somehow become snagged on the hull itself. When they had completed a circuit of the ship he paused by one of the openings—there were four, two on each side—the hull doors had been ripped away.
He signaled for her to follow and swam into the darkness of the wreck.
The ship hadn’t been built for comfort, and the passages were narrow. This particular hallway ended in a closed door just twenty feet from where they’d entered. Dallas worked at it for a moment, then turned and shook his head. She looked more closely and saw that the door had been sealed.
She turned and headed out. Once they were back outside the ship she noticed the sound of her own breathing and rise of her air bubbles. She spotted a lemon shark as it swam toward them and then away. As she watched it, she thought she heard a mournful sobbing sound. It was impossible, of course. They were in the water. It wasn’t that you couldn’t hear someone—though they would be garbled and muffled—if you were close or if they were wearing the right gear, but no one was near them and on a dive like this, only the police divers might have the right gear.
Dallas entered the second doorway. Hannah followed, but she suddenly knew they weren’t going to find Yerby there. She tugged at his leg. He turned to her, and she indicated that they needed to go to the other side of the ship. She saw the skepticism in his eyes through the glass of his mask, and he frowned and shook his head.
She nodded emphatically, so he looked at his air gauge and let her lead the way.
She let her intuition lead her to what she knew was the right doorway. As soon as they reached it he took the lead. As he shone a flashlight into the dark water ahead of them, she saw tiny reef fish swimming by and noticed barnacles and anemones taking hold on the walls.
Like the first hall they’d explored, this one also ended at a closed door. And, like that first door, it refused to yield. Hannah remembered something about a plan to seal off most of the ship so that divers wouldn’t find themselves trapped.
But she had felt certain this was the place to look.
He started to turn away, so she swam past him, determined to try it herself. He looked at her and shrugged, then gave the door another tug.
It opened.
And the corpse of Yerby Catalano swung out at them.
*
Yerby’s body hadn’t been underwater long enough to bloat. Dallas was relieved, then wondered why he cared. She was dead. What she looked like now didn’t matter to her.
But it might to those who loved her.
When they reached the surface, Dallas and Hannah were quickly relieved of the responsibility of the body. Yerby’s drowning was a matter for the local police. Her body would be taken up to the coroner’s office in Marathon for autopsy.
Dallas couldn’t help but be grateful he didn’t have to inform her friends that she was dead.
He was certain she had been murdered, though at the moment everyone else seemed to believe she was the victim of a tragic diving accident. But Yerby had been with Shelly and Stuart and the others when they’d seen Jose Rodriguez at O’Hara’s Bar.
Why kill her, though? She hadn’t known anything.