He was sadly disappointed when he finally saw it.
He knew that she had tried, and he was grateful to her. But when he saw the sketch he knew it would do him no more good than a verbal description. Of course, he couldn’t blame her or the artist. All she had to go on was a man in a wet suit and goggles. The entire lower half of his face had been covered by his regulator. He supposed he should be grateful she’d seen enough to know the man’s eyes were blue.
He tried not to show her his disappointment when he thanked her.
And he tried not to be upset that, despite Martin Garcia’s having given them the real names of the other three men who’d been with him the night Jose was killed, the cops had yet to find any of them. None of them had been at home or in any of the most likely bars and clubs. None of them had wives or roommates who could give them any leads to the whereabouts of the men. The police were still looking, but so far they had nothing.
But at least, thanks to the DMV, they had pictures of who they were looking for. When he left the police station he had images on his phone of all three.
He thought of the cases he had worked that had taken weeks—even months—to solve. That was often how it went. Following every possible lead and finding that, still, all you did was watch and wait.
The problem was, he just didn’t feel that they had weeks, much less months, to solve this case.
Part of him wished that he, rather than Logan, had been the one to go to Miami to check into Jose’s sister, but the truth was that he didn’t want to be away from the Siren of the Sea any longer than he had to be.
Who was he kidding? He didn’t want to be away from the property’s owner. Hannah O’Brien.
What the hell were you thinking? he demanded of himself.
She’d wanted him to stay. They’d both felt the attraction. On some level he’d been feeling it from the first time he’d seen her. That was life. Sometimes you were just attracted to someone, right or wrong.
But now he cared about her. Too much. It was a mistake to care that way. It was a mistake to get too close. A massive mistake in the middle of a case that she was inextricably a part of.
Heading to the wharf to speak with the local dive captains, he muttered aloud to himself in disgust, “And it’s a mistake you’re going to make again, given half a chance, right?”
Yes. The answer was yes.
He could argue all he wanted that she was actually safer if he was right next to her.
It was still wrong.
Or was it wrong only because he felt as if he’d caused the death of his best-friend-with-benefits?
He hadn’t caused it. He knew he hadn’t.
And he also knew there was no way in hell he could let himself cause Hannah’s death.
There was no way in hell he would let her die. Period.
The problem was, being emotional could cause a man to make real mistakes—serious mistakes. Life-or-death mistakes.
He pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind as he reached the wharf. He parked illegally—it was hell finding parking anywhere on the island—but he had official decals on his car, so he wasn’t going to come back and find a ticket on his windshield.
Walking out along the wharf, he found the Sea Serpent, the dive boat Yerby had gone out on—unknowingly heading to her death.
He knew he stood out among everyone else on the wharf in his tailored shirt and a casual beige jacket. At least he wasn’t in a typical G-man black suit. Still, among the swim trunks and T-shirts and colorful Hawaiian shirts, he might as well have worn a sign that identified him as agent of the law.
The captain of the Sea Serpent—George Howard, according to his notes—was setting up his tanks for the afternoon dive when he looked up and saw Dallas. There was something so depressed in his expression, Dallas felt sorry for the man.
“Hey,” he said drearily. “You’re looking for me, I guess. I’m Captain Howard. George. I gave a statement several times. The cops investigated me, my crew, the equipment, the boat—if it can be investigated, it was. We did everything by the book. They said I was cleared, but...
“My divemaster’s been at this almost twenty years. I can’t believe she disappeared on us—or that we couldn’t find her in time. We do counts every five to ten minutes to make sure all our divers are with us. I tell people all the time not to go into that wreck. We can make people get certified to dive, but there’s no paperwork that prevents them from being stupid.”