“I’ll be fine,” she said.
He headed to the stern, where he, Diego, Rick and one of the crew helped each other with their dive tanks.
Then Agent Cody came back over to her. “There’s an embankment just that way, and we’ll be close to the surface until we reach it. The depth there maxes out at about twenty to twenty-five feet, so we won’t be far at any time. Do you need some type of flotation device?”
“I’ll be fine in a mask and flippers,” she said.
“You’re sure.”
“I am.”
“All right. Just keep telling her to fetch. One of the crew will be with you. You’ll never be out there alone.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded. That curt nod of his seemed to be his trademark.
As Agent Cody went over, sitting on the hull and falling backward into the water, Diego McCullough joined her. “You okay?” he asked her cheerfully.
“You bet.”
“I’m not so sure I would be,” he said. “The dead body side of it...it takes time.”
“I’ve had a few strange experiences in my life,” Lara told him. “I’ll be fine. And thank you, truly, for being concerned.”
He nodded. Rick had already gone into the water, and now Diego followed him. A crewman came over to Lara with the mask she’d already chosen and a pair of fins. He held them out to her.
“Miss Ainsworth?”
“Thanks.”
Five minutes later she was in the water. Thankfully, she had snorkeled before at Virginia Beach and on a vacation to Jamaica when she’d been younger. She knew that she was a strong swimmer and that the fins would help propel her. She loved to just have her face in the water to see everything below her while the snorkel let her breathe.
But first she treaded water and waited for Cocoa to come to her. Thanks to the events of the day before, she didn’t feel in the least bit silly talking to the dolphin.
“We’re going to play fetch, Cocoa. We’re looking for something this size.” She held her hands apart to indicate the approximate size of a human head. “Somebody killed a man, Cocoa. What we’re doing can help us catch that awful person.”
She wondered if human beings would ever really understand just how much other animals—mammals, especially—knew or understood. She just knew that she was on a mission, and Cocoa was on it with her.
The water was extremely clear; Lara could easily see the divers and Cocoa below her. Cocoa hadn’t actually decided that she didn’t like Rick anymore, but she definitely wanted to bring her treasures to Lara. Unfortunately they weren’t looking for a foam wig stand or a punctured football. After an hour at that location, they moved on.
The next stop was just ten minutes away, and their efforts were repeated.
This time Cocoa found something but couldn’t quite retrieve it. She chittered and squealed at Lara, trying to get her to come down and see it.
Lara tried, since the water was shallow. But when she reached Cocoa’s sand-and seaweed-strewn find, a diver was at her side.
Agent Cody.
And, thankfully, he took the object and quickly bagged it in a dive net.
She’d had time to see what Cocoa had discovered, though. Only a brief glimpse, but one she would never forget.
It was a human head.
*
Arnold Wilhelm stood beside the tracks at the Metrorail Station and looked down at the street fifty feet below. It was his first day out in three months, and he was only there because his family had threatened to put him in a nursing home if he didn’t start moving—living—again.
He’d taken the death of his friend Randy Nicholson hard. The two of them had been a few of the only truly old codgers left of the old days. They’d both been born at the long-gone St. Francis Hospital on the beach, and they’d gone through Shenandoah Junior High and Miami Senior High together. They’d fought in the Korean War together, had their families and remained friends since.
And then, three months ago, Randy had passed away. And while Arnold knew that he was lucky as hell—he was a man with two decent kids, five grandchildren and an ex-wife who was okay and had remarried a damned good guy—he was lonely. He and Randy had gone to the movies together and had lunch twice a week, gone to the old Elks Club together and...
Hell. Randy had been better than a wife. Randy just liked to hang, as the kids said. He never wanted anything in return. He’d shared every important experience in Arnold’s life.
Ah, well, that was getting old. Painful, but better than the alternative, or so people said.