A rumble caught their attention, and the policeman turned as a motorcycle and rider came right up the side path and practically onto the dock before it rolled to a halt and the rider jumped off.

The cycle came to rest on its kickstand as Kerry pulled off her helmet and strode towards them, her boots sounding loud on the wooden planks.

“Well now,” Officer Brewer studied the oncoming woman,

“what do we got here? You travel with one of them radical, liberal, revolutionary types?”

“What?” Kerry stopped, took off her sunglasses, and regarded 20 Melissa Good him. “I’m a Republican, thank you very much.” She snorted and turned her attention to Dar. “What’s going on?”

Dar gazed fondly at her. “Officer Brewer just stopped by to welcome us to the neighborhood.”

“Oh.” Kerry relaxed and gave the officer one of her more charming smiles. “That’s really nice of you. Thanks.”

Brewster chuckled. “Well, I won’t keep you ladies. Have yourself a nice trip, y’hear?” He turned and walked off the dock, circled the motorcycle, and paused to admire it. Then he kept going down the path and out of sight.

Kerry watched him go, then turned. “Welcome Wagon at seven a.m.?”

Dar put an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get loaded up and get out of here before the town mothers show up with cookies.”

She walked Kerry over to the bike. “I’ll tell you the rest when we get out of the dock.”

“Uh oh.” Kerry lifted her packages off the vehicle and hefted them. “I’ll get this on board if you want to stash the bike, then we’re outta here.”

Dar poked her finger at a bag. “Are those what I think they are?”

“Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.” Kerry shooed her.

“C’mon. I hear stingrays calling my name.” She made her way down the dock to the boat, hopped on board, and disappeared.

Dar reviewed the start of her day and decided it augured well for a far more peaceful end to it. Good thing, she chuckled to herself, as she pushed the motorcycle into the small garage and securely locked it. Her plans for the evening definitely would not tolerate any interruption.

She checked the doors to the cabin one last time, then set the alarm and walked back to the boat. She released the front line, then the rear one, and tossed them onboard, jumping on as the boat started to drift slightly in the outgoing tide.

The breeze was rising as Dar started up the engines and slowly reversed them away from the harbor, making sure she was well out before she nudged the throttles into forward and swung the bow around, pointing it out toward the endless blue horizon. She settled her bare feet against the console and gave the engines gas, feeling the surge of power as they headed outbound.


Chapter

Three

KERRY LET HERSELF drift on the slight underwater current, watching the slanting rays of the sun filter down and touch the reef over which she was swimming. A small school of bright blue and yellow fish went sweeping by, wheeling and pausing for some unknown fish reason but giving her an excellent photo opportunity, which she took immediate advantage of.

The pale sand and darker coral outlined the colorful fish as they swirled around her, leaving her behind as they found another patch of ground to explore. Kerry watched them swim off, then rolled over onto her back and relaxed in the light green sea as she examined the reef for more wildlife.

One thing that had always surprised her was how noisy it was underwater. In a pool or in the lakes of her birthplace, the sounds were absent or muted. But here in the ocean, nearly everything made a racket. Lobsters and other crustaceans clicked against the coral, shells tumbled in the underwater current, rattling along, even the sand made a swishing sound as it was moved.

Their regulators were the loudest, though. The bubbles created a low rumbling sound, and each intake of breath brought to mind the rasping of Darth Vader.

Kerry exchanged her regulator mouthpiece for the smaller one clipped to her vest and took a sip of water, rinsing it around her mouth before she swallowed, then replaced her regulator and took a breath. A clown fish approached her warily, inspecting the edge of her fin before it darted off. Then a tiny cuttlefish, almost transparent, floated in front of her mask, its fins almost brushing her nose. Her eyes focused on it, a structure so intricate it seemed like the finest blown glass.

The perfection of the universe brought its own awe, Kerry had found, and its own peace.

A soft knocking caught her attention and she looked around, spotting Dar hovering over a coral outcropping nearby, gesturing her over. She flipped lazily to horizontal and flexed her thighs, waggling her fins to propel herself through the water. Dar reached out and snagged a strap on Kerry’s buoyancy compensator vest as 22 Melissa Good she neared.

Kerry drifted, looking where her partner was pointing.

“Oomfp.” The sound of surprise came out around a burst of bubbles. A large sea turtle was huddled behind the rock, watching them warily. A piece of seaweed hung out of its mouth and swayed in the current, and Kerry quickly brought up her camera and focused it. Just as she opened the shutter, the animal released the seaweed, poking its tongue out at Kerry as it was captured on film.

She heard the faint sound of Dar laughing as she drifted back, and they watched the turtle return to its feeding. Then Dar checked her dive computer and pointed at the time on it.

Kerry nodded in understanding. It was a shallow dive; if she looked up, the boat would only be twenty feet or so above her head.

But it was their second dive of the day, and she knew Dar preferred to stay on the cautious side when it came to bottom time. She covered the lens on her camera and clipped it to its holders on her vest, then followed Dar toward the anchor line of the boat.

Out of long habit, they paused at ten feet, where the wave action overhead started to make itself felt. The seas were fairly calm, but there was enough of a chop to keep the boat at a steady rock, and Kerry could see the dive ladder moving up and down at the back of the stern.

Like flying a plane, where the takeoffs and landings were the trickiest, in diving it was getting in and out of the water that usually presented the most difficulty. Once you were in and down, things were usually a breeze. Kerry watched Dar release her grip on the anchor line and head for the ladder, her hands reaching down to remove her fins as she approached it. She waited for her partner to grab the moving ladder and toss the fins up out of the water with her other hand before she let go of the line herself and followed.

Dar waited for the stern to dip down so she could get her feet on the bottom step of the ladder, then she reached up to the upper rung and hung on, letting the wave action pick her right up out of the water and into the late afternoon sunlight. She stepped up into the boat and shucked her tank and vest, clipping them to holders before she turned around and reached down to grab the back of Kerry’s air tank as she emerged from the sea.

Kerry was no weakling, but pulling one’s self and forty pounds of equipment out of the water onto a pitching boat after a long day’s diving was a lot to ask, and Dar saw the quick look of appreciation she got as she pulled her partner on board. “Here, give me that.” She reached over and unsnapped the catches that held the vest across Kerry’s chest and loosened the inner waist strap as she removed the tank.

“Ugh. Thanks.” Kerry pulled off her mask and scrubbed her Terrors of the High Seas 23

hand over her face. She could taste salt and the rubber from her regulator on her tongue, and what she really wanted was… Ah. “I love you.” Her hand closed around the plastic bottle of Gatorade as she loosened her weight belt and let it drop to the deck.

Dar chuckled. “You’re welcome.” She dunked Kerry’s camera in the fresh water bucket next to the ladder, and tossed in their masks and snorkels as well. “Can you grab me some oranges?”

“You got it.” Kerry patted her face dry with a towel, then ran it quickly over her body before she went down the stairs into the cabin. She sucked on the Gatorade as she opened the refrigerator and removed a pop-top can of mandarin oranges. She took it, a spoon, and a packet of crackers and peanut butter and returned to the deck.

Dar had unhooked the tanks and put them into the cradles next to the compressor, and hosed down the BCs that were already hanging there. She was rinsing Kerry’s regulator with careful hands when Kerry eased up next to her and bumped her lightly with one hip. With a quick grin, Dar put the regulator down next to hers on the counter and took the can of fruit.

They sat down in the comfortable camp chairs on the back deck and relaxed, putting their feet up in the attached footrests as the boat rocked gently in the waves. “That was nice,” Dar commented, removing the top from her can. “Not much current down there, either.”

“Nmpf.” Kerry shook her head, her mouth full of cracker and peanut butter. “Gorf. Sorry.” She swallowed down the mouthful and chased it with some Gatorade. “Yeah, it felt so great just to be down there.” Her eyes swept the horizon, then she got up and looked around to the front of the boat. “Especially out here, where it’s just us, the sky, and the water.”

Dar nodded. “We’re still in the straits; we could just stay anchored here for tonight.”

Kerry faced into the wind, listening to the rhythm of the waves.

“Or?”