Chapter 16

The pesky crab pinched at her leg, this time she moved, then regretted it. Pain exploded in her side. Her foot lay in the cool water of the ocean, mitigating the burning around the bottom of her heel. But there was something definitely wrong with the foot. She chanced a glance. “Damn!” The entire side of her foot was a blackish purple, and a small slice was open from her heel to the ankle bone.

The crab pinched again, winning him a flying trip back to the ocean from whence he crawled. “Damn it. Is everyone after me?” With every movement her head pounded and drummed a rock concert against her skull. She felt her forehead. It was hot and crusty, and swollen. She took a handful of seawater and rinsed it across her wound. The tiniest movement made her world spin and she felt like vomiting.

Struggling to sit up, she collapsed in hideous pain. “Well, that’s not gonna work, girl.” Using her eye and nothing more, she glanced around. The sun was low on the horizon. It was either getting dark or getting light, but which one? Garbage bags and plastic containers surrounded the rotten sinking boat on which she lay. “Okay…damn.” She struggled to remember something, anything.

Her name was gone.

The reason for her predicament and pain was gone.

Everything was gone…

Except her survival instinct, and that was setting off all of the alarms in the universe.

Obviously, someone had beaten her, then dumped her body on this boat.

She glanced around again. This time with purpose.

Get up. You must get up. The voice of reason spoke loudly in her mind and some of the pounding decreased.

She struggled amid the incredible stabbing pain in her side. It took a few minutes, but soon she was sitting, holding her side with a scraped and bruised hand.

“Oh my God! I’m adrift!” Tears welled and spilled to join the saltwater she sat in.

No time for tears. You have to survive. Figure it out. Fight.

She felt a kind of energy infuse her body and she struggled to stand on the tippy surface. The boat was sinking faster than she realized. When she’d awakened, only her feet were in the water. She had to find a way to stay afloat. Surveying the mess floating about her, she spied a red plastic gas can a few feet away next to a broken Styrofoam cooler, its lid floating separately. Those combined with the fishing net would make a small raft that would float. “You go, girl.”

She jumped into the water without hesitation. The ocean cooled her pounding head. It did not even occur to the woman that she might not be able to swim. She just did it. And she could swim, of sorts. Her right side burned fiercely, but her left stroked toward what she needed. Eventually she captured the gas can and began her way back to the boat. Now the fishing net floated in what was left of the cabin. She grabbed the net and piled it on the plastic can, then set out stroking for the cooler and lid. A loud gurgling sound made her turn around to look. The last of the boat cabin disappeared beneath the surface, and now only the bow stuck up. Soon it would be submerged as well.

“Don’t look back. It will not help,” her inner voice warned her.

“Ahhhhhhhhh! I’m alone. In the water. Get the cooler—I need a name for myself. If I’m the only one I have to talk to, I want a name!” She struggled toward the white chest and its detached lid. “Jane Doe will have to do. Swim, Jane, swim!” She cheered herself on.

Soon her struggles paid off and she lay atop the scratchy net which held the gas can, cooler and lid beneath her in its tangles. “Made it, Jane. Good girl. Now what?”

She had no water. The only thing she wore was a long man’s denim shirt.

The sun had moved higher into the sky. So, it was day.

That presented another problem.

The sun.

Did she sunburn? She pulled a hunk of hair in front of her eye. It was dark. She surveyed the skin of her arm that held the hair. It was passably tan. But she would still burn if she didn’t have cover of some sort.

“Think, Jane.”

The clouds on the horizon were dark and built like cotton candy, all poofy. A quick thought flashed crossed her mind. That scene would make a great photo. Why was she worried about photos at a time like this? When she was stranded in the middle of the ocean on a gas can and a cooler?

She leaned on her good elbow. The wind was coming from the direction of the clouds. That could mean trouble. Since the sun had risen from that direction, it must be east. The little ditty every child learns, rang through her head: The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. It’s the way the good Lord made it, all for the best. Unfortunately, she did not know where she was, or even who she was, so direction meant nothing.

Environmental and situational awareness. Remember your training.

She closed her eyes. What training?

Her feet trailed in the water as she let go of the pain and descended into the welcoming velvet fingers of unconsciousness.

Respite from pain.

Respite from fear.

“Respite from life if you don’t wake up! Now!” The voice in her head shouted.

She grabbed the fishing net just as her body began to slide off the make-shift raft. Her good eye flew open, only to meet a crashing wave blotting out her vision and stinging her face. She grabbed the netting and held on for dear life as the wind howled, and the clouds sped across the sky.

It seemed like years as she clung to the raft. Her hands ached and bled as the fishing net cut into her skin, and still she hung on. Occasionally the sun would blast through, adding insult to injury. It was high in the sky and the direct impact of the heat only made her hands burn in the saltwater. When she thought she could take no more, the waves calmed, and the squall seemed to turn into a gentle caress. Exhausted and parched, she curled up on top of the raft as best she could, and lay there. She was too dehydrated to cry and too spent to move.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a man stood, tall and dark. His silhouette was familiar. He held a gun aimed directly at her. Was her memory coming back? Was this the man who had hurt her? As she tried to concentrate on the picture, it shattered and disappeared into the water that surrounded her. “Noooooo!” she screamed to the heavens that looked down upon her with such disregard. She held an arm out to nothing in particular. “Help me! Please.”

“Then look up. Look to the horizon. You have to fight for your life. No one can help you, but you.”

She contemplated the voice in her head and glanced to the horizon. Even turning her head hurt after the storm, and her last-ditch effort at survival.

Then she saw it.

Sitting up too fast, her vision swam, and her head pounded viciously.

“Am I seeing things? Am I dying?” She wailed to the water and wind.

“No silly, it’s an island.”

And she was drifting closer. Energy she had never known she possessed, came to life and she started to paddle, adding momentum to the current and wind. “You go, Jane.”

****

Master Moto, the infamous masseur of the South Padre Island Athletic Club, sat on an old hard bag of soil, thinking as fast as he could. There was still that dumb fuck, Keizer. That piece of shit could be his way out. “Water? Can I have some water?”

“Talk.” Conrad’s voice was steel.

“It wasn’t me. I swear. This guy made me do it.” Sweat dripped from his round forehead making him blink rapidly.

“This guy, go on.” Conrad was as still as a cobra, ready to strike. Cold eyes looked on Moto with complete contempt.

“This guy, Wilmer’s brother, he made me do it. Said he’d tell my boss about…” Moto added a touch of tremble to his voice.

“Tell your boss what?” The story was taking too long. Moto thought Conrad doubted any of what he was saying and he began to concoct a plan of sorts.

“Tell my boss that I did time. I’d lose my job and go back to jail. I skipped out on probation.” Moto pleaded with his words and his hands.

“So, someone else cooked up this thing? You just carried your end, huh?”

“Yes, I swear!” Moto blinked several times. “Water?”

“So where is my wife?” Conrad grabbed the man by his throat.

“I don’t know.” Moto choked out. And it was kind of the truth. He had no idea where the barge had gone or where Andrea’s body ended up.

****

Conrad got up and walked to the other side of the building. He motioned to the group, as they huddled away from Moto’s hearing. “What do you guys think?”

Simon was the first to comment. “Lying. I know a liar when I see one.”

“I second that.” Evie commented quietly. “I watched my torturers when they made up stories to taunt me. I recognize the look.”

“I third that.” Bull chuckled.

“I’m in agreement with the gang. He didn’t even make up a viable story. I can check on him in a heartbeat.” Pete crossed the room and took a water bottle from his bag. He handed it to Moto who downed the entire contents immediately.

“Thank you. You are the kind one.” Moto handed the bottle back.

“Nope. Thank you.” Pete took the bottle with two fingers on the bottom. “Now I have your prints, sucker.” He turned to his group. “Back in a few. I’ll check that story with our security team.”

Pete departed down the stairwell as Conrad turned to Evie, “Pete is a genius. So now what?”

“I say we talk to the fabulous-looking trainer, the German guy. See what he has to say for himself and his brother. This could be some kind of spy ring after government secrets.” She waved toward Moto. “He can stay here, but let’s get some better restraints. No sense letting the chicken out of the hen house before he lays the eggs we want.”

“Good idea. Andrea used to meet this Wilmer and his gal pal for lunch after her workout. I saw their names in her calendar. His classes are probably over by now.” Conrad sent Bull and Simon upstairs for better tape, or rope, or whatever. Back in front of Moto, Conrad was up for one more try. “Sticking to your story? One last chance, Moto. Where is my wife?” Conrad poured on the intimidating attitude and tried adding a scowl to his menacing look.

“I told you, I don’t know. I’m just a masseur, a nobody. I didn’t know there was anyone in the rug. Honest.” By the looks of his body language, Moto was beginning to relax. “You can’t keep me here. That’s against the law.”

“Who said anything about a rug, you son of a bitch?” Conrad kicked Moto in the gut as hard as he could.

Moto bent and vomited across his legs.

“Jesus, what a mess.” Conrad leaned down. “And it’s only illegal to hold someone if they are alive. Get it?” He was stretching the law a might, but it was a decent threat.

Evie laughed. “Nah, Rad, it’s still illegal, but the cops would have to find the body to charge you with anything.” A wicked smile split her lips. “They’re still pouring cement over by the airport.” Evie could be very naughty when she wanted to be and right now, Conrad seriously appreciated her naughty side.

Now Moto was trembling. “You can’t kill me. You’ll never get your wife back.” Moto realized his mistake the second the words left his lips.

Conrad rounded on the man. “You said you didn’t know where Andrea was, you lying son-of-a-bitch!” Conrad smashed a fist into Moto’s jaw and heard more crunching. Blood pooled between the man’s lips and dribbled down his chin.

Bull returned with rope and more duct tape. “Got what we need.” He held out an international-safety-orange roll of duct tape and a coil of hemp rope. “I’ll do the honors. One of my many skills.”

Bull set to securing Moto with gusto and a lot of the vibrant tape. He ended with the rope securing both Moto’s hands and feet. Moto was trussed up like a steer in a ‘rope and ride’ rodeo contest.

“A little ambitious there, Mr. Cheddar. I don’t think he’s going anywhere.” Simon snickered. He lounged on a stack of burlap bags filled with who knew what, his back against one of the ancient scarred timbers that held up the roof.

“Damn right, boss. Watch TV, ya learn something.” Bull grinned. “Uncle Grady used to let me watch the National Rodeo Finals at his house. Always wanted to rope me an animal and hog-tie it up.”

Conrad and Evie both smiled. Bull Cheddar definitely had a unique set of skills.

Conrad’s cell phone buzzed. “It’s Pete.” He hit the green button. “Yeah?”

“I’m at Morehead’s office. You’re gonna love this. Our friendly masseur is none other than Henry Mikamoto, the New Orleans cop killer. Remember last year during that big tropical storm? Took out the power for a couple days and the gangs went nuts looting in the city? The Asian gang hit Silverstein Diamond Exchange, got into a firefight with the cops? Apparently Mikamoto was the head slime ball. Shot three cops before it was done. Two died. Your wife’s masseur is on the FBI’s most wanted list.”

“That’s just rich. Thanks, Pete. Later.” Conrad ended the call. He turned to Moto. “Well now, Henry…”

Moto’s eyes grew huge, and he shook his head back and forth. Behind the orange tape high-pitched mumbling could be heard. It was more than apparent the jig was up, and Moto knew it.

“Game’s over, chum. Tell me where my wife is or I’ll kill you right here, right now. Nobody’d blink twice and I’d probably get an award from the New Orleans Police Department. They don’t cotton to losing their own.” Conrad’s voice was low and vicious. His hate for this man was shining through in every word he uttered.

It was clear to Conrad, Moto did the only thing he could, considering the situation. He threw Dembeck under the bus.

Moto blinked toward the tape on his mouth and winced as Bull ripped the tape, and more facial hair, off his face. “Keizer Dembeck has her. He stashed her somewhere, man. I don’t know where. He’s a crazy German. He’ll kill her if you don’t let me go.”

“Really…”

“He’s waiting for the codes, man. I’m supposed to meet him at noon. We were going to move the woman. The island is too small, too risky.” Moto turned his head and spit blood across the floor. “You want her, you give me the codes. I tell Dembeck. He’ll give you the woman. Easy as that.” Conrad figured Moto knew he was negotiating from a very weak position. He also knew Moto figured Conrad was consumed by his own emotions. Emotional men were often desperate. Moto’s plan might work if he kept talking, or so Moto thought. “Dembeck wouldn’t tell me where. He’s a devil. He’ll kill her, I tell you.”

“Where’s this meeting supposed to be?” Conrad ground out. He was consumed with emotion, but he was also a professional soldier, or had been. He was in complete control, only showing Moto what the man expected to see in an angry husband with a kidnapped wife.

Moto whispered, “Sea Ranch Marina. On State Park Road.” He hung his head as if he’d just ratted out a diabolical mastermind and knew his life was forfeit. “At Dirty Al’s. I’m a dead man, and so is your woman if this goes south. You know that, right?” Conrad recognized the game.

“And that’s supposed to bother me?”

“Look, I helped you. Give me a break. Dembeck’s the one you want.” Moto pleaded pathetically.

“Sit tight there, Henry.” Conrad slapped a new piece of orange tape across the man’s mouth and patted it into place a little more briskly than needed. “We’ll be back.”

Conrad headed for the elevator along with the rest of his team. “Let’s take this upstairs. I need to think.”

Evie followed him into the freight elevator, patting Conrad on the back. “We’ll find her, Rad.”

Bull pulled the old wrought iron gate down and hit the button with a half visible number ten on it. The freight elevator lurched and ground its way up. “Your pal ever think about upgrading this thing?” Bull held onto the straps hanging from the roof of the elevator car as it lurched to a stop a few inches short of the tenth floor. Never one to be without a sense of humor in the worst of situations, Bull affected his British accent. “Lady’s sportswear, shoes and feminine sundries. Watch your step, ladies and gentlemen.” He hefted the gate and waved the group into Pete’s loft.

“It’s eight thirty. This supposed meeting is at twelve.” Conrad moved to Pete’s massive computer against the only interior wall in the place. He logged in with a few quick strokes on the keyboard. Google Earth appeared and began to zoom into Texas as he typed in the name of the marina. “This is the spot.” Pointing to the screen, he continued. “I looked at this place when Andrea and I were thinking about getting a boat. Lots of places to hide. Lots of opportunity for escape.” Conrad zoomed in closer and moved the map around showing most of the area in detail.

Simon scrutinized the map. “Lots of room to run.”

“Yeah, that guy’ll rabbit for sure, boss.” Bull pointed to several open spaces and a couple docks. “Hard to set up surveillance. Moto’s not stupid. His partner picked a great place to meet, if you swallow his story.”

Evie paced back and forth in the warm sunshine of the enormous front window. “If I’ve got the story correct, Mr. War God’s brother is the head dude in this caper. Moto is the hired help.” She paused and stretched in her workout wear. Three pairs of eyes were immediately drawn to the magnificent silhouette in the window.

Out the side of his eye, Conrad watched Evie’s boyfriend. The man was in pure worship mode. Simon just about swallowed his tongue. Conrad held back a chuckle. Relationshipee? Absolutely not!

“Do any of these people seem like they would know about backdoor codes, to you?” She turned to the three men who stood staring at her. Their jaws slack. “Guys?”

“Baby girl, you need to take a step back.” Bull shifted his stance to cover his reaction to her innocent stretch.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake! You guys need to get your head in the game.” She charged at Bull with a double chest shove. It broke the spell. Conrad heard Simon clear his throat as he tapped a button and the map disappeared.

Bull mumbled under his breath, “Not my fault if the boss hooked up with the queen of the Amazon in tights.”

“Really?” Evie was exasperated. “The question, guys…”

“Right. I mean, no.” Simon stuttered. “The answer to your question is, no.”

“Pete told me Moto is a gang thug from New Orleans. He’s wanted for a cop killing in a diamond heist, after tropical storm Nate took out the power last year. Seems there was a firefight resulting in two dead cops.” Conrad typed in the name Henry Mikamoto as he briefed the team on Pete’s intel. A long list of articles appeared with a mug shot of their prisoner downstairs. “He was the head of the No Wah Ching, the New Orleans version of the Wah Chings out of California. Says here they make MS 13 guys look like kindergarteners.”

“That be some bad dudes, man.” Bull Cheddar squinted at the big screen over Conrad’s shoulder. “And we got one tied up downstairs. Shu-wee. This thing just gets better and better.”

Simon moved to the keyboard, “May I?” Conrad moved and Simon took the hot seat. His fingers flew across the keys. Articles flashed by in a flurry.

“What’s he…”

“Don’t watch. It’ll make you sick to your stomach.” Evie turned Conrad’s chin away with a bright tipped fingernail. “Trust me!”

The computer chimed five times in a row. “Here ya go.” Simon sat back and pointed to five different documents on the screen.

The first one gave an overview of the storm. The second showed the Silverstein Diamond Exchange. The third was an article on the robbery, shootings and casualties. Police officers weren’t the only ones who died. The fourth showed historical pictures of the No Wah Ching gang. And the last article covered the insurance companies that had gone bankrupt due to multiple insurance claims that couldn’t be covered, including the largest claim from the Silverstein Diamond Exchange.

“I wrote a quick algorithm to show articles related to Moto and the gang, then prioritized the information with a greater than ninety percent validity of the conflag…never mind.” He smiled at Conrad. As adept at research as he was, Conrad hardly followed Simon’s explanation and knew he had a glazed look in his eyes. Once again, he reminded himself to heartedly thank his BFF for dragging her relationshipee into his private mess.

Evie slung an arm around her guy. “English, babe.” She kissed his cheek.

“There is a big connection between your wife being kidnapped and these variables.” He pointed at the documents tiled across the screen.

Conrad looked at the articles, then back at Simon. “What connection?”

“Well, I’m not sure, but the program says it’s there. Algorithms don’t lie.”

“Unless your algorithms can tell us where my wife is, I don’t see how this helps.” Conrad grabbed a beer, popped the tab and guzzled half, then set the can down hard. “Our best bet is grabbing Moto’s partner and beating the answers out of him.”

“Yeah! That’s my kind of algorithm.” Bull smacked the table with his fist. The beer can jumped precariously.

“Down, big guy.” Evie laughed, then sobered. “If Simon says there’s a connection, then there’s a connection. We just have to figure it out.” She moved closer and pulled up a chair to read each document carefully.

The stairwell door opened on a panting Peter. “Hey, guys.” He crossed to the industrial refrigerator and grabbed a carton of orange juice. “Give me a minute.” He downed several gulps in between pants.

“You ran up ten flights? You got an elevator, ya know.” Bull stared at the out-of-breath man.

“Good exercise.” More juice. “I don’t think that thing’s safe.” More panting. “Not serviced in a couple decades.” Another long drink. “Shuuuu, it’s getting hot.”

Bull looked at the open elevator, then at Peter, then back at the elevator they’d just used.

Breathing normally now, Pete shrugged, “It’s probably okay, though. What have we got?”

Evie did a quick brief for Pete, including Simon’s revelation. “There is still a couple missing pieces.” Conrad finished his beer and reached for another. “Conrad, sit! You need a clear head and your pacing is making me crazy. Sit.” She pulled out a chair and pointed at it like a mother giving her child a time out. “Now, Mister.”

Conrad flopped into the chair, slumping. “Fine.” Conrad was ready to explode with this new information. He couldn’t stay still. A second later he jumped up. “No. Not fine. I can’t sit here and do nothing.”

Evie grabbed his shoulders and forced him back into the seat. “Planning is not doing nothing. Cool your jets, Mister.” Her command worked the second time.

Conrad sat.

He watched her take up his pacing as she set into a review and question briefing. “Moto says Wilmer, God-of-War-Handsome trainer’s brother, is the mastermind behind Andrea’s kidnapping. You think he and his perky gal could be in on it?” Evie rubbed her chin in thought. “I didn’t get any bad vibes from them. Not even a blink of subterfuge. That takes a lot of talent, or they are honestly not involved. Or sociopaths.” She shrugged and Conrad fidgeted. “I didn’t feel that either.”

Now completely recovered from his ten-flight climb, Pete threw in his two cents worth. “If they were, that would mean some very long-range planning. Doesn’t fit their image in my book.”

“Nothing fits, damn it!” Conrad’s rage welled up inside as he crumpled his empty beer can and tossed it near the trashcan. “We got a masseur at one of the highest priced clubs in Texas who is an accomplice to a kidnapping, and also wanted in Louisiana for murdering two police officers. This German trainer’s brother supposedly set this thing up and what else? How would any of these people know anything about backdoor codes for Iron Shield? They knew it by name, when they called me.”

Simon played the bad guy. “Maybe Andrea mentioned…”

Conrad cut him off. “She knows better than to talk about classified shit to friends. Even close friends, definitely not some couple at her gym.”

“Maybe she didn’t have a choice.” Evie jumped in with a supportive arm squeeze for her lover.

“They kidnapped her for the codes,” Pete added. “They had to have known about the project ahead of time to set this all up.” The very unhealthy theory Pete was developing made Conrad’s skin itch. “Could we have a leak at GST?” Pete immediately discounted his theory. “Our people are so well vetted, Morehead knows the size underwear they wear and their blood type. It can’t be one of our own.”

Now it was Bull’s turn to weigh in. “How much would these codes be worth, if they got into the wrong hands?”

Both Pete and Conrad replied at the same time. “Millions.”

“That’d do it for me. People’d sell their folks for a lot less.” The group all looked toward the ex-gang member turned butler, personal bodyguard, and all-around intimidating fellow for one of the richest game developers in the country. “I’m just saying…” He shrugged at Conrad.

“No. He’s right. Money’s a hell of an incentive.” Conrad was going over their employee roster in his head, looking for any connection. “Pete, can you get Morehead on it? Immediately, Pete picked up his cell phone and moved away to make the call.

“And, I’m gonna go back to the club and talk to the girlfriend. She seemed so…open and caring. If she’s faking it, I’ll know.” Conrad nodded his agreement.

Pete hollered from across the room, “I’ll drop ya on my way to Morehead’s office.”

“Bull, stay with Simon. He’s out of his depth here.” Evie whispered to Bull as she grabbed her bag.

“Roger that, my Amazon Queen. Your wish is my command.” Bull bowed.

“And stop that nonsense, right now.” She shook a fist at him with a laugh. “Men!”

“If you don’t make it back by noon, you can meet us at the marina.” Bull hollered after the two heading down the stairs.

Bull’s glance at the elevator with some trepidation had Simon asking, “How long has your friend been living here?”

“About three years.” Conrad answered absently, watching Simon on the computer. “Is that a government satellite site, Simon?”

Simon grinned up at the hovering Conrad. “Of course not. I would never hack into a secure government satellite data site. That would be illegal, Mr. McIntyre.”

“Can that be traced back here?” Conrad recognized the data stream. It was a secure site and it was definitely government owned.

“Please, I’m not that clumsy. And how can anyone trace anything back to us? We were never there.” As one of the world’s best developers giggled to himself maniacally, Conrad shook his head and stepped away. Plausible deniability was a good thing.

****

Andrea’s legs felt like blocks of cement, but she continued to kick as hard as she could. Her little raft was making progress, helped by a stiff current heading right toward an island with a sizeable hill in the middle. Her tongue was parched, and she couldn’t avoid swallowing saltwater as she paddled and kicked. She heard the crashing of waves just about the same time a triangle shaped fin broke the surface in front of her.

Shark.

“Oh shit!” She scrambled up on the tiny raft, pulling as much of her body out of the water as she could. Her feet still dangled beneath the surface as the fin circled her raft. “You didn’t paddle all this way to feed a damn fish, Jane Doe!” She scrunched a little higher. The raft dipped and tilted precariously with each tiny move. “No, God. Please don’t let this happen. I don’t want to die as fish bait!” She shook her fist toward the sky. “I don’t know who I am, but I don’t think I deserve this.”

“Come, little fish. Come play with me.” An enticing voice drifted across the waves and sank beneath the surface. “You wouldn’t like the taste of those dirty, nasty human feet. Come, and I’ll show you a lovely school of squirrelfish all sweet and tender. Waiting just for you.”

Jane could hear the voice but couldn’t believe it. “I’m losing my mind.” She whispered as she watched the fin move away. “Nope. I’ve already lost it.” She crouched on her raft a reasonable amount of time before she returned to paddling and kicking. The waves pulled at her arms and legs, crashing just a few yards ahead. But it wasn’t a beach; it was a reef. “Death by shark attack, or torn up on a reef? Neither one is very appealing.”

Jane crawled up as high as she could on her gas tank. There was a break in the waves to her left. Try to ride over the reef on her raft, or swim for it and hope she could make the opening?

A voice in her mind shouted, “swim for it. You can make it.” She felt a gentle shove and slid into the water as the current separated her and the raft. “No choice now.” Jane put her head down and swam for all she was worth, praying the shark would not come back before she made the shore.

The rate at which she sped through the water was a complete surprise. Her long, strong strokes and fluid motion said competitive swimmer. A picture of a skinny girl standing on a block wearing a speedo and a first-place medal flashed through her mind as she burst through the gap in the reef. The water was warmer and less turbulent inside the reef and soon her feet were touching sand. Exhausted, Jane climbed above the waterline and fell to the sand, panting and completely spent. Sleep overwhelmed her before she could even tell her silly mind thanks for the decision.

****

“She’ll be fine from here, my love.”

“Of course, Grady, dear. She’s stronger than she knows, and she’s a survivor. Just like you.” Amee leaned close to the love of her life, and death, placing a sweet kiss on the smooth cheek of the man she would spend eternity with.

Above the sleeping figure on the beach, a tiny lightning bolt zinged across the heavens. Instead of thunder, a high-pitched giggle could be heard for miles.