Page 25 of Beneath Still Waters

“Duke, it might be anchored in place.”

He nodded. “That’s what we’re assuming. The container looked to be about ten feet deep, if I had to guess. Could be that the bottom is weighted too. We won’t know until we use the pulley to bring it up to the boat.”

“How deep is the water here?” She peered over the edge.

“One hundred thirty-six feet,” one of the men answered as he zipped up his wet suit and leaned against the rail of the boat.

“What’s he doing?” Ferd controlled her panic, barely.

“He has to go into the water to hook up the winch. Hopefully, below the surface, there are more than the one handle we cansee. Otherwise, we’ll need to figure out a different way or risk breaking it.”

Ploop.

While she’d been distracted by Duke, wetsuit man had gone in. She inched closer to the edge. Now with someone there, she could see a few feet under the surface. The skin of his forehead contrasted brightly against the black fabric protecting him from the cold water. Within a minute, he broke the surface and gave a thumbs-up sign. “Send down the hooks. Two.” He dove again by pushing slightly upward, then folding over and heading straight down.

Prickles covered her arms and she rubbed them, even with a jacket to keep her dry. Everyone else on the boat knew what they were doing. They weren’t nervous. She didn’t have to be either.

Carl positioned himself at the winch handle, gripping it with both hands. He waited for the signal, then cranked slowly, straining against the weight. Another man came to help, and he moved over to allow the other man to assist.

When the bottom of the box came into view, all the men on the boat except the two working the lift sent up a cheer. Two other men reached out to steady the box. At ten feet tall, the winch wouldn’t be high enough. They’d have to hook it at the bottom somehow and swing it aboard, then lower the top onto the deck.

Ferd pressed her back against the wall behind her. When had the boat tilted like that? She couldn't find solid footing. She was slipping. Her throat tightened and she reached for the little cord to release the air canister to blow up her life vest. Duke was too busy coordinating all the men. She’d have to keep an eye on the issue all by herself. Surely the captain would say something if they were in danger of capsizing, right?

One of the pressurized air canisters on the box exploded, sending shards of sharp plastic into the men. Blood. Mayhem.Ferd screamed and crouched, covering herself as the box sank beneath the surface and quickly out of sight.

TWENTY-ONE

“Idon’t know how to feel about the fact that you have a blow dryer.” Ferd stared at Duke’s well-appointed bathroom in his immaculate apartment.

“Never said you could use it.” He flashed her a smile.

She opened her mouth to protest, then realized he was teasing her. Teasing. “Okay, you got me. Can I use your hair dryer?” She scrunched her sopping wet curls and drops fell to his clean floor.

“As long as you don’t do that again, yes. In fact, use anything in my home, just don’t do that again.”

Duke’s sense of humor was so different. Not bad, just unique. So different from Connor, or Dad, or even Hunter . . .Nope. Not going there.He may have deadpanned his comeback, but his eyes told her he enjoyed every second of seeing how she’d react to his real personality.

“Thanks. I won’t leave a mess.” She peeled her jacket off and hung it on a hook in the bathroom. “At least I brought extra clothes with me.”

“Good. You’ll need them. I’ve decided I can’t put off going to his apartment again any longer. We’ve seen so many versions of Bailey. I need to know who this guy really was.”

“Good plan.” She closed the door and flipped on the vent fan.

All the time on the boat, she’d done her best to hide her distress, but now she didn’t have to. Her fingers were bright white and shook from the cold. Looking in the mirror, her cheeks were far too pale.Hot water it is.She twisted the knob until it was almost to the hottest setting and pulled it, releasing the flow.

After a minute to let it heat to the fullest, she got in. Duke’s soap choices were interesting. She’d expected a guy like him to use a bar of soap with a washcloth, but he had three different body washes, two different shampoos, and even an older bottle of conditioner with yellowing around the cap, shoved to the back.

Someone else had lived here with him. When she’d broken up with Hunter, she’d needed friends and hadn’t had them. Anna had been far away, back at Wayside with her own troubles. Ferd lifted the bottle and deeply sniffed the conditioner. Apple blossoms. Not a scent she’d ever encountered near Duke. In fact, she’d never once noted what he smelled like.

But if it had been apple blossoms, she might have given him a jab about it. Now she was glad she hadn’t. Breakups hurt. She carefully put the bottle back exactly as she found it and finger-combed through her hair instead of using the scent of someone who might give him bad memories.

After toweling off and changing into clean dry clothes, she met Duke in the living room. The apartment was everything she had expected. Mostly furniture and bare walls except for a glass-beaded red rose hanging above the television. It looked handmade.

He’d already changed and re-styled his hair. He looked up at her, then back down at what he was doing. “Find everything okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.” She sat down in the large armchair to his right. “When did you want to go?”

“Thought we could grab something to eat here first. I’ve got everything we need for sandwiches.” He cocked his toward his cavernous kitchen. “Assuming you like sandwiches. I never know these days if I have to be careful what I suggest.”