Page 9 of Austen

“Do not trust Declan.Don’t even talk to him again.He’s a criminal, Austen.”

What-ever.

She sat on the captain’s seat in the flybridge of the restored trawler, forty-three feet of head-to-toe gleaming teak (new fiberglass in places), with a freshly painted white hull, a blue racing stripe along the sides, and a Yanmar motor that hummed like a sleeping lion.The deep-blue canvas canopy flapped as the wind skimmed over the ocean.The air hinted at rain, and in the distance, a gathering of dark clouds edged the horizon.

But for now, blue skies, and according to her map, she’d nearly reached the shoal where she would anchor theFancy Freefor her dive.Yesterday’s location had netted her a massive male lobster—in DR waters, legal to catch even this late in the year.

But no Virgin Mary statue, and yes, she could admit that her hunt might be just an excuse.

It got her out of yet another yearly reminder of Margo’s death, so maybe not an excuse.A necessity.

“I’ve never heard of anything so crazy!”

Her words from the fight with Stein replayed as she slowed the boat over the shoal, some nine miles out from shore, searching for the right sandy bottom to anchor.Of course, he’d brought her to Sloppy Joe’s for their epic showdown.None of the regulars there would care if she threw down with her twin brother—and a local reggae band drowned out the argument.

Still, her “Why would you say that?”could probably have been heard across the island.

Maybe she should have held back just a little—seeing Stein on the mend didn’t mean he’d completely found his footing after yet another on-the-job injury.He still boasted his deep tan, however, and moved like a guy who’d taken his rehab seriously.He’d even helped carry her dive gear to her boat in permanent harbor in Key West Bight.She’d sprayed off her gear, then set it in the aft head to dry and locked the bridge, all while he updated her on the family news—Jack and Harper, still working on Jack’s new bus, not engaged yet, but Stein thought it might be soon.And Conrad, heading back soon to Blue Ox hockey camp, spending the summer coaching in specialty camps, still dating Penny Pepper, who had started in on another podcast about a serial killer in Alaska.

And Doyle and Tia, of course, the surprising power couple, raising funds for a new trauma center in Mariposa.

“I guess we’re the holdouts,” she’d said to Stein as they’d headed to Sloppy’s.

And that’s when Stein had launched into his comments about Declan being some sort of international handwriting mastermind, working with some evil Russian outfit trying to take over the world.

“You make him sound likePinky and the Brain.”

Stein hadn’t laughed.Just sat there, his mouth a grim slash, his blue eyes on hers.Weird—they might share the same birthday, but Stein seemed worlds different from her.He actually went looking for trouble.Thrived on it, maybe.

She preferred the wide-open spaces, the peace, of the sea.

Here.Where the sandy bottom seemed close enough to touch, despite being twenty feet down.She pointed the boat into the wind, then let out the bow anchor.It touched the seabed.Not much chop on the water, and she’d only be down for an hour, so she let out the rope to a three-to-one length, then reversed the engine and set the anchor.Turned off the boat.

But just to make sure, she headed out to the bow, along the narrow deck, and checked.Sand still clouded the water where she’d landed the anchor, but it seemed the boat was set.If she decided to stay all night, she’d set a stern anchor, but this would work for now.

Heading back to the stern, she pulled her gear out of the aft dive box and fixed her BCD onto one of her four tanks.She had topped them off with her personal O2 compressor.

“It’s not a joke, Austen.I’ve been looking into him.Declan lied to me about selling his AI program to the DOD.And there are other things too—like his meeting with foreign agents in Barcelona when we were there.And maybe even a connection to the Russian mob?—”

Their hot wings had arrived then, the reggae band stirring up the night’s festivities.How often did she get a visit from her favorite brother, and he had to tell her she was an idiot?

Okay, maybe not an idiot.Stein didn’t know how far Declan had gotten into her heart.Still...

She had sort of lost her appetite.“How do you know all this?You worked for the guy.I remember you liking him.You usually have great instincts, Steinbeck.What made you turn on him?”

At her words, Stein had pushed away the wings.Silence from him as he’d listened to the music, the wind stirring the palm trees, too much in his blue eyes for her to read.He’d shaken his head then and turned back to her.“Just...trust me.”

She’d been the one to look away then.He’d put his hand on hers, squeezed.“I’m just trying to watch your back.Keep you from getting hurt.”

She’d wanted to yank her hand away, round on him withThat’s not your job!But she got it—they’d always had a bond, and maybe if she’d let him protect her more, she wouldn’t prefer the high seas and wide skies to...well, whatever the rest of her siblings had with their recent relationships.

So, even if she couldn’t quite get her brain around Stein’s words, she knew he was right.

Declan was trouble.

Now she changed into her dive shirt and shorts, grabbed her fins and mask, affixed the control box of her Garrett Sea Hunter metal detector onto her weight belt, grabbed the headphones, picked up the wand, which she’d use to probe the sand, then lowered her inflated BCD and tank into the sea.

Then she jumped into the water.

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