Page 61 of The Captain
The diver leaned forward, pointing out the window. “There!” he called, his voice sharp through the headsets.
We all looked. Just beyond the last sandbar, a dark shadow moved under the water. Big. My first thought was a whale, and I asked the dumb question before I could stop myself. “That a whale?”
Camille shook her head, her eyes glued to the shape, her phone already out, snapping pictures. “Wrong shape. Wrong size. Too angular.”
The pilot dipped the helo lower, the rotors thumping, the water rippling below us. Camille kept filming, her face set, her fingers steady despite the vibration.
“Get closer,” she said, her voice tight with focus.
The shadow shifted, fast, like a manta ray scuttling across the ocean floor, then vanished into the deeper blue. I blinked, my pulse kicking up.
“You sure that wasn’t an animal?” I asked, my voice low, not wanting to sound like an idiot again.
Camille replayed the footage on her phone, zooming in, her brow furrowed. “No,” she said, her tone certain. “Animals don’t move like that. Too mechanical. Too … deliberate.”
The chief beamed, slapping his knee. “See, I told you!” he said to the crew. “Pay up, assholes.”
The diver elbowed him, grinning. “Maybe you should go back to school, Chief. Become a marine biologist or some shit.”
The chief flipped him off, then turned to Camille. “Helpful, Doc? What’s the plan?”
Camille nodded, her eyes still on her phone, her mind clearly racing. “Very helpful,” she said. “If that’s what I think it is, Jacob owes you a yacht, not just a ride on one. And at 1400, I’m having a very one-sided conversation with the Navy.”
I looked at her, her focus like a beam, and damn if it didn’t make me hard. Her fire, her fight—it was everything I’d been drawn to from the start.
My confidence roared now, a full-on blaze. Whatever that shadow was, we were going to crack it open, together. The helo climbed, banking back toward the park, the coastline stretching below us like a map we were finally starting to read.
I leaned closer to Camille, my shoulder brushing hers, and grinned. “You’re gonna light them up, aren’t you?”
She glanced at me, her eyes glinting with that same fire. “Bet your ass I am.”
The crew laughed, the chief spitting into his bottle again. “Give ‘em hell, Doc.”
The Charleston Harbor Approach Channel faded behind us, the water still clear, the shadow gone but burned into my head. I didn’t know what we’d seen, but I knew it was trouble—trouble I was ready to face, with Camille at my side and a crew that had my back. My blood was up, my focus sharp, and I felt like I was exactly where I needed to be.
27
CAMILLE
We came off the helo hot with proof I could feel in my bones.
Not a whale. Not a ray. A shadow that moved like a decision and then was gone.
“The Navy’s been holding out,” I told Jacob over the rotor wash, already reaching for my phone. “Or they’re about to pretend they didn’t see what we just saw.”
On the walk to the Jeep I fired off a text to the crew thread.
Me:Big break. Eyes on something mechanical in the corridor. Details soon. Kogia calf steady? Bottlenose breath rate?
Becca, instantly:Calf stable. Bottlenose breathing like she read the manual. We’re good. Go be dangerous.
I believed her because faith in your people is part of the job.
“Bungalow first,” I said, climbing in. “If they’re going to pull me into a room with epaulets, I want to look like a woman they’ll remember when I start handing out assignments.”
“Yes, Dr. Allard,” Jacob said, amused. Then softer. “You were born to light rooms like that on fire.”
“Flatterer.”
