Karen Kirst - Danger In The Deep

“I do, too.”

“This is Captain Johnson.” Olivia gestured to Brady. “Roman and I are working together on the breeding program I told you about.”

Brady initiated a handshake. He guessed Roman to be in his late thirties, early forties. He had wavy brown hair and a short, scruffy beard streaked with silver and reddish gold. Like Olivia, he wore khakis and a blue polo bearing the aquarium emblem.

“I heard about your dive,” Roman said, his bushy brows descending over sharp gray eyes. “Any chance you got our eggs before you ran out of air?”

The guy’s disregard for Olivia’s welfare irked Brady.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” she responded good-naturedly. “Why don’t you get your dive cert and retrieve them yourself?”

“Touché.” Through the floor-to-ceiling glass, a car pulled into view and honked. “That’s my ride.”

“See you tomorrow.”

As they entered a bunker-like underground corridor linking the aquarium’s river and ocean buildings, Olivia shot Brady a sideways glance. “Roman’s grumpiness has earned him a nickname around here. We call him ‘Gruffy’ behind his back.”

“Do you like working with him?” His voice echoed off the stark cement walls and floor.

“He’s dependable. I can’t recall a time he’s come in late or called in sick.”

“Would you say he’s an equal contributor to your project?”

She fiddled with one of her silver dolphin earrings. “While he doesn’t generate ideas, he’s a decent problem solver.”

The corridor was a dank, musty space that seemed to stretch on for miles. Emerging into the Ocean Adventure lobby, he breathed in fresh, warm air. They navigated the escalators—turned off for the night—and various exhibit areas before entering the office wing.

“This is James’s.” A slim glass window showed the room was empty. “Mine is farther down.”

Located at a midway point, her box of an office was made smaller by shelves stuffed with trade books and magazines. Colorful works of art showcasing her Native American heritage were wedged into every available wall space. As she retrieved her phone and made the call to James, Brady studied a smooth, black pottery bowl with a carving of two feathers. He’d heard her talk about the Qualla Arts and Crafts cooperative, located in Cherokee, and the fact her mother crafted baskets to sell there.

He noticed the change in her voice as she ended the call. “What is it?”

Sliding her phone into her pocket, she met his quizzical gaze and shrugged. “James said my cylinders are in his office. He spoke with the equipment company here in town, and a rep is supposed to come on Monday.”

“Do you have a key to his office?”

“There’s a master set in the meeting room.”

When she’d retrieved the key, they entered and she flicked on the light.

“There are cylinders, all right.” Brady pointed to the pair propped against the desk chair. “They look identical to the ones by the dumpster.”

She performed a quick inspection. “Except there isn’t a scratch.”

“Walk me through what happened right before your dive.”

“I changed into my wet suit. I joined Erin in the tank area, and we did a methodical check of our equipment. My cylinders were full. The regulator was free of salt buildup and debris.” Sagging against the desk edge, she spread her hands. “I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. At least not with my gear.”

“Which somehow ended up in a garbage bag outside the other building. This building has its own trash area?”

“Yes, of course.”

“You said you received a phone call right before the dive?”

“I was told a representative from AZA, the American Zoo Association, needed to speak to me about the upcoming gala. It’s an important night for Roman and I, since we’re presenting our findings. We’re hopeful the success we’ve had until this point will net further support and other aquariums will follow suit.”

“Who summoned you?”

“One of the secretarial staff. Sarah.” She ran her palms over her pants. “When I got to a phone, there was no one on the line. I assumed they’d gotten impatient and would call back later. When I returned to the dive dock, Erin was suited up and waiting for me.”

“She said she was in the restroom for a few minutes.”

Olivia contemplated the cylinders as if they were bombs set to explode. “You think someone switched mine out for these defective ones.”

“I do. The question is who and why? Are you and Erin on good terms?”

“Erin’s a sweetheart. She wouldn’t do this.”

“Are there security cameras in the tank area?”

She popped up. “There are two.”

Together, they headed to the security office, but it was locked. The one guard on duty overnight spent much of his time touring the premises.

“It’ll have to wait until morning,” she stated. “We’ve been gone long enough, as it is.”

“This is important, Olivia.”

“So is your kids’ experience. I’m not going to waste another half hour or more tracking down the guard. It’ll keep.”

Brady stifled his complaints. Olivia was clearly having trouble accepting that her safe haven had been tainted. Until they could view those video feeds and get those discarded tanks to the police, he’d make a point to stay near her.

Weariness pulled Olivia closer to sleep, even as she continued to ponder her predicament. There could be no denying someone in her world wanted her to suffer. A devastating thought. In the months since Derek’s death, the aquarium had become her refuge and the employees her support net.

Brady had remained within arm’s reach of her the entire evening, as if he were her covert bodyguard. His closeness had increased her unease. At least the kids hadn’t seemed to notice anything amiss. Their interactions with Brady revealed the depth of their respect and genuine admiration for him. And it was clear he cared about them, too. There was nothing forced or stiff about his demeanor when he engaged with them. It was a side she wished she could see more often.

Despite the HVAC system hum, laughter trickled down from the landing above. Everyone was supposed to be in their sleeping bags, not wandering through the building. Olivia pushed her blankets aside and, slipping on her shoes, left the cot she’d situated at the lower end of the tunnel. Lamplight outside the massive, floor-to-ceiling glass wall cast enough light for her to navigate the motionless escalator.

At the top, she discovered a high school couple in the penguin exhibit. The boy and girl weren’t paying attention to the penguins. Hands entwined, they were whispering and laughing, their shy smiles evidence of their mutual crush.

Olivia cleared her throat, and they leaped apart.

“Time to return to the tunnel, you two,” she said lightly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The girl’s head bowed, she scurried away, the boy on her heels.

“Young love,” she muttered, recalling the naivete of her teenage years.

Behind the glass, she watched a penguin glide beneath the water and perform tricks. Olivia never lost her fascination for God’s amazing creatures. His imagination and wisdom were limitless. She didn’t know how much time passed before the penguin tired of his antics and returned to the rock ledge.

Her watch warned her there weren’t many hours left to sleep. She abandoned the exhibit and skirted a thick blue support beam. A faint sound, like the scrape of a shoe against drywall, reached her. Her nape prickled. Whirling around, she searched the shadows and willed her heartbeat to slow. There weren’t any boogeymen out to get her. Her tumultuous day was making her imagine the worst.