Suzanne Cox - A Different Kind of Man

“I don’t want you sitting on bottom.”

“Not gonna happen.”

Grabbing the slate and pencil hanging from her BC, he jotted compass coordinates. “Use your compass and work this grid. I don’t know how deep it is here but don’t go deeper than fifty feet.”

Emalea flashed him a thumbs-up then settled her mask on her face. She placed the headphones attached to the metal detector over her ears before wading into the murky water. Her first thought was how many times she’d have to wash her hair to get rid of the gunk.

Two flicks on the hose had the air adjusted in her BC jacket and she turned on her headlight. Now she was ready to work. Kicking hard, she made her way around the river bottom in small squares as Jackson had planned. Nothing but thick brown water swirled around her while the staccato beats of the metal detector sounded in her ears. The darkness began to close in and her chest tightened. She forced herself to breathe slowly and repeat, “Stay calm, this is important.” Her pulse slowed and she began the painstaking process again.

With only one small section of her search incomplete, Emalea had nearly decided the gun wasn’t there. Then the beeping of the machine changed. Her hand plunged into the mud, fingers connecting with something solid. Even through her gloves, she could tell it wasn’t a gun. Probing farther, she realized it was a heavy cloth, probably a bag that had fallen off someone’s boat.

She grasped the strap of the bundle, but it was wrapped around what she thought was a tree limb. Giving the bag a jerk, she sent silt swirling into the cone of light from her lamp. The thing felt as if it weighed a ton. Whatever it was would be the devil to get to the bank. Her fins planted in the mud, she hauled at the object. Something was coming toward her. It was… Oh God, a man’s face. And most of the flesh was missing from one side.

Letting go, she pushed for the surface. At the first brush of late evening sun on her skin, she flung the regulator aside sucking in the warm thick air. When she exhaled, the scream that had been bubbling all the way from her toes went with it. In her peripheral vision she saw Jackson shove the deputy holding her safety line to the ground. Then he grabbed the line himself and pulled until she was at the bottom of the launch. Her legs wouldn’t seem to work so she stayed on her hands and knees, gasping.

A huge pair of hands jerked her gear off and carried her to the back seat of the sheriff’s cruiser. Jackson swept scraggly wet hair away from her cheeks, until she could at last get her eyes to focus.

“Everything’s fine, Emalea. Just relax, then tell me what happened.”

Those brown eyes should have revived harrowing images of surging, dirt-filled water, but they didn’t. She could have happily, peacefully drowned in these depths.

“It’s… There’s another body.”

Jackson shot a look at Matt, who leaned into the car.

“I found something that felt like a bag. I think the arm of whoever it is might be tangled in the strap. When I yanked it really hard, a corpse floated right here.” She held a hand in front of her face, her body shivering uncontrollably.

Her wet suit would soak Jackson’s clothes, but the thought of protesting never crossed her mind when he pulled her close. She was beyond questioning why.

“Get someone in here to recover that body before the current takes it,” Jackson said to Matt.

“No, I can do it.” Dragging someone else in to finish her job wasn’t an option.

Arms tightened around her. “You’re not going back down there.”

She pushed him away. “Of course I am. I know where to find the body. Send me with an extra line and I’ll tie it off. You can pull in the body and the bag.”

“I’ve got another line in my trunk,” Matt said and headed for the back of the car.

Jackson moved with a swiftness Emalea hadn’t expected of such a big man. With one hand to the shoulder, he spun Matt around. “I said she isn’t going to do it.”

Matt spread his feet and stared. Jackson’s hands were clenched into fists, and she waited for him to take a swing. But Cypress Landing’s sheriff wasn’t one to back down, even when he was outsized. Matt continued to stand his ground.

Where was the man she’d shared a glass of tea with just a week ago? She’d been right to be afraid when he’d mentioned people letting loose their bad side. Emalea shivered and this time not from the cold water or the thought of the dead body she’d pulled from the mud. Jackson’s face was tight and the anger in his eyes seemed to have a life of its own.

Finally, Matt spoke, his lips thin and voice tight. “This is Emalea’s job as part of the SAR team. She said she’s willing to do it, so she will.” He paused for a moment. “I thought you told me you had a handle on this.”

Jackson’s whole body seemed to droop as he looked away. He strode quietly to the river as if he’d forgotten both of them. Had a handle on what? she wondered.

Matt retrieved the rope from the trunk and handed it to her. “He has a problem with his temper, so you steer clear.” He stood in front of her for a moment before going to answer a call on the radio. He didn’t bother to explain what had just happened, but one thing was obvious. She couldn’t risk getting to know Jackson Cooper.

As she pulled on her gear, Jackson appeared beside her. She would have preferred to ignore him, but he seemed intent on trying to help her.

“I’ll tie the bag and the body to this extra line, then you can pull both to the bank,” she told him.

He took the rope from her and knotted it to her vest. “This is the kind of stuff that will give you nightmares,” he said in a gruff whisper. His breath was warm against her ear. She hadn’t realized he was standing so close.

“They’ll have to get in line.” Their breath intermingled, and Jackson leaned toward her then blinked and quickly straightened. Emalea waded into the murky river again. More afraid of what was on the bank than what was in the water.

Using her compass as a guide, she went immediately to the spot where the body had been. Of course, the current had shifted it. As the minutes ticked by, she was certain the men on the shore were getting more anxious. She wasn’t exactly thrilled with the slow pace.

Just when she was beginning to think she’d never find the bag or the body, she felt something. This time, she grasped a pant leg. Continuing to delve around the muck, her hands landed on the bag. She found what felt like the handle and ran her extra line through it. Now for the worst part. Locating the leg again, she inched her hand along until she found a belt loop. Not allowing her brain to dwell on exactly what she was doing, Emalea knotted the line onto the loop then swam away. She surfaced and waved to the men.

As she started toward the boat launch, she felt herself being propelled through the water. Glancing ahead, she saw Jackson pulling at the safety line hooked to her vest while a few feet away deputies hauled in the body and bag. With his help, she was on the bank in a matter of seconds.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, taking off her gear.

He stepped forward to help her but she waved him off.

“I’ve got it. I just want to get this stuff off me. I’m sure they need you over there.” She tipped her head toward the bank where the body was lying.

He took a step away, then paused. “I’d like to see you before you leave.”

She frowned. “Sorry, but I’m going straight home to bathe for an hour or three. I imagine you’ll be tied up here a while.”

For an instant Emalea thought she heard him sigh. But he left without another word. Struggling to her truck, she dumped her gear in the back and slammed the tailgate. She’d spend the first hour washing the dirty water from her diving equipment. As the truck rumbled down the road, she wondered if anything would wash from her mind the image of the body floating in front of her.