He just
doesn’t want a family, I guess.”
“How noble,” Genevieve muttered.
“What is the matter with you? I’d think you’d want to work with someone who wasn’t
hitting on you all the time. Everything with him is all business. Though I guess he’s been
a little hard on you over the…what you thought you saw in the water.”
“A little hard? He thinks I’m certifiable.”
Bethany giggled, sobered quickly and apologized. “Genevieve…we’ve all seen what we
haven’t really seen in the water at some time.”
Yes, but have we all awoken soaked in seawater, with seaweed in our beds? she nearly
asked aloud.
“Let’s get something to eat. We have to make the first discovery. And we have to make it
today,” she said, catching her friend’s arm and urging her toward the tiki bar.
Thor knew the history; he never went into anything without studying every shred of
information about the project. Still, for some reason—perhaps to enforce the part about
avoiding destruction of the reef in any way—they were seated on and around the picnic
tables and benches by the docks, listening to what they knew already.
If ever a man had looked like he should be a professor of history, it was Henry Sheridan.
He wore the kind of glasses that had Coke-bottle lenses, black frames, and, sure enough,
he must have broken them, because they were held together between the eyes by a Band-
Aid. His hair—a combination of mousy-brown and gray—stuck up in tufts from his head,
without benefit of mousse. His face was very thin, ascetic, and his form was equally
meager. Thor had the feeling the man seldom thought about eating, so lost was he on
some intellectual plane.
Coast Guard Lieutenant Larry Preston was the antithesis of Sheridan. He was big, tall and
hardy. He could swim and dive with the best of them, and though his job was to see that
they followed the dictates of the state, Thor was pretty sure that history itself bored him.
Preston liked action. He was wearing sunglasses and a uniform hat, along with his white
shorts and shirt, and beneath those glasses, Thor had a feeling the man was keeping his
eyes closed.
To the credit of the divers from both boats, they were at least putting on the pretense of
rapt attention.
“As you all know, I’m certain, we estimate that there are at least two thousand
undiscovered wrecks in the waters around the state. But the sea is harsh. Ships don’t
usually sink intact. Winds and rains crack masts, and timbers split. On the way down,
ships are at the mercy of tides and currents and their own weight and construction.
Sometimes small vessels fare better, but huge ships—even broken up—can be an easier
find. A ship such as the Marie Josephine might have left a field of discovery a mile long.
She was brutalized by pirates in the midst of a storm. It’s more than likely her remains
are in far more than two or three pieces. Despite that, and as you’re aware, we’re not
going in with any vacuuming devices. Especially since we’re working on nothing more
than speculation right now. It’s likely that, should you succeed in finding the ship’s
resting place, you’ll begin to find small relics. Coins, of course. Pottery, porcelain. Last year, as Thor can tell you, we unearthed a Civil War barge in the St. Johns river because
an 1860s razor was found. By Thor.” Sheridan nodded his way in acknowledgment.
Lizzie applauded, and Alex Mathews let out an appreciative whistle.
“Cool,” Bethany murmured, offering him her generous smile.
Thor felt restless, anxious to be out on the water. He found himself studying Genevieve
Wallace, who was staring straight ahead at Sheridan, her face betraying not so much as a
flicker of emotion. The woman was fucking weird. She walked out in a nightshirt and
jumped into the water?
While all kinds of noises were coming from her cottage?
“Raccoons,” he heard someone whisper.
Victor Damon was leaning casually
doesn’t want a family, I guess.”
“How noble,” Genevieve muttered.
“What is the matter with you? I’d think you’d want to work with someone who wasn’t
hitting on you all the time. Everything with him is all business. Though I guess he’s been
a little hard on you over the…what you thought you saw in the water.”
“A little hard? He thinks I’m certifiable.”
Bethany giggled, sobered quickly and apologized. “Genevieve…we’ve all seen what we
haven’t really seen in the water at some time.”
Yes, but have we all awoken soaked in seawater, with seaweed in our beds? she nearly
asked aloud.
“Let’s get something to eat. We have to make the first discovery. And we have to make it
today,” she said, catching her friend’s arm and urging her toward the tiki bar.
Thor knew the history; he never went into anything without studying every shred of
information about the project. Still, for some reason—perhaps to enforce the part about
avoiding destruction of the reef in any way—they were seated on and around the picnic
tables and benches by the docks, listening to what they knew already.
If ever a man had looked like he should be a professor of history, it was Henry Sheridan.
He wore the kind of glasses that had Coke-bottle lenses, black frames, and, sure enough,
he must have broken them, because they were held together between the eyes by a Band-
Aid. His hair—a combination of mousy-brown and gray—stuck up in tufts from his head,
without benefit of mousse. His face was very thin, ascetic, and his form was equally
meager. Thor had the feeling the man seldom thought about eating, so lost was he on
some intellectual plane.
Coast Guard Lieutenant Larry Preston was the antithesis of Sheridan. He was big, tall and
hardy. He could swim and dive with the best of them, and though his job was to see that
they followed the dictates of the state, Thor was pretty sure that history itself bored him.
Preston liked action. He was wearing sunglasses and a uniform hat, along with his white
shorts and shirt, and beneath those glasses, Thor had a feeling the man was keeping his
eyes closed.
To the credit of the divers from both boats, they were at least putting on the pretense of
rapt attention.
“As you all know, I’m certain, we estimate that there are at least two thousand
undiscovered wrecks in the waters around the state. But the sea is harsh. Ships don’t
usually sink intact. Winds and rains crack masts, and timbers split. On the way down,
ships are at the mercy of tides and currents and their own weight and construction.
Sometimes small vessels fare better, but huge ships—even broken up—can be an easier
find. A ship such as the Marie Josephine might have left a field of discovery a mile long.
She was brutalized by pirates in the midst of a storm. It’s more than likely her remains
are in far more than two or three pieces. Despite that, and as you’re aware, we’re not
going in with any vacuuming devices. Especially since we’re working on nothing more
than speculation right now. It’s likely that, should you succeed in finding the ship’s
resting place, you’ll begin to find small relics. Coins, of course. Pottery, porcelain. Last year, as Thor can tell you, we unearthed a Civil War barge in the St. Johns river because
an 1860s razor was found. By Thor.” Sheridan nodded his way in acknowledgment.
Lizzie applauded, and Alex Mathews let out an appreciative whistle.
“Cool,” Bethany murmured, offering him her generous smile.
Thor felt restless, anxious to be out on the water. He found himself studying Genevieve
Wallace, who was staring straight ahead at Sheridan, her face betraying not so much as a
flicker of emotion. The woman was fucking weird. She walked out in a nightshirt and
jumped into the water?
While all kinds of noises were coming from her cottage?
“Raccoons,” he heard someone whisper.
Victor Damon was leaning casually
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