Chapter Eight

Day Four, Afternoon

"You wanted to watch the movie again, so you put it away," Kate told Ryan after they finished The Little Mermaid for the hundredth time, although that might be an understatement. Ryan had been enthralled with the latest version of the classic since Kate and Sam took her to see it.

Kate's father, Greg, taught Ryan to play Yahtzee at around three years old, and she rarely lost now. More than anything, she had luck on her side. Kate had never seen so many Yahtzees thrown by one person. They teased Ryan about being the Yahtzee princess and they suffered through her favorite movie when she won. This time Sam snuck off quietly and Ryan hadn't noticed.

Leaving her daughter to place the video back in its case, Kate wheeled herself out on deck and looked across the blue water. The ocean had settled, and everything appeared calm. Kate didn't understand why an uneasy feeling stayed with her. She thought about the two missing teens. People drowned on the water; it was one of the dangers the ocean posed. Great whites mouthed and nosed boats but they did not tear them apart. The attack on the boat made no sense unless the sharks were going after the kids, which really made no sense. Her father had sounded worried, which didn't alleviate Kate's fear either.

She glanced at her hands on the sides of her wheelchair. That was it. The old Kate had never been afraid of the water, even when large sharks were sighted. She'd been in shark cages and had also done free swimming with the giant creatures. The accident and the subsequent loss of the use of her legs left her skeptical about what she was capable of. Even if she hired help, could she take care of herself without Sam in her life? She refused to continue the marriage simply because she needed a caregiver. Their future together, if they stayed together, hinged on the potential for salvaging their relationship and the repercussions of Kate's choice, particularly considering its impact on Ryan.

Her thoughts drifted back to Sam's confession.

"It wasn't what you think," he said during one of their many arguments after his confession. "She meant nothing. I never made promises to her."

"Stop," Kate held her hand up and then placed it back down. She was too worried she would punch him. Slapping was simply too good for the stranger standing in front of her. "I don't want to know details, I just need to know why."

That's when Sam's face took on the blank expression that she would grow accustomed to whenever the conversation came up. At least his blank face was easier to bear than the guilty one.

"I swear she meant nothing," he repeated in anguish completely misunderstanding her agony.

Kate's shock ran too deep to even put her thoughts into words, but anger was setting in and she would give them a go.

"Why are you even telling me this? What does it say about you?" Her voice rose even more. "You, a married man, slept with a woman you didn't love. Was it to hurt me?" Kate used the back of her hand to wipe away her tears. "Do you hate me? Is that it?"

"I love you, I swear. I don't know why I did it, but it was entirely my fault."

She stepped closer, her finger almost touching his nose. "Hell yes it's your fault. I thought we had a good marriage." Air caught in her throat. "I thought you loved me."

"I do, I swear it."

"You did this to our family. You don't know the meaning of the word." She'd stormed down the hall and locked the bedroom door to the room they had shared since they'd bought the house. She hadn't slept that night. She'd cried and thought of ways to get back at the other woman. Not that she would, and the longer she thought about it, the more she realized it wasn't the woman's fault. It was Sam's. And maybe her own.

A solid thud vibrated slightly through Kate's chair and into her arms that were holding the sides. It came from beneath the boat and brought her out of the horrible memory of that fight. She wondered if Sam was below deck in the engine room. It was the only place she couldn't access with her wheelchair. She waited but heard nothing more. A few minutes later, Sam fired up the yacht's engine. After a brief grinding noise that wasn't normal, they jolted forward, sending Kate's wheelchair toward the gunwale. She took a firm grip on the rail and looked over her shoulder through the window and saw Sam, who stood at the control center. He gave the throttle another try, and the weird sound came again. He lifted his hands when he saw her watching.

She wheeled back inside and made her way past the galley to her husband.

"Shut it down and try again," she said when she saw him studying the programmable logic controller known as the PLC. It was the nerve center of the yacht and showed everything from fuel consumption and engine performance to water levels and available solar power.

Sam pointed to the temperature monitor and shut down the engine.

"It's a little high but still within norms," Kate said as she closely examined all the readings. The engine turned over, and Sam moved the throttle the slightest bit. They heard the sound again.

"We need to use the two-ways," Kate said, rolling toward the shelf where they charged when not in use. "Go down to the engine room and listen to the noise and see if you can identify it."

"You want me to turn the engine off again?" he asked when she handed him the walkie-talkie.

"I'll do it. Let me know when you get there, and I'll start it back up." Sam headed to the engine room while Kate waited. Ryan was in her bunk, most likely watching The Little Mermaid again.

The radio crackled. "Nothing obvious down here. Turn the engine over."

Kate pushed the button that started the motor, and it sounded normal. "Anything?" she asked.

"No. Try the throttle."

Kate pushed the button on the locking latch then pushed the throttle forward. The yacht gave the same jolt it had when she was on deck.

"Shut it down," Sam called through the two-way.

"The engine temperature went up another notch," she told him when he came back into the control room.

"I think we could be caught up on something," Sam said.

Kate had been thinking the same thing.

"I'll gear up on deck then take a look at the propellers." Sam walked out of the control room after she nodded.

Kate wheeled herself to the deck and watched as Sam opened a deck mounted cargo container and began unpacking the scuba gear. He'd gone through certification years ago at Greg's insistence. At the same time, Kate enrolled Ryan in a bubble training course for young divers, but her daughter thought it was stupid because they could only go a few feet below the surface. Her grandpops took her much further down and gave her proper credit for how seriously Ryan took scuba safety. Sadly, Kate had lied about Ryan's age to get her into the course because she had still been too young. Her child was far beyond most children when it came to anything ocean, and Kate should have saved the money.

"Don't forget a knife," Kate told Sam when he was ready. She turned her wheelchair slightly and refused to examine the water's surface. The worries she'd had were stupid, and tonight with wine, she would laugh at herself.

She wheeled over and rummaged in the container, pulling out a sheathed knife and placed it in his outstretched hand. He attached it to his waist strap and checked the tank gage. He placed the mouthpiece into his mouth after Kate followed him to the platform.

He removed it and looked at her. "Give me ten minutes," he said.

"Sounds good."

Sam fell back into the ocean, righted himself in the water, and swam beneath the boat.

Kate looked at her watch and mentally recorded the time.

"Where did Dad go?" Ryan asked within seconds of her father disappearing from sight.

"He's checking to see if something is caught in the propellers," Kate said.

"Damned fishermen," Ryan replied, the low grumble in her voice showing her anger.

"Ryan," Kate said sternly.

"I know, Mom, but Grandpops says it all the time."

"That doesn't mean you can repeat it," Kate chided. She needed to speak with her father about his language, which would get her absolutely nowhere.

Greg was a free spirited marine biologist. Kate had been raised with few rules other than those pertaining to water safety. His eyes still sparkled with the passion of his life's pursuit or at the fury over those destroying it. The approach to his work was unconventional and guided more by intuition and a heartfelt connection to marine life.

Maybe his whimsicality was why she wanted a more structured life for her daughter. The thing was, Kate was okay with just about anything her father said to Ryan and thankfully Sam felt the same way.

"They leave nets behind, and it kills the ocean," Ryan insisted with reddening cheeks and a pursed mouth that displayed true outrage.

"And that still doesn't mean you can use bad language," Kate said and checked her watch. He'd only been down for two minutes. Her bizarre imagination had to be put to rest.

"We've been hijacked by a ghost net," Ryan lamented in a sad wailing voice that made a small grin appear on her mother's lips.

"Your father will un-ghost us," Kate assured.

"If Dad brings the net up, I'm measuring it and adding it to my logbook," Ryan promised.

A small splash sounded as Sam reached the surface. He spit out his mouthpiece and grabbed the platform with one hand.

"Damnedest thing," he said. "There was a large shark caught in a driftnet, and that was caught in one of the propellers. I think it was your sky-hopping shark."

"Could you save it?" Kate asked, her worry about the large shark gone and her concern over it at the forefront.

"Too late," he said. "I cut the net trying to get it untangled from the gear shaft. I need to go back down to finish the job, but I wanted you to know that I found the problem." He placed his mouthpiece back in.

"Poor shar—." Kate didn't have a chance to finish her statement when Sam's body was hit from below.

He rose up, his chest high above the surface. His body jerked and then was pulled several feet from the boat before he went completely under.

Kate watched in horror as blood filled the water.