The Girl Beneath the Sea (Underwater Investigation Unit #1)(16)

“Yeah, that would help. I’m going to call Chief Kate and tell her what’s up. I’ll be on my boat with the shotgun across my knees.”

“I’ll have someone by in five. Don’t shoot any of my people,” he replies, half in jest.

“Then tell ’em to take their shoes off before stepping aboard.”

Mercer gives a cackle and hangs up. I head back to the boat, keeping my eyes on the road around me. I don’t want to be halfway back to the marina and find out that my watcher’s waiting around the bend, ready to run me down.

I make it back to the gate and can see all the way down the street to the stoplight. I think he’s well and truly gone.

Something about the way he acted when I took his photo has me thinking. My phone starts to ring before I can give it any more thought.

“You okay?” asks Run.

“Yeah, fine,” I reply.

“Last time you said that, you were on the way to the hospital to give birth to the squirt.”

“Florida State was playing that day. I’d never have heard the end of it if I made you miss the game. Anyhow, I’ve got another call coming in. Everything is chill.”

“Liar,” he replies.

Got me.

But I can’t have him racing over to play my savior. I need him with Jackie.

I text Run: Just keep your eyes on our girl.

He replies with the one word I need to hear: Understood.



I’m sitting on my stern, drinking my second beer for the night. To avoid looking totally unprofessional, I’ve tucked my gun back into my waistband. The shotgun is within arm’s reach, just inside the belowdecks entrance. If anyone comes walking down the dock, I can have that drawn on them before they reach the plank.

When I spot an SUV pull into the parking lot, I start to reach for it until I realize that it’s Captain Mercer himself.

He spots me and raises his hands in mock surrender. I hold my own up in return.

“I wasn’t expecting you to show,” I say as he approaches the stern.

“I couldn’t take the guilt of you shooting one of my guys if they mucked up your deck.” He eyes the boat and then his shoes.

“Come aboard.” I point to the scratched wooden deck with a shrug.

He joins me and takes a seat on the bait well.

“We ran the car.”

“And?”

“Lease. Biscayne Shipping.”

“What the hell is that?” I ask.

He shrugs. “No listing. Just the name of the holder of the credit card.”

“That’s not very helpful. I’ll ask Chief to run a credit search.”

“No need,” Mercer replies. “I already shared the photo with a couple of people in the department.”

“And?”

“One of them recognized the driver right away.”

I say it before he has a chance to. “Let me guess, DEA?”

“Yep. If I’m not supposed to tell you that, then DEA should have bothered telling me so. But they didn’t. Any chance they were just looking out for you after what happened?”

“It’s not a DEA case, as far as I know. And if that’s looking out for me, I’d rather be on my own.”

He ponders this, thinking about the implications. “You talked to a lawyer?”

I shake my head. “I don’t need to. If they think I know something, they’re not only barking up the wrong tree, they’re in the wrong forest.”

“Think they’re watching you because of your asshole uncle?” he asks bluntly.

I’d like to defend my uncle but, technically, Mercer is right. My uncle is an asshole. “Maybe.”

“Rough.” Mercer stands and leans against the railing. “So, how well did you know Stacey Miller?”

I feel my heart skip a beat.

“Stacey Miller?” he says. “The girl you found.”

Damn. Stacey. Winston Miller’s little daughter. I hadn’t seen her in years. She used to hang around her dad’s boatyard. That’s why I didn’t recognize her. The last time I saw her, she was maybe thirteen. I could have run into her at a festival or an art-in-the-park since then, but she would’ve been one face in a hundred.

Oh, Stacey. I remember how you loved feeding those miserable ducks by the boat ramp. Treated them like your pets. You even named them.

“You didn’t know? Sorry. Uh, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I take a swig of my beer. “Holy shit.”

“So, you knew her?”

“Sort of. I never thought much about her, to be honest. I didn’t even realize it was her when I pulled her out of the water.”

I can see the father in Captain Mercer’s eyes as he takes this in. “She had a rough life. A half dozen agencies have called up in the last twenty-four hours, asking about her.”

“Asking what?” I reply.

“Who she hung out with. Boyfriends. Arrest records. Reputation.”

“Anyone ask about me?”

Mercer takes his time to respond, which tells me everything I need to know. I see now why it seemed implausible that I didn’t know Stacey Miller. Her dad patched up our boats, and everyone on the water knew Winston. Hell, I wouldn’t have believed me if I claimed I didn’t know who she was. No wonder it seems like I’m covering something up.