The Vision (6 page)

glanced at her watch. Five-thirty-five. Not as late as she had wanted to sleep, but early

enough to get up for the day. Early enough for someone to be knocking at her door?

Then she heard her name called, softly but urgently. “Genevieve?”

She froze, recognizing the voice.

“Are you all right in there?”

She strode to the door, opening it to see Thor Thompson, as expected.

But for once he wasn’t laughing at her; he actually looked concerned.

“Uh, good morning,” she murmured, holding tightly to the door. “Of course I’m all right.

Why are you asking?”

He stared at her as if she were suffering from something contagious. She realized she still

had seaweed in her hair. Self-consciously, she reached for it.

“You didn’t hear a…racket?” he asked her.

“What?”

He sighed, pointing to the neighboring cottage. “That’s me, next door. It sounded as if

something was…clanking over here, and then it sounded like a scream.”

“Clanking?” she repeated blankly.

He shrugged, looking ill at ease. With her—or himself? “Yeah, clanking, clanging…like

chains. You can’t mean to tell me you didn’t hear anything?”

“I’m sorry. I must have been sleeping,” she murmured.

“Or swimming.”

“Pardon?”

“Swimming. You’re all wet, and you’re wearing…seaweed.”

“Oh. Well, I like a morning dip now and then.”

“Right,” he murmured, staring at her flatly. “You just wake up, feel the urge and plunge

right in? In the dark?”

“Now and then,” she said lightly. I am losing my mind, she thought. But he was the last

person in the world with whom she would ever share that information.

“Interesting,” he said. “Well, if you’re sure you’re all right, I’m going back to bed.”

She wasn’t all right at all. But there was no way in hell she was going to tell him so. “I’m fine.” She smiled. “Are you all right? It sounds as if you’re hearing things. You know. I

see them, you hear them.”

“Something was making a racket,” he told her flatly.

She shrugged. “Well, it wasn’t me.”

“Couldn’t have been. You were swimming.”

“I was about to make coffee. If you’d like some…?” she added, praying her words were

perfectly casual. Indifferent.

Hands on his hips, he looked at her as if she’d just made another entirely insane

suggestion, but then he shrugged. “Hell, I guess I’m up for the day.”

He followed her in. She went straight for the coffeemaker and then the sink, filling the

pot with water, then setting the premeasured bag into place to brew. He’d taken a seat on

the futon that served as the sofa—or guest bed. She realized he was studying her, and she

was pretty sure she made an absurd picture, dressed in the long, soaked T-shirt, seaweed

still in her hair.

Act like it’s perfectly normal, she warned herself.

“How do you like your coffee?”

“Black.”

“Macho, huh?” she murmured.

“Nope. Best way to learn to drink it when you might be out for a while with milk that

goes sour and a crew member who forgot to buy sugar or creamer.”

“Right. Perfectly sensible.”

She sensed his shrug.

“We crazy people like it light,” she murmured.

“Hey, it’s a new day,” he said politely.

The coffeemaker chimed. She poured two cups, handed him one, fixed hers the way she

liked it and sat across from him on one of the two wicker chairs that faced the futon.

“I saw something down there,” she said flatly. “Today I’ll figure out for myself what it

was—while discovering the first relic.”

“You’re not just going to find it, you’re going to find it today?”

She shrugged nonchalantly.

“And you think I’m arrogant,” he murmured.

She lifted a hand. “When the shoe fits…”

He looked as if he was going to rise. To her deep annoyance, she realized she didn’t want

to be alone. “What are they going to talk to us about this morning?” she demanded

quickly.

“The usual, I imagine. Stuff we’ve already heard about preserving the reef while we

excavate.”

“We’re working as carefully as we can,” she said.

He grinned. “They just want to keep putting in their two cents, that’s all. And I have to

hand it to Preston—his research was top-notch, and his logic appears to be the same.”

“I know. I read the letters written by Antoine D’Mas, the pirate who watched the Marie

Josephine go down. It all makes sense to me, too.”

“There you go. We agree on something,” he murmured.

They both heard the sound of footsteps pounding on the sand and the knock at the door.

“Hey, you up in there?” Bethany called.

Genevieve stood and opened the door. Bethany was ready for the day, it appeared. She

was wearing cutoffs over her one-piece Speedo. Her hair was tied back, out of the way.

“Good, you’re up early!” she announced. “I didn’t want to sit around alone any longer.

There’s nothing on the TV—hey!” she said suddenly, seeing Thor on the futon.

“Hey yourself,” he greeted her, standing politely.

Bethany suddenly stared at Genevieve, as if really seeing her for the first time. “You’re

soaked. And there’s seaweed in your hair. What the hell…?”

Genevieve looked meaningfully at her friend, her back to Thor Thompson. “You know

me. I woke up early and just couldn’t resist the lure of the water.”

“By the dock?” Bethany said incredulously.

Genevieve made her stare fiercer. “On the beach side,” she snapped. “I can’t resist the water sometimes, and you know it.”

“Oh. Um. Right,” Bethany murmured.

“Do you want coffee?” Genevieve asked quickly, changing the subject.

“Sure, thanks.”

Bethany plopped down on the futon, where Thor joined her. “You still on for tonight?”

she asked.

Genevieve nearly spilled the coffee.

“Yeah, why not?” he asked.

“Barhopping,” Bethany told Genevieve. “We’re all going.”

“Should we be barhopping?” Genevieve asked.

“We don’t have to drink at every bar. But Thor, Lizzie and Zach haven’t spent much time

here. We’re going to show them the must-do tourist places and then our own favorites.

Hey, we’re always in by four o’clock. We can shower, eat somewhere cool, show them a

few spots and be back by eleven-thirty. Marshall’s coming, and Thor’s the boss of his

team, so…” She shrugged. “It’ll be great.”

“I’m not so sure,” Genevieve murmured.

“When did you suddenly turn into such a stick?” Bethany demanded.

“Here. Take your coffee. Entertain yourselves. I’m going to shower,” Genevieve said.

“You’re going to shower—to go diving?” Bethany asked.

“Yeah. I want fresh seaweed in my hair,” she said, and left the two of them together on

her futon. She walked into the bathroom and closed and locked the door. She stared at her

reflection in the mirror again. She realized she was deeply irritated and didn’t know why.

She also didn’t want them to leave.

Determined not to dwell on the situation, she hopped into the shower, washed her hair,

then hopped out. Her suit from the day before was on the rack, and she slipped back into

it, then found shorts and a denim shirt, and slipped them on over the suit. When she

emerged, the two were still talking.

“It was weird. I thought it was coming from here, too,” Bethany was saying.

“What are you talking about?” Genevieve asked sharply.

“Weird noises.” Bethany laughed. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d have said you were

cooking!”

“You heard noises, too?” Genevieve demanded.

“Yeah, a real racket. I don’t usually get up way before I need to—especially when I’m hoping to have some energy left at night,” Bethany told her. “What were you doing?”

“Nothing. I was swimming, remember?” Genevieve said curtly. It was enough to make

her nuts. She saw a body, no one else did. Thor heard noises, so did everyone else.

She felt a disturbing, creeping sensation along her spine. How much did that matter when

she had awakened wet with seawater? And she didn’t remember a thing about leaving her

cottage.

“They’ve probably got the tiki bar open by now. I’m hungry,” she said.

Thor and Bethany rose at her obvious suggestion that they all leave. He headed off to the

cottage next door, waving a hand behind him. “See you in a few minutes.”

Bethany stared after him. “Cool,” she murmured.

“Yeah, he’s just great.”

Bethany looked at her in surprise. “What’s the matter? He’s got a great reputation.” She

giggled. “And damned good buns, too. And pecs. And biceps. And those eyes…”

“Bethany…”

“What?”

“Go for it.”

“Oh, no. I’m not flirting with him or anything. He never fools around on a job.”

“Who the hell told you that?”

“I read it. There was a magazine article on him not long ago. He’s the kind who’s married

to his work. He grew up on the wrong side of town. Father walked out on his mother, she

wound up dying of a heart attack at forty, trying to raise the kids on her own. 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 against the edge of the next table over. He wasn’t

listening at the moment; he was grinning as he looked at Bethany.

“Excuse me?” Lieutenant Preston snapped.

“Sorry, sir,” Victor said. “Bethany heard some kind of commotion last night. She forgets

just how many cats and raccoons we have around here.”

“Well, they won’t be under the water!” Preston reminded him.

“Right, sir, absolutely not,” Victor agreed.

Sheridan cleared his throat. “I think it’s important that you all understand the full history of this wreck. The Spanish settled Florida in the early 1500s—St. Augustine is the oldest