The Vision (8 page)

majestic here, dangerous for anyone who didn’t know the path to navigate through

them—or forced onto them in the midst of a roaring storm. There were areas where the

coral outcrop—with its rich abundance of life—gave way suddenly to greater depths, and

then fan coral would suddenly shoot sharply toward the surface. The colors seemed

brilliant today. Purple fans, then a riot of fire coral. Blue-and-yellow tangs. Clown fish. A huge grouper…a lone barracuda. Something seemed to glisten in the sand deep below,

and he propelled himself past the coral and downward.

The object was covered in sand. He dug, adrenaline racing through him. His fingers

curled around the object, and disappointment washed through him. There was nowhere

near enough sea growth on the object for it to have been in the water any length of time.

He had found someone’s lost dive knife. A nice one, actually. But definitely new.

He looked back, ready to let his dive buddy know it was nothing. She was right behind

him, as ever, perfectly still and buoyant. She nodded her understanding.

He swam on.

No! Good God, no.

She was there. Thor was just ahead, but she was there. The woman with the long blond

hair.

I don’t see you! Genevieve raged inwardly.

The woman’s head rose. The woman smiled with poignant, aching sweetness.

She was a ghost, Gen told herself. She wasn’t there. But she was. She reached out…but

didn’t touch Genevieve. Then it seemed that a ghost of a ghost, an image of the woman

but even paler still, rose from the creature weighted to the bottom. Rose…and pointed.

Thor looked back. Genevieve tried to stare back with perfect calm. She pointed.

Apparently he saw nothing. He frowned and looked in the direction of the woman, then

swam toward the area bordering the coral where Gen indicated. He stopped just to the

side of the ghost and gently began to sift through the sand.

So she was insane.

But the ghost’s specter or aura or whatever was pointing, as well. Genevieve forced

herself to breathe, listening to the lulling sound of her regulator. Okay, she was crazy.

But the ghost wanted her to go in a certain direction.

She went.

Nothing. Nothing at all. Sand, without a hint that something might be lying beneath it. He looked back again. His partner was moving. She looked back at him and indicated that he

should follow her.

She had the strangest expression on her face.

Shit! The woman was seeing things again. He was sure of it.

He waved, determined to get her attention, to snap her out of whatever strange

hallucination had seized her. He had no idea where she was going, or why.

She nodded to acknowledge him but ignored his signal, indicating that they should circle

around the coral outcrop rather than move on.

She didn’t appear to be distressed; maybe he was jumping to conclusions. But neither did

she seem willing to allow him to take the lead. With a controlled motion of her fins, she

went shooting on farther to the southwest.

He followed her. She had stopped again, as if following some unseen guidance.

She dove deeper, past a strip of high fan coral, down to the seabed, another fifteen feet or so. He followed. It was as if she knew exactly where she was going. There was no

hesitation in her movements.

At the bottom, she stopped and stared at the sand, then began searching.

She had lost it, he decided. Completely.

It was just sand. No different from the sand she had pointed to moments ago.

All right. He would give it a go. They were searching for a pack of needles in a pile of

very large haystacks, so what the hell.

He began to search, as well, carefully, trying not to roil the sand. He unearthed a small

ray. Disgruntled, the creature shot away.

She was sifting the sand, as well. She dug calmly, at first, but then she began to search

frantically.

He watched her, ready to haul her up and, once they reached the surface, explode. Hell.

He wasn’t diving with her anymore, and that was that.

He reached out for her. She was strong; he hadn’t planned on that. She wrenched her arm

away from him. When she did, her hand hit the sand, hard. The granules danced up into

the water, darkening it. He was about to go for her with a more powerful grip when he

noticed something that didn’t quite belong. Something that looked like a black, crusty

blob.

He reached for it instead of for her.

When the object was in his hand, he felt the familiar—and pleasurable—adrenalin rush.

He wasn’t sure, but…

He reached for the dive knife in the sheath at his ankle, snapped it out and scraped carefully at the piece. He looked up as the black coat of time, oxidation and sea growth

slowly gave way.

She was staring at him, waiting. Dead calm, perfectly buoyant, as if she were floating in

air. Those eyes of hers, behind the mask….

She knew.

He looked at her and nodded slowly.

Gold.

“I don’t understand,” Bethany said, seriously confused. She untangled a length of her

freshly washed hair with her fingers. “You should be on cloud nine. That was a Spanish

gold piece you found. Minted in Cuba, Marshall thinks, though he admits he isn’t sure

yet. But if so…then it has to have come from the Marie Josephine.

Genevieve nodded, brushing her own hair out before the mirror. “I am delighted.”

Delighted? Did she dare tell the truth, even to Bethany?

“Well, Thor picked it up, right?”

“What?”

“He’s the one who actually found the piece.”

“Like hell!”

“Don’t bite my head off. You two were together. The first discovery goes to you as a

team. That will teach them to rib you! As if you could possibly be crazy in any way.

They’ll be sorry.” She giggled. “I’ll bet you Victor is sorry right now. I mean, you are his diving partner, really. I’ll bet he’s kicking himself right now for what he said.”

Genevieve’s brush paused halfway through the length of her hair. She turned and studied

Bethany. “What if I told you I saw her again?”

Bethany laughed, flinging herself back on the bed. Then she realized Genevieve wasn’t

laughing and sat up soberly. “You’re kidding. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“If you repeat this, I will call you the worst liar in the world,” Genevieve said forcefully, taking a seat on the edge of her bed. Bethany was staring at her with worry in her eyes.

“Oh, Genevieve…you are teasing me, right?”

“No.”

Bethany closed her eyes. “I don’t think I want to hear this.”

“Then…then I won’t say any more.”

“No! You have to talk to me…. I just don’t think I want to hear it.” She hesitated.

“Please, Gen, go ahead.”

Genevieve sighed. “I was down there with Thor. He was moving a little ahead. I felt as if

I were being called, so I looked back, and…there she was. Exactly where I saw her

before.”

Bethany frowned. “I…wow. I don’t even know what to say.”

“Here’s the thing. Have you ever seen one of those movies with…astral projection,

except that it wouldn’t be exactly that…or heard about people who died on the operating

table and were floating above themselves, looking down at their own bodies?”

“Now you’re seriously scaring me. What are you talking about?”

“It seemed as if her…her ghost left her where she was weighted down. And led me—

pointing exactly to the place where I should look.”

Bethany just stared at her.

“Did Thor see her?”

“No.”

“Gen…”

“It’s the honest to God truth.”

“You saw the woman again? A dead woman. Then her…ghost pointed out the exact spot

where you found the coin.”

“Exactly.”

Bethany just stared at her again.

“Say something.”

“Oh, God, what do you want me to say?”

“That you believe me!”

“Uh…”

“Oh, never mind. Just don’t repeat anything I’ve said. He’d have me locked up.”

“Who?”

“You know who. Thor Thompson.”

“Oh, Gen, I don’t think—”

“He’d manage to get me thrown off the dive, I guarantee you.”

Bethany walked over to her, setting a hand on her arm. “I think you’re right. I think…I think you’d better not talk about any of this.”

“I swear to you, everything I’m saying is true.”

“True in your own mind,” Bethany whispered gently.

“I saw her. I promise you, what I saw was real.”

“But Thor…?”

“No, you’re right. Thor didn’t see her.”

“And today you weren’t…scared?” Bethany asked.

“No. Yes. I was terrified at first. And then I had to pretend I wasn’t seeing anything.”

“I’m confused. The first day you nearly choked and drowned, it shook you up so much.

And then…today…it’s become your friend?”

“I don’t exactly know. Maybe today I gave her a chance because I was more afraid of

Thor than I was of seeing a ghost. Bethany, I know this will sound strange, but I think she

wants us to find the ship.”

“Great,” Bethany murmured. “I want us to find the ship, too.” She stared at Genevieve

anxiously. “So this is…”

“I guess.”

Genevieve hesitated. She was still afraid. And not just of what had happened in the water.

She was afraid of what had happened this morning.

Waking up soaking wet, wearing seaweed.

“I’m going to slip out during dinner and see Jay Gonzalez.”

Bethany sighed. “Oh, good move. Like Jay doesn’t think you’re crazy, too. You talked to

him, remember? He wanted to help. He couldn’t find anything.”

“He can try again. Some poor woman is snatched somewhere every week, maybe every

day. And there are always runaways who end up dead and unidentified,” Genevieve

reminded Bethany.

“Genevieve…if you’re seeing a body, a…ghost who seems to want to help you find a lost

ship, don’t you think the ghost should be someone from that era? I don’t believe this.

We’re talking about a ghost. As if it’s…real.”

“She is real,” Genevieve said, wincing. “I swear, Bethany. I don’t think Thor Thompson

would admit to seeing a ghost—even to himself—if one smacked him in the head. I don’t

understand what’s going on, and why I should be seeing this…her, but I am. And it…it

has to mean something.”

“Actually, I know who you should see,” Bethany murmured.

“Who?”

“Audrey Lynley,” Bethany said.

“Audrey? The We-went-to-school-with-her Audrey Lynley?” Genevieve said. It was her

opportunity to stare at Bethany as if she were completely mad.

“Yes,” Bethany said firmly.

Genevieve shook her head. “Oh, come on, Bethany. She doesn’t even pretend that

anything she does is real.”

“Excuse me, but aren’t you the one telling me you’re seeing a ghost?” Bethany demanded

belligerently.

“She reads palms, Bethany. Or she pretends to read palms. And she does tarot cards. I

think she even has a crystal ball and pretends to see the future in it sometimes.”

“You’re acting as if you don’t like her,” Bethany said.

“I like her fine—mainly because she uses her act for tourists and she entertains them—

she doesn’t pretend she really has any answers.”

“What could it hurt to talk to her?”

Genevieve sighed. “If it got back to the guys that I was talking to her…”

“Hey, she’s an old friend. There’s no law against talking to old friends.”

Genevieve shrugged and started to speak but broke off when she heard a voice calling

them from outside her front door. “Hey, in there!” It was Victor. “Are you guys ready

yet? I’m starving. Let’s go.”

“We’re ready,” Bethany called back. Then she turned back to Genevieve and spoke more

quietly. “I’ve got Audrey’s number, if you want it. Then again, she’s got it posted all over Key West. If—”

“I have her number. We live in a really small place, remember?” Genevieve said softly,

shoving Bethany toward the door. “And don’t you dare whisper a word of what I’ve

said.”

“Of course not,” Bethany said.

“Do you believe in ghosts at all, Thor?” Bethany asked, sitting across from him at one of

the group’s favorite seafood places on Whitehead Street.

She was cute, he thought, and apparently an excellent diver, as well, with a round,

charming face that made her appear even younger than her twenty-something years.

There was a simple eagerness and honesty about her that was very appealing. Different,

of course, from the way Genevieve Wallace was appealing. Genevieve seemed to throw off a musk of sensuality and sophistication without the least awareness. Bethany was like

a puppy, ready to be cuddled.

“Ouch!” Bethany cried suddenly, reaching down for her leg.

He’d felt the kick. Genevieve was seated next to him, so there was no way he could miss

knowing that she had kicked Bethany beneath the table.

“It’s an innocent question,” Bethany said.

He glanced at Genevieve. She stared at him, her expression unfathomable. She was close

to him. Very close, in the small booth. Once again they’d ended up together. Not that he

would normally have had anything to complain about. Her perfume was subtle, an

underlying tease. She’d worn yellow, a halter dress that contrasted perfectly with her dark

hair and bronze skin, and set off the elusive green of her eyes. Her every movement

aroused his baser instincts, a fact to which she seemed indifferent, maybe even unaware.

She was accustomed to being with friends. She obviously took pride in her appearance

but did little to enhance what nature had given her. He was in a polo shirt and shorts. The