The floor tilted even further and water surged up to cover most of the cockpit window, blocking out the bloody light of dusk. Dale cursed under his breath. Theres no time for the equipment, Tansy! Lets get the hell out of here.
Weve got time. Help me with this, she demanded.
He clenched his teeth. Stubborn. Shed always been stubborn, and more concerned with the patients safety than her own. At times it scared him and drove him crazy. Other times it made him proud.
This was one of those crazy times.
Were getting out. Now. In the near-blackness, he looped an arm around her waist and dragged her to the door, grimacing when the floor tilted beneath his feet and metal groaned sickeningly.
The plane was rolling in the water.
Get the door! she yelled, finally ready to abandon the equipment. Were going down!
Hurry! Dale yanked his jacket over his head and tried to help her crank the door release. In a flash, he imagined sinking to the bottom of the ocean with Tansy, trapped in the half-open cockpit. Drowned. Like his parents. No! he shouted, and jammed his shoulder against the door.
It cracked open, followed by a gush of water.
Dale! Tansy grabbed for him when he lost his footing and went down between the angled seats.
He bobbed up and spat a mouthful of cold, salty water. Go! Get the hell out of here.
Not without you, she yelled back. Come on, well jump together and swim away.
Dale knew thered be suction when the plane went down. They had to get away, and fast. He scrambled to the door, kicking a pair of floating equipment cases out of the way, and boosted Tansy out the door as a wave crested over the plane and swamped the cockpit.
He choked, spitting more seawater. God, he hated the taste.
Dale, come on. Hurry! I dont think itll float much longer.
He hauled himself through and jumped. His foot slipped on wet metal and he landed almost in the planes shadow. The water was cold and harsh.
Like coming home.
Striking out hard, he saw Tansy paddling for all she was worth. Not fast enough.
He was a strong swimmer. Hed had to be, growing up on an island with one of the highest lost-at-sea rates in the Northeast. He grabbed Tansys jacket and struck out for the beach, hauling her along over her feeble protests. The lights on shore slowly grew closer, though part of him wished they wouldnt.
Halfway there, he heard the unforgettable hiss-chug sound of a lobster boats engine. He tamped down the memories and lifted an arm to the shabby-looking vessel that slowly approached out of the twilight. Over here!
Hoy there, did everyone make it out? The mans voice was muffled by wind and wave, but it sounded familiar.
If he werent already freezing wet, Dale might have shivered as childhood ghosts crammed his brain in a sudden rush. He blinked against them and focused on the cold, hard water and the woman beside him. He raised his voice and called, Yes. Everyones out.
It was a lucky thing, too, he thought as the last slice of wing disappeared into the oily, black sea. The water just beyond the runway must be deeper than he remembered, or else the tide was running high. He felt a twinge of remorse for the field kits that had seen them through so many tough assignments, so many exotic locales. The cases were waterproof, but he doubted they were that waterproof.
Hang tight, the helmsman shouted over the noise of the waves and the motor, well have you out of there in a jiffy. The near-derelict boat lurched through the surf and Dale could just read the faded name on its bow. Churchill IV.
The name brought a twist of guilt. Dale had promised his parents friend, Walter Churchill, that once he left the island hed make a new life for himself and never look back. Well, he was back, and so far it had been a hell of a homecoming.
Climb aboard, you two. What the heck happened to your plane? The helmsman steered the Churchill IV in close, and another rain-suited figure leaned over and tossed a thick, greasy rope.
We crashed, Dale answered shortly, though he wanted to know the same thing. One moment, Tansy had been landing as deftly as ever, and the next, the plane was sliding down the runway on its belly.
It made no sense.
He helped her aboard, then scrambled into the boat in a motion that came back easily after all these years. He checked on Tansy. She was pale and shivering, though the men had wrapped her in a coarse, soggy wool blanket. You okay?
Never better, she answered with a crooked smile that squeezed his chest.
Her aplomb was ruined by a thin trickle of blood from a cut on her temple, and the fine tremble of her lower lip. He took a step towards her. Tansy
Im fine, Dale. Really. She leaned away.
He knelt down in front of her and took her chilled hands in his own. Tans
She pulled free and stood as the helmsman gestured his companion to the wheel and strode over. The boats running lights picked out the glittering tracks of salt spray that trickled down his yellow rain suit. A billed hood cast the mans face in deep shadow, but there was something familiar about the rolling walk, the wide, powerful shoulders. A chill skittered through Dale.
Letters and a phone call hadnt prepared him for this. Not really.
The slickered figure lifted a hand and pushed back his hood to reveal a shock of white-blond hair above a weather-beaten face that might once have been pale. The mans tired blue eyes were clear, but dulled with worry. Dale steeled himself to shake the proffered hand. Mickey. He saw the face of a boy beneath that of the man. Its been a long time.
Welcome home, Cousin Dale. Mick nodded and glanced down at Tansy, who sagged against the railing. And youd be Dr. Whitmore. Welcome to Lobster Island. Im sorry for your plane, but thank God youre both all right.
Dale let the voice wash over him as he tried to fit Mickeys image to the memories hed carried for fifteen years. Theyd been as close as brothers until the day Dales family had gone down in a ferocious spring storm, leaving the seventeen-year-old at the mercy of his grief-maddened uncle.
Trask. Even the memory of the name brought impotent rage.
I see some debris. Ill bring her around to it, the other slickered man called, interrupting the memory, though not the anger.
Some of the cases may have washed out of the plane, Dale said harshly, trying to find his doctors focus. The job, he thought. Focus on the job. Pick up as much of the equipment as you can. Well need it to investigate your shellfish poisoning.
At his elbow, Tansy was ghost-white. Guilt seared through him, layered atop the anger. He should have told her about the island. He should have prepared her better for the shock of learning that this poor, wretched place had once been his home. That these people were his family, such as it was.
Mick muttered a dark curse at the mention of the outbreak. Its bad, or I wouldnt have asked you to come. Weve had three deaths since I called, and another two sick, including the mayor and the sheriff.
Dread curled through Dale, though he hid it deep down with all the other emotions.
Thats impossible, Tansy said after a moment. PSP isnt fatal, and certainly not in those numbers. Dale could see her mind working.
Personal problems, plane crashes, the cold and the wet faded to the background as his mind clicked over to field mode alongside hers. Youve had more cases? he asked. I thought the fisheries people locked down all your lobster traps.
Personal problems, plane crashes, the cold and the wet faded to the background as his mind clicked over to field mode alongside hers. Youve had more cases? he asked. I thought the fisheries people locked down all your lobster traps.
Mickey cursed and jerked his chin toward the dock, dark in the gathering twilight. Black, boat-shaped shadows bobbed gently at their moorings. The fleet hasnt put to sea in over a week. The catches were bad after the spring storms, but this is a disaster. If we dont get the docks open, the whole island will be hungry by winter. Thats why I asked you to come. He glanced out to the end of the marked runway. The landing lights shone bright in the darkness. Though you almost didnt make it. What the hell happened?
Tansy answered with a tiny quiver in her voice. It was like the landing gearcollapsed. Or maybe it fell off. But that doesnt make sense. Landing gear doesnt just fall off.
A shiver started deep in Dales gut. No, landing gear didnt just fall off.
Not unless it had help.
IT WAS RIDICULOUS, TANSY knew, to think the crash had been anything but an accident. Accidents happened. A pothole in the runway could have snapped a weakened strut. She might have missed a loose nut in her preflight check, or a bolt could have sheared.
But that didnt explain why both wheels failed at once.
She glanced over at Dale, deep in conversation with his cousin, and she felt like Alice down the rabbit hole. She didnt understand what was happening. Chillier than a corpse, she pulled the wet wool blanket tighter. Control. She wasnt in control of the situation. Knowledge is power. She knew nothing. And her head hurt like hell.
When they reached the dock, Dale jumped from the wet, unsteady boat with a practiced motion that made him look like someone other than the man shed known for so long, the man shed once thought herself in love with. He took her hand and helped her stumble onto the dock with a good deal less grace than hed shown.
Come on. Well go to the motel and scrounge some dry clothes. His voice was almost the same, but she knew the man beside her even less than shed known him when they had been lovers. Now, his perfectly groomed hair was plastered to his skull with salt water. The fine linen shirt, monogrammed at the cuff and collar, was ripped askew, and she could see the shadowy old tattoo shed always assumed was a scorpion. Shed had to assume. Hed refused to answer questions about the tattoo. But the scorpion-shadow had never quite meshed with the urbane polish of his Boston self.
In the glare of the lobster boats running lights, something flickered in the back of his blue eyes. Something uncivilized.
Without really meaning to, Tansy took a step back. Dale?
This time it was irritation that sparked in his eyes. I told you to stay in Boston, Tansy. You dont belong here.
Neither do you, she countered. Were here to do a job. But she wasnt sure which of them she was trying to convince. She shivered from the cold, and from the strangeness of it all.
The poised, elegant Dale Metcalf she knew from Boston would have slid an arm around her shoulders and shared his warmththough not his heart. The stranger hed become the moment he set foot on Lobster Island merely turned away and walked toward shore, calling over his shoulder, Come on. Lets get dry. Then well figure out how to get you home.
Im not going home, she yelled back through chattering teeth. We have a job to do.
Youre going back to Boston and thats final. I dont want you here.
Tansy flinched. Theyd been broken up for three months now. The thought that he didnt want her shouldnt hurt anymore.
She heard the crinkle of a rubber rain suit and felt a hand on her shoulder. Come on, Dr. Whitmore. Lets get you inside and dried off. That cut on your head should be seen to, as well.
Miserable from the cold, sick with fear and plagued by an otherworldly feeling, Tansy nodded mutely and followed Dales cousin to a windowless old jeep.
The men loaded eight salvaged equipment cases into the vehicle, completely filling the back. Dale climbed in the front and held out a hand. Come on. You can ride with me. He patted one knee, though his eyes told her he wished there was another way.
Tansy stalled. Theyd ridden sandwiched together in a hundred military vehicles, before and after becoming lovers. With only one or two transports for the HFH equipment and crew, there was rarely room for comfort. It had never bothered her before. It shouldnt bother her now.
But it did.
Dale saw her hesitation and snapped, Dont be foolish. Youre freezing. Get in. I wont touch you.
But it was a hard promise to keep when the jeep rocked along the bumpy dirt road and jostled them against each other. After a few minutes, his arms encircled her and pulled her back against his chest.
Relax, he whispered. Its nothing personal. Well be at the motel soon.
Its nothing personal. Tansy cursed the surge of hurt, and hated him for not understanding that it was personal. Everything between them was too personal, and not personal enough. It had been personal when theyd become lovers on a thin pallet in Tehru. It had been personal when theyd moved in together on assignment. And it had been very personal when hed drawn away from her every time they returned to home base.
Eventually, shed realized he wasnt letting her in any deeper. Then shed seen the signs her mother had warned her about. The frequent, unexplained absences. The furtive phone calls. The emotional withdrawal.
When shed accused him of finding someone else, he hadnt denied it. Hed let her walk out and he hadnt come after her. That alone had proven Eva Whitmores point. Either you knew a man inside and out or you didnt. And if you didnt, you were in for a nasty surprise.
The jeep bumped along, and Tansy realized shed unconsciously relaxed against Dale, sinking into the familiar spots where they fit together so well. Not strong enough to pull away, she sighed and turned her attention to the view. They passed a row of small cottages that might have been pretty once upon a time. Now, paint peeled from the clapboards and fell into weed-choked planting beds. An empty swing dangled from a tree. The whole area was deserted. Depressed.
Tansy thought it strange to find parallels between an island off Maine and the shattered Third World villages they so often visited for HFH. But the island, like the man, was a surprise. Shed envisioned a quaint old New England fishing village with a healthy tourist trade. This poor, dispirited place was anything but. It might have been charming once, might have been picturesque.
Now, it was just dreary. Dales cousin, Mickey, had mentioned a recent stretch of bad lobstering. She bet it had been going on longer than that.
Automatically, she scanned the area, registering the details of the outbreak location. The familiar action soothed her, distanced her from the feel of the man wrapped around her and the memory of the roughest landing of her piloting career.
Why the hell had the landing gear snapped? As soon as she dried off, shed call the FAA. There would be an investigation, and an answer.
A sudden lurch of the jeep threw her against Dales arm and she felt the brush of his thumb along one breast like wildfire. She stifled a gasp as her flesh tightened, and she cursed the flood of wet warmth that swirled at his touch. Her body, it appeared, hadnt forgotten Dale any more than her heart had.