Page 135 of The Deadly Shallows

Using a combination of footholds, handholds, and even her fingernails in the edgier spots, she made the transition in Caleb’s firm grasp, down to the boulder jutting out. Now to just finagle beneath it.

Why did she always get herself in these predicaments?

She froze as a flashlight panned out, reflecting off the still water below.

Caleb reached out and swung her under the boulder, moving to press against her.

“Over here,” Hector yelled. “I think I saw movement.”

Footfalls and flashlight beams grew closer, and so did Caleb, his smooth cheek pressed to hers, his breath echoing in her ear. His heart thumped against her chest, his muscular torso and arms enveloping her.

“I guess it was nothing,” Hector said after a very tense minute.

“Fine,” Braxton said, apparently having joined the search. “Get back inside. We have to get these barrels ready to go by five a.m.”

A few moments later, the loading dock door rolled shut, and darkness swooped back in, leaving only a slit of moonlight breaking through the cloud cover.

Caleb pulled back. “Sorry if I smashed you.”

“I’m not,” she said, tugging his jacket, pulling him back against her. She pressed her lips to his. His body was chilled from the air temp, but his lips were warm and soft. He leaned into the kiss, his one hand splayed out on the rock for purchase, the other spreading through her hair.

Finally pulling away, he groaned. “As much as I hate to break up this fantastic moment, we better get out of here. We need a warrant. I’ll call Noah, the local EPA office, and Wilmington police.” He looked at his watch. “We’ve got less than four hours.”

SIXTY-THREE

Dawn not yet breaking, Caleb studied Huntington Foam through his binoculars. Everyone was waiting on his call.

He watched Gower pace the railroad loading dock in shafts of light emanating from an open factory door—his shadow growing tall as he neared the railroad tracks, then shrinking as he headed back for the factory.

All exterior lights remained off, but more than a dozen cars littered the lot.

Gower checked his watch, then disappeared inside, only to reappear moments later and repeat the process.

Caleb heard Austin’s barely audible footsteps approach. “Ready for this?” he asked without looking over his shoulder.

“How do you do that?” Frustration laced her tone. “Everyone else I can sneak up on.”

“Maybe I’m just drawn to your presence,” he said, this time looking over at her standing beside him.

She smirked, then nibbled at her lip. “Well played, Mr. Eason.”

Metal clinked as the railroad loading door raised, and Gower ceased pacing. He waved to someone on the other side of the loading door.

Caleb waited, his breath smooth and even.

A man wheeled a blue plastic drum out on a dolly.

“That’s a go,” Caleb said on his radio. He looked forward to the joy of presenting Gower with a warrant.

Austin pulled her Colt from its holster, and they moved stride-in-stride across the parking lot as the first Wilmington police cars crested the hill. Blue-and-red lights swirled off the dew-covered pavement, sirens blaring. More followed.

Gower’s eyes widened. He shoved his way past the line of men with dollies, tripping over one on his way back into the plant.

“Armed security guards are somewhere on the grounds or in the building, but no eyes on them,” Caleb said on the radio before the wave of police officers climbed from their cars.

“Roger that,” Celia Tracy, head of investigative operations, said.

Three EPA vehicles were the last to pull in.