Page 60 of The Deadly Shallows

“1700, and bring Austin. She’s part of the barrel investigation too.”

He tried to keep his smile from widening. He wasn’t at all happy about the chemical waste sitting in the sound off Austin’s backyard—it was horrible—but the thought of working another case with her, of being with her day in and out, warmed him. “Will do,” he said.

“Make sure you take the proper precautions. You don’t know what’s leaking out of those barrels.”

Austin paced while they waited for the crane retrieval ship Caleb had called for. Her limbs were warm despite the damp chill in the air. The wet suit protected her body, but not her cheeks or soaked hair.

How could someone do this? She gritted her teeth. She knew how. Because unconscionable men and women existed, and they didn’t care who they hurt.

Caleb approached, his eyes narrowing. “You okay?”

“Just mad.” She swiped the wet hair off her face. In these temps, it wasn’t going to dry anytime soon. “What’s the crane ship’s ETA?”

“They said they’d be underway in twenty.” Caleb looked at his watch. “So . . . forty minutes is a safe bet.”

Austin exhaled. Time would crawl.

THIRTY-ONE

Noah’s cell rang again. He answered quickly so it’d stop playing music and moved as fast as he could on his tender leg for the door. Brooke had finally drifted off to sleep, the literary-lines book still clutched in her hand.

He was just happy she’d found some rest.

“Rowley,” he whispered, shutting her door behind him.

“Noah?” Mason said.

“Yeah. Sorry. Brooke just fell asleep.”

“Hope I didn’t wake her.”

“I don’t think so.” He lifted his chin at the head day-shift RN as she passed by, then leaned against the wall beside Brooke’s door. “How’s the manhunt going?”

“I’d say it just ended,” Mason said. “At least for one of the men.”

Noah pushed off the wall, regretting the swift movement on his injured leg. “Which one?”

“Saul. Brooke and Logan did a remarkable job on the sketch. Looks just like him, minus being in the water for a while.”

“Where’d you find him?”

“He was caught up in the reeds along the shallows—a couple miles downstream from where Brooke waved down the truck,” Mason said.

“Any idea on time of death?” Noah asked.

“No. I’m waiting on Finn and Hadley—that man’s been working nonstop.”

“I know.” Noah ran a hand through his hair. Between the shooting victims, the shooters, and several questionable deaths that came through the ER, the morgue was at near capacity. It was no wonder Hadley was backed up on autopsies.

“But,” Mason continued, “I’m guessing Saul’s body went in the water not long after Brooke was found.”

Noah rubbed his chin. “So did the nameless man with Saul kill him, or did someone else take care of them both for failing to kill Brooke?” Praise God they’d failed.

“All the joint jurisdictions, from local police to forest rangers, are still searching the shallows,” Mason said. “I’ll let you know if the other man is found.”

“Thanks. Be careful out there. You don’t know who else might be around. Everyone on this case is a potential target.”

The 210-foot Coast Guard endurance cutter Diligence arrived on scene with the orange retrieval crane on its bow and a series of environmentally friendly containers large enough to fit the barrels inside at its stern. Mooring about a hundred yards beyond the sandbar and hidden shallows, they sent a red skiff for Caleb.