The Vision (25 page)

the clear warmth of the water. Neon-colored fish shot by her. A huge grouper hovered by

a staghorn coral, making her feel a bit guilty about last night’s meal. He was a friendly

fellow. He swam straight toward her. She reached out and she ran her fingers gently over

its huge body. The fish outweighed her by about a hundred and fifty pounds, she decided.

Thor had paused and was looking back at her. He seemed pleased that she had been

waylaid by nothing more than a friendly fish.

Again he moved forward.

Genevieve stared after her fish as it departed.

And then, in its place, she saw the woman.

Genevieve stopped breathing. Her heart hammered in a slow, dull thud.

She swallowed. Forced herself to breathe. The woman stared at her with her great sad

eyes. Blond hair and white cotton trailed in the water. Through her, Genevieve could see

the bright bodies of a dozen tropical fish.

The woman beckoned.

Genevieve followed.

Entranced, she had forgotten Thor—until she felt his grip on her ankle, jerking her back.

He stared at her furiously through the lens of his mask.

She stared back and pointed. He shook his head. She pressed her gloved hands together,

prayer fashion.

Then, without waiting for a reply, she shot away from him.

Ahead of her, the woman waited.

There was a sand shelf beneath her, and Genevieve began to dig gently. She felt Thor

behind her. Felt that he didn’t want to believe.

Even so, he came beside her and began to help her with her task.

She didn’t know how long they worked there, only that they displaced a tremendous

amount of sand. The water around them had become silt. But he didn’t leave her. And he

didn’t stop working.

She didn’t think he was even as amazed as she was when she hit something hard.

A box!

It was a metal box. Small, no more than a little chest, something that must have held only the dearest mementos, or perhaps the most important papers. It was finely etched; not the

sea, the sand nor time itself had managed to entirely erase the delicate tracery of flowers

and birds, visible through the sea growth that clung to the box.

Thor stared at her. He should have been jubilant, but she winced, because the look in his

eyes told her that he thought of her as something beautiful, but best kept at a distance.

He picked up the chest and gave the sign to head back. She nodded and followed.

Turning wearily to thank the ghost, Genevieve saw that the apparition had already

disappeared.

A few minutes later, they were topside. Thor handed up the treasure to Jack as he slipped

off his fins, and tossed them and his mask onto the deck. On the platform, he reached

back to assist Genevieve, but he didn’t meet her eyes.

“She’s done it again,” he said flatly.

“Wow, I’ll say!” Jack applauded. “Hey, Gen, I never asked, do you gamble? If so,

sweetie, you can hit the roulette table with me anytime.”

Brent Blackhawk had come to the stern as well. Thor stared coldly as Blackhawk took the

box from Jack. “Do you already know what it contains?” Thor asked.

Blackhawk shrugged. “It probably belonged to Anne,” he said. “And there might be

something in here that tells us more about her life.”

“Because there’s something she wants us to know, I take it,” Thor said.

Brent shrugged. “We see what we choose, and read what comes in life in the same

manner,” he said with dispassion.

“There’s a lock on it,” Genevieve commented, peeling off her dive suit.

“We’ll take it back to the lab. There’s no reason to destroy something that’s hundreds of

years old,” Thor said.

“You’re kidding,” Jack protested. “How can you stand it? So what if we break the lock?”

“We’re not just treasure seeking. We’re preserving history,” Thor reminded him.

Lizzie popped up at the back of the boat, followed by Zach. Staring at them, she knew

immediately that there had been another find. “I don’t believe it!” she cried. She looked

at Genevieve and threw her a proud look. “You’re too much.”

“Too much,” Thor murmured softly.

Genevieve walked past him. “We have some sodas in the ice chest, right?”

“Cheer up. Celebrate,” Lizzie said as Zach cleared the dive platform. “We have someone

who’s better than sonar. This is great,” Lizzie said.

Her enthusiasm brought a smile to Genevieve’s lips. “Thank you, Lizzie.” She stared defiantly at Thor as she spoke

He turned away from her and got on the radio. She heard him call the other boat. Jay’s

voice crackled in return, but she knew what he had said from Thor’s reply. “Yep, it’s

great. Genevieve homed right in and found a box. We’ll bring it in. Let’s call it quits for

the day. With any luck, we’ll hear from Marshall soon.”

A little while later, back in at the dock, Genevieve was greeted with amazement and

cheering from the rest of her teammates—and Nikki Blackhawk.

As the other woman gave her a hug of congratulations, she whispered, “Don’t look so

depressed. Shower, change, then Brent and I will meet you in the parking lot and we’ll go

talk with Adam and Audrey. It’s going to be fine.”

It was going to be fine? Yeah, right.

She forced a smile. “Thanks.”

Nikki caught her by the shoulders, looking at her sternly. “Open up,” she said softly.

“The ghost is trying to help you.”

“That ghost is making me look crazy.”

Nikki smiled and shrugged. “Ghosts will do that. I wish there had been a way for me to

be the one diving with you, but we have to be careful. It won’t do any good if everyone

knows who we are and why we’re here.”

She stepped away quickly as Victor came up, lifting Genevieve, spinning her around.

“Hon, you’ve just got to ditch that Norse god somehow and get back to being my

partner.”

There was general laughter all around, even Thor taking the comment good-naturedly. He

even told Victor it was nice to be called a god. But then he turned away, saying he would

take the box to the professor at the lab.

Genevieve closed her eyes for a minute, feeling dizzy, then glad he hadn’t suggested that

she accompany him.

She sped as quickly as she could manage from the docks, going to her own cottage,

showering and changing with shaking hands and a trembling that wouldn’t leave. She

dressed quickly, afraid that any minute Thor would be there, staring at her suspiciously,

suggesting she come with him.

But he didn’t appear.

Paradoxically, she felt a sinking fear that he would never appear again. That he might

really see her the way she looked at an exotic jellyfish—gorgeous when billowing in the

water, deadly when wrapping its tentacles around its prey.

She couldn’t—wouldn’t—dwell on it.

She raced out of her cottage, heading away from the tiki bar and toward the parking lot.

No one else was there yet.

As she waited, a late afternoon cloud covered the sun. Darkness seemed to descend in a

great, ominous swirl. Around her, palms whispered as they swayed in the rising breeze.

She gritted her teeth, fighting the sensation that she was being watched. That a predator

was lurking behind the benign palms and sea grapes. But then she heard something.

A shifting. Something in the trees. As if an animal were stalking her.

She closed her eyes for an instant, trying to clear her head.

She nearly screamed aloud when a voice said suddenly, “Hey there, gorgeous heroine of

the deep.”

She spun around. It was Jack. She was almost giddy with relief.

“Jack! Damn you, you startled me,” she told him.

He shrugged. “What’s up? I should buy you a big bottle of champagne.” He cocked his

head at an angle. “Or a beer?” he said hopefully. “Kind of surprised me that our mighty

leader brought us in today. I have a feeling we’ll be working long, hard hours from here

on out. So what do you say? Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sorry, Jack. I’m meeting Audrey,” she said. “But how about a little later?”

“You got it. I’ll be hanging around in the usual places. Crook your little finger, and I’ll

come running.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Jack.”

He waved to her and headed across the lot to the street beyond. As he disappeared into

the crowd on the sidewalk, Brent and Nikki came forward. “Hey,” Nikki said cheerfully.

She looped an arm through Genevieve’s. “Cheer up. You’re going to be rich and famous.

Oops, wait a minute. Government funding. You’ll be kind of rich and famous.”

I just want to be sane, she thought. And despite herself, that inner voice went on. Sane—

and loved.

“There’s a reason why you’re seeing what you are,” Brent said quietly.

Genevieve flashed him a rueful smile. “Always?”

He laughed. “No. Sometimes, people are…well, just seeing what they want to see. That’s

why we’re not easily accessible. Adam tries to make sure there’s really something going

on before he calls in his people.”

Again, she felt there was something very solid—sane in the midst of insanity—about

Brent Blackhawk.

She hesitated. “So…do you see ghosts?” she asked him.

“All the time,” he said softly.

She stared at Nikki. “And you…?”

“I’ve seen them most of my life. Shadows, a hint of something.” It was her turn to

hesitate ruefully. “They’ve only started talking to me recently.”

The late afternoon sun was shining down again, though the heat was beginning to ease.

Duval Street was crowded with tourists, and competing music escaped from different

bars on different corners. This seemed like the most ridiculous conversation in the world,

coming in the daylight, among so many of the laughing, partying, vacationing…living.

They reached the alley to Audrey’s and turned. Adam Harrison was already there and

opened the door for them. Apparently he knew his people well, because he greeted them

warmly. Once again, Genevieve felt stronger in his presence.

“Hey, you!” Audrey called happily. When she entered her friend’s parlor, Genevieve saw

computer printouts, magazines and books everywhere.

“We’ve been looking up everything we can find,” Adam explained. “About the attack on

the Marie Josephine, the storm and the sinking. We’ve had a few minutes to speak, and

Audrey has filled me in on what she knows. So I thought we should sit around and

discuss what facts we have, add in what’s happening, and see what answers we get.”

“Genevieve found a box today, someone’s private little treasure chest. It was locked,”

Brent said.

“Oh?” Adam said. “The ghost led you to it?”

She nodded.

“She likes you,” Nikki said cheerfully.

“Great,” Genevieve muttered.

“She might have picked you because she knows you’re willing to help her,” Brent said.

He paused, looking at her. “Some people have a sixth sense, if you will, though most

people have a habit of denying it. Who thinks that someone who sees ghosts is sane?

You’ve probably always had the ability to sense something beyond the usual, but it’s

only just now that someone has tried to make contact. This ghost sees you as some kind

of kindred spirit. It’s a good thing.”

“A good thing? She’s nearly given me a heart attack several times,” Genevieve protested.

“Yes, but now you’re accustomed to her,” Brent said. He always spoke so evenly, in such

a matter-of-fact tone. The ridiculous seemed to make sense.

“What I don’t understand,” Nikki said, taking a seat and frowning as she picked up a

batch of the papers, “is why Genevieve is seeing pirates. Supposedly the pirates survived

and it was the ship’s crew that went down. What we know about what happened comes

from the pirates’ letters and journals.”

“Yes, that is interesting,” Adam agreed.

“Then again,” Nikki said, “how do we know the ghost is from the Marie Josephine? The body of a murdered woman was found on the beach,” Nikki reminded them. She

hesitated. “That means there might have been other victims. Other ghosts.”

“Did you see her?” Adam asked Nikki.

Nikki shook her head. “I wasn’t with Genevieve when we went down. We were lucky

Thor Thompson even let us out on the dive. He knows we’re your people, Adam.”

Adam nodded gravely. “Well, she keeps showing Genevieve the pirate treasure. So let’s

assume she is from the Marie Josephine.”

There was silence for a minute.

“Genevieve, you’re going to think this is a bit schlocky, but we’re going to try a seance,”

Brent said.

“A seance?” Genevieve said weakly. The idea terrified her. “Um…it’s still light out,” she

murmured.

“It isn’t a matter of light and dark, though ghosts do tend to prefer darkness and shadow,”

Brent said levelly. “But they also walk the streets in broad daylight. They frequently have

some kind of a mission.”

Genevieve winced. Good God, this entire conversation was ridiculous!

Brent Blackhawk must have sensed the emotions churning within her. He smiled. “I’ve

seen them all my life. I told you that.” He cocked his head at an angle and grinned.

“Luckily, I’m half Native American. People think we’re prone to the mystical.” He

hesitated. “Sometimes ghosts can’t be helped. They walk the streets because they’re

punishing themselves for some evil deed they think they committed, and they have to

come to terms with themselves before they can move on. But sometimes there’s

something happening in the world of the living that they’re determined to straighten out.”