“Hi. Is everything all right? I thought you would all be diving by now.”
Penelope swallowed to clear the lump in her throat. “Sam and Brandon are, and I have some things to do on the island,” she lied. “But I need to write a report of the dive and Brandon left his dive licence at home. Are you able to send me a photo of it?”
“Oh, sure. He keeps a bunch of cards in a drawer. Let me see if it’s there.”
There were the sounds of rummaging from the other end and Penelope stared at the water, her heart racing as she waited.
“Here it is. Give me a second and I’ll message you the photo.”
Penelope exhaled. “Thank you. I’ll see you on the weekend.”
She hung up and then examined the photo when it came through. Definitely qualified. A little of the tension in her muscles relaxed.
Needing something to do, she unpacked her BCD, drying everything and replacing her gear in her backpack. Then she reviewed the other items in there, checking the first aid kit was up to date, and her survival kit had everything it needed.
They still weren’t back yet.
Her skin tight, she kept her gaze on the water, scanning the area in case they surfaced away from the boat. It was almost an hour before they did. Definitely experienced divers.
She moved to the back of the boat to take their fins from them. “What did you find?”
Sam hauled himself aboard, tank and all. “Nothing.”
Brandon joined them and he handed over the camera. “Got some good shots of the marine life. It’s thriving.”
Penelope flicked through the photos while the men dealt with their dive gear. Relief swept through her. This wasn’t something to do with Stonefish, it was simply some rich arseholes who thought they could flout the rules.
She exhaled and turned the boat for home.
Chapter 10
It was six-thirty before Sam allowed himself to knock on Penelope’s door. He wanted answers, wanted to make sure she was OK after today’s freak out. He hadn’t liked to leave her after the dive trip, but she’d insisted she had more work to do after she’d dropped them at the marina. The tension hadn’t left her until they’d arrived back and unloaded the boat. She’d smiled and waved as if she was fine and left them to put their gear in the car.
He didn’t believe her. He wanted to find out what happened to Emelia. Plus, she had agreed to go to dinner with him, not that they’d confirmed a time after the dive incident.
The door opened and Penelope stood there, still wearing her PAWS uniform. Her shoulders slumped in resignation. “Sam.”
He’d had cooler welcomes, but not by much. “We had a dinner date, and I wanted to see how you are.”
She opened the door further and gestured him in. “I’m fine.”
The house was cool, the air conditioner on low, though it wasn’t overly hot outside. A single couch with a jumbled-up piece of knitting on it—maybe the beginnings of a scarf or blanket. It was hard to tell whether the random holes in it were intended, but they were big enough to be noticeable even with the multi-coloured yarn she was using.
A modest-sized television, sitting on a wooden cabinet, and a single coffee table. Not much for someone who had to be in her early thirties.
No photos lined the walls or were displayed in photo frames and only an e-reader on the table, which meant he couldn’t tell what books she was into.
“I’m sorry. I forgot about dinner.” She gestured to the kitchen bench where vegetables were laid out ready for chopping and a packet of corn chips was open. Without asking, she poured him a glass of cold water and handed it to him.
“You’ve had an emotional day.”
She looked at him. “What do you want to know?”
Straight to the point. He could appreciate that. “How’s Emelia now?”
Penelope closed her eyes and he knew the answer before she spoke. “She’s dead. She died before we could get back to shore.”
Fuck. He reached out and brushed her arm. “I’m sorry.”
