Submerged

  “Yeah.” He cleared his throat, forcing himself to forget how sweet her lips had tasted. “I wanted to know if you could help identify this.” He pulled the image from the envelope and handed it to her.

  She glanced at it and her brows furrowed. “What’s this all about?”

  He explained the situation. How they needed her help. They, not him.

  “Why come to me?”

  He shrugged. “I figured living with Agnes, helping out around the shop, you’d probably know a lot more about this stuff than the rest of us. That’s why I’m here.” And the only reason he was.

  “I have a doctorate in Russian Studies, teach at a university.”

  “Really?” Agnes had mentioned she was doing well but had never gone into detail. Though he hardly gave Agnes the chance, always changing the subject when Bailey’s name came up. After a while, Agnes took the hint, and it’d been some years since he’d heard her name spoken at all. “Well, it looks like I came to the right place.”

  Bailey swept her gaze back to the photo. Ignore the scent of coconut and sea air swirling about him. She focused on the picture in her hand, still not registering the image. How could she when Cole stood so near . . . his toned body radiating heat, his sandy blond hair dipping seductively across his brow, teasing the end of his long black lashes whenever he blinked those gorgeous seafoam green eyes.

  What is wrong with you? Cole McKenna is nothing but trouble. The fact her heart wouldn’t stop hammering proved it.

  “Any idea?” he asked, his voice as silky as she bet his skin still was.

  “Hmm?”

  He cocked a smile and her knees buckled.

  Get a grip, girl. “It’s . . .” She cleared her throat. “It’s Russian.”

  He stepped closer, his elbow a mere inch from hers.

  She stiffened.

  “Anything else jump out at you?”

  My heart at the moment. She stepped back, trying to keep her attention focused on the image. The round face of a young child—or cherubim, perhaps. Downy soft hair rimmed his graceful face. “It’s an icon. Most likely sixteenth century based on stylization, but I’d need to see it to be certain.”

  “Therein lies the problem. We were hoping you could tell us where to look.”

  “Icons like this were brought to Alaska by missionaries for the churches they built here.”

  “So we should be looking at the old Russian Orthodox churches?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think you’ll find it. Not anywhere in Alaska, at least.”

  He arched a brow. “Why’s that?”

  “Agnes dragged me to every Russian Orthodox church and museum in the state at one time or another. Believe me, if that icon was in Alaska, I’d have seen it.”

  “So you’re saying we’re at another dead end?”

  “Not necessarily. There is someone I could check with.”

  “Great. Who?”

  “My aunt Elma.”

  “Your family certainly loves Russian history.”

  “She’s not really my aunt. She is . . . was . . . Agnes’s best friend. Elma loves Russian history as much as Agnes did. If that icon is in Alaska, she’ll know about it.”

  “Could you call her?”

  “I can’t. She doesn’t have a phone.”

  “No phone. Where does she live?”

  “Isux. Out in the Aleutian chain. I suppose I could take a day and visit her.” It’d get her out of Yancey and would be her last chance to see Elma. Once she left Alaska, she was never coming back. “Okay, I’ll see if I can get a flight.”

  “We could have Kayden take us. She . . . no, maybe not. She’s flying up to Anchorage tomorrow—some kind of pilot certification training. . . . But we could fly with her to Anchorage and catch the morning commuter flight to Dutch Harbor from there.”

  She swallowed. “We?”

  “I want to go with you.”

  Bad idea. Terrible. Borderline catastrophic. “Uh-uh.”

  “The sheriff entrusted me with this photograph. It’s evidence and not allowed out of my sight.”

  An entire day with Cole McKenna. “I don’t know.” She shook her head, scrambling for any excuse. “It could be difficult finding a boat ride from Dutch Harbor to Isux. They aren’t always easy to secure, especially during peak king-crab season.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered.”

  “Why did I have a feeling you were going to say that?”

  He was awfully quick with solutions—first the flight and now the boat ride. She narrowed her eyes. If this was some attempt to get her into bed . . . no. He wouldn’t dally with her then; why would he now?

  His lips broke into an alarming smile at her stare, and warning bells clanged to life.

  “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ve got a lot of work to do. I can’t afford a day off.” What she couldn’t afford was a day spent alone with Cole.

  “I understand, but right now this photo is all we’ve got to go on. It could mean the difference between bringing a killer to justice and never solving the case.”

  Great. Her shoulders slackened. How could she say no to that?

  A young woman’s life had been taken, and all Cole was asking for was one day out of hers. “All right, but I want it understood this is strictly business.”

  “Okay.” His brow furrowed.

  “I just don’t want anyone thinking . . .”

  His eyes narrowed. “Thinking what?”

  “Never mind.” She grabbed a stack of files from the desk. “I’ll go, but only to help the victims.”

  He held up his hands. “I’m not viewing it as anything else.”

  Of course he wasn’t. This was Cole. He didn’t dally with girls like her. She hefted the files on top of the cabinet, hoping the exertion would cover the flush of her embarrassment. “When do you want to go?”

  “Tomorrow morning?”

  She pulled out a drawer and stuffed the first file into place. “Fine.”

  “I’ll pick you up around quarter to six.”

  “No. I’ll meet you. Just tell me where.”

  “We keep the floatplane on our property. You remember where the place is?”

  She nodded, unwilling to face him, unwilling to admit how many times she’d thought of him and their summer spent on his family’s land—swimming in the ocean, running along the miles of private beach. He’d taught her so many things, and she’d rejected them all.

  14

  Bailey ambled down the long dirt drive leading to the McKennas’ home, a thousand heartbreaking memories drilling through her.

  She caught sight of Cole, reclining on the porch swing, a large husky contentedly lounging at his bare feet.

  The rising sun filtered shimmering rays across his golden skin and hair. Man, he’s handsome.

  He caught sight of her and smiled. “Morning.”

  She stopped short. Was she crazy? Spending an entire day with a man who set her heart aflutter and resurrected tinglings that were best left dead?

  He rose, the dog slumbering at his feet waking with a long stretch. Both padded across the porch to greet her, Cole sporting a bright fuchsia moustache.

  A chuckle slipped from her lips.

  His sandy brow cocked. “What?”

  “You’ve got a little something . . .” She drew her finger across her upper lip.

  He mimicked the motion and grinned sheepishly. “Smoothie.”

  Funny, she hadn’t pegged him as the smoothie type.

  “Let me grab you one.”

  “It’s not necessary.” She just wanted to get on with the day. The faster they moved, the faster they’d return and she could extricate herself from Cole’s presence.

  “There’s plenty left in the blender. I’ll grab you a cup to take with us.” He darted in the house before she could argue.

  “All right,” she murmured to his retreating back.

  The husky paced back and forth be
tween the porch steps and kitchen door, apparently torn between greeting her and the possibility of a treat.

  Cole returned with a plastic Seawolves tumbler in hand and a pair of flip-flops tucked beneath his arm. “Kayden’s quite the health nut, but these are actually good.”

  Bailey stared at the fuchsia concoction with apprehension.

  “I promise, you’ll like it.”

  Promise was a tricky word. One she avoided both in making and taking. They were too easily broken. She took an apprehensive sip. “Not bad.”

  “Kayden uses fresh blueberries from Maine. Mixed with the plain yogurt, you get that purple color.”

  “Ah.” She took another sip. Quite amazing, actually. She glanced around, wondering which other family members may be lurking about and how they’d react to seeing her. Piper had been nice, but then again she’d been too young to know what Bailey had really been like back then—what she’d done to Cole, how she’d hurt him. She feared his parents and the rest of his siblings wouldn’t be as kind, and she couldn’t blame them. “So where is Kayden?”

  “She’s down at the plane, doing a final check. We should be good to go soon.”

  Great. She took another sip of her smoothie, trying not to look completely uncomfortable. Cole, on the other hand, looked perfectly at ease. She’d always envied that about him.

  “You still live at home?” she asked, hoping her question hadn’t come out as badly as it sounded to her.

  “No. I’ve got my own place. If you look through that cluster of trees, you can just see the edge of my porch.” He pointed in the general direction, and she caught sight of the cabin. Two-story with a large wraparound porch.

  She could just picture it dosed in a fresh-fallen snow, smoke curling from the chimney. “I’m sure your folks enjoy having you close.”

  “My folks passed on.”

  Shock rocked through her. “Both of them?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m sorry. I had no idea.” They were young. Too young.

  “It was a while back. Dad had a heart attack my sophomore year of college. Mom died three years later, complications of her illness.”

  She remembered his mom being ill, diagnosed with MS or lupus. Something deteriorating and degenerative. “That must have been really hard. For all of you.”

  “It wasn’t easy. Reef and Piper were still in high school.”

  “What happened to them?” No way would Cole have let his family be split up.

  “I stayed with them.”

  “You raised them? By yourself?” She didn’t know why she sounded so surprised. Cole was a good man. Too good for her. Always had been.

  “Gage and Kayden helped too.”

  “You must all be really close.” She longed for that closeness but, unfortunately, had looked for it in all the wrong places. These days . . . she didn’t really look for it at all.

  Cole raked a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Most of us are.”

  She furrowed her brows, but he simply went on. “Kayden and Piper live in the old house. None of us were ready to sell it. I built my cabin close enough so I could look after them and the land while still having my privacy.” He shrugged. “It works for us.”

  “It must be nice to have a big family.” She often wondered if things would have been different if she’d had a sibling. Maybe she wouldn’t have always felt so alone.

  “It has its moments.”

  “And your brothers? They’re still in Yancey?”

  “Gage is. He’s got a place on the south shore. Reef . . .” Cole rubbed the back of his neck. “He lives out of state.”

  She wondered at Cole’s hesitancy. “Reef . . . I remember you having a brother with a really unusual name. Hopefully with a name like that he loves the ocean.”

  “Yeah, definitely shares Mom’s love of it.”

  “She used to be a swimmer, right?”

  “Yeah, she was an open-water champion two years running.”

  “That’s really cool.” And really sad—someone so athletic being debilitated by a progressive disease.

  The whirling of a propeller shook the air.

  Cole lifted his chin. “Sounds like Kayden’s ready for us.”

  She followed him around the rear of the farmhouse and across the back lawn leading down to the beach.

  Her heart seized at the sight of the boulder bridging the gap between sea and shore. After the night her downfall began, she used to sneak down to that rock after the McKennas were all asleep. She’d perch at the sea’s edge, letting her feet dangle over the side, wishing she could turn back time and undo the damage she’d done. But it was too late. Cole would never forgive her, and she was too prideful to ask. Once she’d even contemplated diving headfirst into the black depths and letting the undertow pull her out to sea, but at the last second some strong force had seemingly held her back, filling her with cowardice and, somehow, resolve to go on.

  “Bailey?” Cole’s husky voice tugged her out of the past and dropped her smack in the present. “You okay?”

  “Fine.” She swallowed, feeling unsteady.

  Concern etched his brow, and he stooped to look her in the eye. “Is it the plane?”

  “What?”

  “Are you afraid to fly?”

  “No. I . . .”

  “It’s understandable after what happened.”

  Truth was, flying wasn’t her favorite to begin with, and after Agnes’s death she liked the prospect even less.

  She stared at the floatplane resting atop the water’s surface, sun glinting off the silver propeller. “I’m fine.”

  Something cold and wet slobbered her hand. She looked down at the husky, its tail wagging furiously.

  “Guess Aurora’s worried about you too.”

  Bailey ran her hand through the animal’s silky fur. “That’s sweet, but unnecessary. I’m fine.” How many times had she said that over the years when she’d felt completely the opposite?

  Cole helped her climb aboard the small Cessna, the husky clambering up after them. Kayden turned from the pilot’s seat, her headset already in place.

  “Bailey Craig, nice to see you again. It’s been a long time.”

  A lifetime. Kayden was even more beautiful than she remembered—striking brown eyes, long brown hair, and high sculpted cheekbones. “Thanks for taking us—me.”

  “No problem. I’m headed up there anyway.”

  Aurora lumbered past Bailey and hopped into the copilot’s seat.

  Bailey laughed. “Well, that’s a first.”

  “Rori’s my flying buddy. Aren’t you, girl?” Kayden ruffled the husky’s fur. “Other than Cole, she’s the only family member who’ll go up with me.”

  “Why’s that?” Panic fastened to Bailey.

  “Don’t worry,” Cole assured her with a gentle smile. “Kayden’s a great pilot.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Kayden said. “Reef’s in Australia last we heard, Gage isn’t fond of heights, and Piper doesn’t trust me.”

  “She trusts you,” Cole said.

  Kayden raised a perfectly arched brow.

  “It just freaks her out that her sister’s flying a plane, that’s all.”

  “You’d think she’d be used to it. Dad had me flying since I was ten.”

  “I’m sure she’ll come around one of these days.”

  “I won’t hold my breath.” She swiveled back around to the controls. “You two go ahead and strap in. We should land in Anchorage a little after eight.”

  Despite the four other seats on the plane, Cole sat beside Bailey, his alluring scent of sandalwood conjuring up images of sultry Tahitian days spent lounging on the beach—sun, surf, and Cole right at her fingertips. She grimaced. It was going to be a long flight.

  Two hours later, Kayden glided the plane to a smooth stop outside Anchorage International Airport. Following a quick good-bye, Cole secured two seats for them on the 9:00 a.m. flight to Dutch Harbor.

  The day was warm, a del
icious sixty-eight degrees and the air full of promise.

  Bailey tightened her ponytail and studied her reflection in the mirror. Not wanting to give the wrong impression, she’d gone the no-makeup route, but now, in the drab light of the airport bathroom, she wished she hadn’t.

  Riffling through her purse she found a tube of cherry ChapStick and a sample tube of mascara she’d picked up on her last trip to the mall. She applied both and stood back to study the results.

  Nothing stupendous, but the addition had brightened her eyes. Maybe now she wouldn’t feel so bland next to Cole and his stunning looks.

  She dropped the ChapStick in her bag and sighed. What was she doing? Trying to look pretty for Cole? Not that there was anything wrong with wearing makeup. It was the desire to focus on her looks and others’ acceptance of her based on her looks that was the problem. She braced her weight against the counter as unsteadiness roiled through her.

  Lord, being here with Cole . . . I know it’s silly, but I’m afraid I may slip back into old patterns—into wanting to gain affection by looking good, by being alluring. I’ve put all that behind me. Please don’t ever let me slip back to who I used to be.

  Bailey settled into her seat beside Cole, one of only eight passengers on the commuter flight.

  Sun poured through the plastic windows, bathing the cabin in warmth.

  Cole stretched out beside her, resting his hands behind his head. “I saw you at Grace Community last night.”

  Her fingers tightened around the bag of pretzels. She hadn’t seen that coming. “Yes.” She held her breath, wondering what would come next. Would he express shock at seeing “someone like her” in church? Didn’t he understand she’d changed? But, then again, why would he? Attending the midweek service had been a bold move on her part, but she wasn’t missing worship while she was in Yancey. God was more important than her fear. If only she lived that way all the time.

  He popped a pretzel in his mouth. “I tried to catch you when the service ended, but you left quick. I was hoping to welcome you.”

  “I’m not really one for hanging around and chatting afterwards.”

  He seemed to consider that for a minute. “How’d you like the service? I think Braden’s really got a gift.”