Free Below the Surface by Karen Harper

to be certain nothing happened to her. He knew she was going, with or without him.
    Then, too, she’d convinced him that she could sense that Daria was alive. He knew nothing firsthand about that intense kind of simpatico relationship with another person, but he’d read identical twins could be that way, and he’d never seen twins who were more mirror images of each other. He’d studied a framed photo of them in their apartment, a formal, posed picture where they were evidently bridesmaids at someone’s wedding. They were beautiful women. If he ever saw Briana smile, he could probably tell one from the other, because one of them had a slightly lopsided grin, with a sort of bet-you-can’t-guess-what-I’m-thinking look.
    He was coming to know Briana, and he figured he knew Daria a bit, too, so this felt doubly personal to him. Another reason that he was literally along for the ride, even though he should have been installing Brazilian cherry in the salon on a big yacht in Naples today, was that he’d quickly come to admire Bree so much. She had not gotten hysterical and had seemed in control, when most women he knew would be frantic wrecks by now. Jillian’s first response to any trauma had been tears and tantrums, so he was totally impressed with this woman. Impressed and just plain turned-on, even in these terrible circumstances.
    Cole tried to listen carefully as Bree told him things he should know about the dive. Though she was speaking over the roar of the motor, she wasn’t talking loudly enough, and sometimes he had to almost read her lips. Like Cole, Manny seemed to be straining forward to hear her. Instead of facing her, Cole moved to sit beside her, edging her over a bit.
    â€œMotor’s too loud to hear you!” he told her, only to see her cringe. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
    â€œI agree about the motor. Your voice—I’m hearing sounds sharper than I did before, that’s all. It’s nothing. Okay, I’ll start over. First off, if you’re used to diving in the Caribbean or even in the Keys, the water’s going to look really different here, not so clear. We’ll both take dive lights. Manny brought two dive lights along, didn’t you, Manny?” she asked, craning around toward the back of the boat so he could hear her.
    She almost bumped noses with Manny since he was leaning so close to her. “Always got two of everything on board,” Manny told her, sitting up straighter. “Usually for you and Daria.”
    Bree just nodded. When she turned back toward him, Cole saw she had tears in her eyes.
    â€œGo on,” he prompted. He was grateful she seemed to be thinking clearly, despite the fact her emotions were right on the edge.
    â€œWe’re only going down to thirty feet,” she explained, “so we won’t have to decompress, but we’ll take a three-minute safety stop at fifteen feet, both entering and ascending. The wreck lies in a small, natural trough.”
    â€œWhat’s the visibility at that depth?”
    â€œVis varies a lot out here, from six inches to sixty feet, but since we evidently aren’t getting a storm today, it could have settled down to ten or twelve, especially since the incoming tide will bring in clearer water. I’ve got to find that camera.”
    â€œLet’s just say we’ll check for the anchor today. Set reasonable goals. We can’t search a vast area on this dive.”
    As if she didn’t hear that, when he knew she did, she continued. “The camera’s in a plastic housing, which mutes the red color I’ve painted it, especially since all reds disappear about fifteen feet down. At the depth we’re diving, everything will look green, yellow or blue.”
    â€œI remember. Bree, we should keep this dive short.”
    â€œWe need to cover a certain area,” she countered.
    Cole was not used to being told what to do.