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.I followed the overhead down, knowing that I would soon get to the windows that I was sure had been shot out.I prefer free diving to scuba, always have.And I can normally hold my breath a very long time.But breath-holding is harder when you’re exerting yourself, and even harder still when you’re scared.I felt the blackness closing in.My eyes were closed, but even then you still see lights on the insides of your eyelids.This blackness was different.I’d been this close before and managed to hold on until I reached the surface, but I knew I had only seconds before I would black out.Then I cut my hand on something—glass or splintered wood—and then I opened my eyes and saw brighter light.I pulled Zale with me and we swam through the window and began to rise toward the surface.I inhaled a little water as I broke through into the air because in my hurry I didn’t wait until my mouth was clear.Air.Sweet, sweet air.I was coughing, but it was air, and I was still clutching Zale’s hand.We both floated on our backs, breathing in the sweet taste of air.We’d been so focused on trying to get out, I hadn’t really cared how cold the water was.Now I felt the cold reaching into my body, leaching out the heat.Then I heard a whoosh sound, and when I looked over at the boat, the sharp point of the bow disappeared under the waves and the flybridge canvas reared up out of the water as the boat settled on the bottom in what must have been twelve to maybe fifteen feet of water.“Come on,” I said to Zale, and we both swam for the canvas.The day was nearly over, the overcast sky dark and low.The wind chop that had pushed us along as we floated now made it hard to swim back to the boat.My sweatshirt and jeans and layers of T-shirts and turtlenecks also made swimming more difficult, not to mention the debris covering the surface of the water.We had to push aside the bits of wood cabinetry and cushions and clothing that continued to rise to the surface downwind of the boat.When we finally reached the flybridge enclosure, I reached for what I thought was part of the canvas and found instead that I’d grabbed Richard Hunter’s arm.His clothes had caught in the metal framework.I was startled and I pulled back my hand as though I’d been burned.But I wasn’t frightened.It wasn’t the first time in my life I’d seen a dead body, and a part of me had known they must be around.Earlier that day I’d felt so angry and afraid.But seeing his open eyes, his lips pulled back, baring his teeth in a grimace of pain, his tattered camouflage shirt ripped with holes from dozens of bullets, I was surprised that I felt pity for the man.He may have been the one who pulled the trigger and shot Nick Pontus, but life had made him into a killing machine, and I suspected his sister had pointed him at the target.I found we were able to stand on the bridge deck in water up to our thighs, though when we stood, the air felt far colder than the water.The forecast for this cold front was for an overnight low in the forties.I knew we would have to get dry somehow or we were going to face hypothermia.I worked to disentangle the fragments of Richard’s shirt from the metal frame that held the canvas around the bridge.After pushing his eyelids closed, I set him adrift.I supposed the other two had either drifted off or were trapped in the cabin below.I was glad we hadn’t run into them on our way out of the boat.I might never have made it to the surface if that had happened.“You know this boat,” I shouted as I pushed the body away.“We’re going to need to salvage some gear.”When I turned back to the helm, he ducked his head underwater, only to resurface a few seconds later with a waterproof flashlight in one hand and an emergency flare kit in the other.His teeth were chattering when he handed them to me.“Terrific,” I said, taking the box from him.Once we opened it, though, the plastic case was full of water and the flare gun was useless.The cartridges were sodden and fell apart in our hands.There was a sealed packet of two handheld flares, though, and they looked clean and dry inside the plastic.“Zale, look at the way you’re shaking.Maybe we’ll use one of these later to start a fire onshore.Where did your dad keep his life jackets?”“I know of something better,” he said, and he took about three deep breaths and dove off the flybridge.As a woman, at least I had a little—okay, more than a little— padding on my body to act as insulation against this cold.Zale was all skin and bones.How could he keep going back into that water like that? Had it been lighter I would have been able to see him down there, but I could only make out the faint yellow glow of the flashlight.He surfaced a few seconds later with two mesh dive bags and two full-length wet suits.“Kid, you are amazing.I was just starting to think about how the hell we were going to get dry and warm.These just may save our lives.”“That one’s my dad’s.We used to come down to the Keys during the lobster mini-season sometimes.It should fit you okay.”We stripped down to our underwear, turning our backs to each other with a modesty that, under the circumstances, seemed a little ridiculous.Then we pulled on the wet suits.Nick’s suit fit me well enough, though it was a little tight round the hips and loose in the shoulders.Even though they weren’t very heavy neoprene suits, we stopped losing heat at such a rapid rate as soon as we zipped them up.We threw our clothes and shoes up on the flybridge console.“I think we’d better swim to the island,” I said, “while there’s still a little light left.”Across Biscayne Bay, the lights on the mainland were starting to wink on.The high-rises of the city of Miami were glowing in the evening haze, and while we could make out the lights of the Turkey Point Power Plant, most of the rest of the coast was dark.We’d need to get out of this water as soon as possible.Then we could build a fire, try to find some shelter from the wind.“Zale, there’s a ranger station a few miles south of here on Elliot.We could try to walk it tonight or wait until first light.Even closer, there are some buildings up on Boca Chita, about a mile away.I’m sure there wouldn’t be any boats out there in this weather, but we’d find shelter.”Zale shook his head.“We’ve got to get back tonight.Like you said, we’ve got to get my mom out of jail.”“But there’s no way we can do that, Zale.We can’t swim across to the mainland,” I said, pointing to the dark shape on the horizon speckled with scattered pricks of light
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