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CSI Underwater Mysteries
Category:
Mystery/Suspense
Publisher: Beyond the Page Publishing
Type: Fiction
Pages: 272
Copyright: Sept 6, 2011
ISBN-13: 9781937349158
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
Second in the highly acclaimed Hannah Sampson Underwater Investigation Series
Homicide detective Hannah Sampson has traded the Colorado Rockies for the sunnier climes of the British Virgin Islands. But a murdered tourist whose marriage may not have been all smooth sailing--and colleagues eager to sink her career-have left Hannah navigating the stormy waters of betrayal, greed, and murder as cold as the deep blue sea. . . .
Excerpt
Chapter 1
Last night I’d stood on a rickety chair in the Blue Note, one hand over my heart, the other lifting a shot glass filled with tequila. I had taken an oath over the golden liquid.
“I, Hannah Sampson, recently retired homicide detective and team leader of the police scuba team, Denver PD, will never, ever again pull on a goddamned dry suit and dive into icy black water with any of you guys.”
The scuba team had thrown the going away party of all going away parties in my honor. I’d really rubbed it in, celebrating the fact that I would never again dive in water so thick with sediment and contamination that visibility was nonexistent. Never have to swallow the terror of imaginary monsters coming at me out of the muck.
I was thrilled to be leaving it behind. I was headed for sunnier climes, where the only diving I’d do was in crystal-clear, azure salt water. My flight was leaving at 3:12 P.M.
So why the hell, at nine o’clock that morning, did I find myself bouncing around in the back of the dive team van with White, my line tender, and Compton, my relief diver, pulling on the thermals, and getting into that watertight suit? So much for oaths. I was struggling into the right leg of the body-sized rubber glove when Crown, the van’s driver, took one sharp corner too many. I landed on my ass, one leg still up on the bench and tangled in dive gear. Not the first time. Compton thought it was funny.
“Remember, Compton, this is the last time I’m doing this. Think about that the next time you’re the one suiting up in this damned van.”
I finished pulling on the dry suit while sitting safely on the floor. Once I was zipped in, not a drop of foreign water would contaminate my being, but that didn’t mean I’d stay dry. By the time we got to the site, my entire body was clammy from the heat that had built up inside the suit. I’d actually be relieved to step into icy water.
The call had come in a half hour before. A fisherman, invisible in the willows, had seen two people out in a motorboat on Marston Reservoir. They’d been arguing. A shot; then someone went into the water. The other man had sped away.
After last night, the entire dive team had one killer hangover. Damned if Stu Lopez, who was taking my place as dive team leader, didn’t have the tequila flu. He and Mack, my partner in Homicide, had been matching each other shot for shot. Compton and I were the only two who were in any shape to dive. Crown, the driver and in charge of communication, was looking kind of green, but he’d made it in.
Last night none of us had imagined we’d be in demand today. There hadn’t been a call for divers in weeks. The team had insisted on last night’s debacle to send me off. Everyone was paying for it this morning, including me–the one who was retiring.
“Come on, Sampson,” Compton said as he zipped up the back of my suit. “One more for old times’ sake.”
“Yeah, dammit, one more time. This is definitely the last.”
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