The darkness grew swiftly and he no longer felt the need to stall. But the clouds got worse the farther north he went. He decreased his altitude until he was flying a thousand feet above the water. He could not stay at such a height. He had to leap from at least two thousand feet to have any chance of maneuvering toward the boat. He had hoped to be a mile high. But even if he had an hour in the air with a parachute, it would do him no good if there was no boat beneath him.

He forced himself to focus on his GPS. The coordinates could not lie. But not even a zealot such as himself would leap from a plane without seeing the boat lights. He did not want to die. Certainly, he did not want to drown all because of a girl he hated.

He spoke to the Ventura tower, told them everything was A-OK. They asked why he was flying so low, and he explained about the clouds. They wished him Godspeed. But how would the experts explain why he suddenly increased his altitude just before he crashed? They would have their theories. Fortunately, he would not have to be there to answer their questions. Nor would the wreckage of his plane be located in such deep water. The Coast Guard would send out a boat to make official the paperwork, nothing more. No one would expect to find his body.

But he had to increase his height! His instruments told him he should already be able to see the flashing lights. Where was that damn boat? The ocean was a dark gray soup. He scanned with his binoculars and saw nothing. This was insane, the boat could not have drifted from where he had anchored it!

Then he understood. He still had a thin layer of cloud beneath him. What he had thought was water was in reality mist. He had to drop lower, down to five hundred feet. Now he played a dangerous game. If he got confused even slightly, he would crash into the water and die.

At five hundred feet he saw the lights. Two miles directly in front of him. The boat had indeed drifted slightly north. It had probably gotten caught in an exceptionally powerful current, and his spare anchor must have lost its grip on the ocean floor.

Immediately Matt banked upward. He would lose sight of the boat above the clouds. He would have to estimate when to jump. Jesus, he had not put on his wet suit yet! He had forgotten all about it, and now there was no time.