Freezing, she was coughing and choking on the briny seawater, but she didn’t care as she turned the lens on the woman who’d abducted her, the woman glaring at her and standing knee-deep in water.

“Give it back.”

Olivia, seeing the red light was still glowing, kept filming.

“I said, give it back to me right now, you little bitch!”

“Come and get it.” Even if she pulled out a gun, or the Taser again, Olivia wouldn’t give up her prize.

The woman was freaking. “I said…” Her gaze swept the interior of the cage where her pictures were floating in the water. “What? You tore up my album!” Her eyes rounded in pure horror. “No! You couldn’t.” As pages reached the edge of the cage, she reached through, plucking them up. “No…no, this isn’t right! This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.” She picked up each page and held it high overhead, shaking them off. “Oh God, what’s wrong with you? You can’t…” She spied more of the pages inside the cage, far from her, the pictures scattered, the bloody plastic sheaths cast aside.

“No!” She was fumbling with her keys, desperate to retrieve the album. “No, this is all wrong.”

Olivia just kept on filming.

“Look what you’ve done!” She was frantic, desperate to retrieve what was left of the soggy, disintegrating album. “You screwed everything up! You’re ruining everything!” Her frustration and paranoia mounted and for the first time, it seemed, she realized her actions were being caught on camera.

“Give that back to me now!”

Olivia wasn’t in the mood. Shivering, keeping her tormentor in her viewfinder, she said, “You want it, bitch? Then come and get it.”

“There she is!” the skipper yelled over the cutter’s engines and the rush of wind. They were jetting through the dark water, leaving a white wake behind.

“Oh, shit, she’s listing.”

Bentz squinted into the night, saw the Merry Anne in the powerful beam of the search light.

His heart fell to the floor as he saw the skipper was right; the vessel was leaning hard to one side, sinking fast.

“No,” he whispered, disbelieving. “Oh, God, no!” Against everyone’s protests, he’d donned a wet suit with the intent of boarding, but now the captain was pulling up short. “Get closer!”

“No. We’d better leave this to the Guard,” he said. Already rescuers were trying to board the smaller craft. “Just wait.”

Not a chance.

“Pull up closer,” Bentz insisted.

He thought Montoya would argue. Instead, he turned to Hayes and ordered: “Do it.”

The cutter drew alongside the listing boat. “Really Bentz, you should leave this to the professionals,” Hayes warned. They were less than twenty feet from the sinking Merry Anne. “You’ll only get in the way.”

“I am a professional,” Bentz reminded him as he climbed onto the railing. “And it’s my damned wife.”