We cast off and paddled to the idling boat. I climbed over the rail and ran to the winch, slammed the lever, and anxiously watched as the line coiled slowly around the bobbin.

Alden tied the raft to the boat and stumbled to my side, pulling a pair of loppers from his pack. He reached out and clipped the line.

The sprung end whipped across my face. I cried out and fell back against the railing.

“Alden!” I cupped a hand over my bleeding cheek as my vision cleared. “What are you doing?”

He had moved to the side, where he sawed at the anchor line.

“He knows where the wreck is. He’ll lead a hundred other divers here. They won’t wait for another quake wave or a drought to clear this dark water. They’ll have it stripped clean in a day. And everything we’ve waited for will be gone.”

“I wasn’t waiting for anything. Is this the only reason you stayed?”

“We’ll power the boat out of the inlet and set it adrift.”

“What about Robb? He could die down there. Without his line—”

“Just another diving accident.”

“You heartless fuck.”

“Happens all the time. You think this is the first time a diver’s found the wreck? I ought to throw you in, too. Blabbing secrets to a scavenger.”

“You’re a scavenger. No better than them. Worse. How many divers have you left down there? How many?”

Alden threw the boat in gear and angled it toward open water. He steered against the tide as we wound toward the broad horizon, our raft bouncing along the side.

I watched the black water behind us. It had gone perfectly still. Even the wake of the boat calmed too quickly. There was no sign of the diver.

***

The other divers noticed Robb’s absence. Their competitive nature didn’t follow them ashore. They assumed he’d run out of funding, or hope—or that he’d hit a honey spot and camped out. No one would think the worst for hours. Maybe not till his boat was found. If it was found.

I tried to remember how many times I’d heard this conversation. How many divers had been reported lost. I wondered how many I never even knew about.

Alden laughed with the crews, his twisted feet twitching under the table.

They were still gathered in the lobby, increasingly drunk, riding out the storm with an endless supply of stories on their tongues, when the report came in that Robb’s boat had been found drifting. Al at the West Shore Casino had spotted it. The police were on their way—a courtesy call.

Alden took the phone from my hand. “No. We haven’t seen him since last night. Or was it this morning? Sis, was he there when you got up?” The divers stared into their drinks, cheeks red and ears straining.