Chapter One
The waters stretched out to the horizon, swallowing the world.
Amaris Mitchell adjusted the halter strap of her yellow sundress, determined to remain calm as she followed her family down A&B Marina’s long pier toward the ocean ahead. Each slap of her flip-flops against the weatherworn wooden planks served as a reminder that very little stood between her and the godforsaken bottomless pit below.
“Mom?” Emmett peeked over his shoulder, concern wrinkling his sunburned thirteen-year-old brow. “Doing okay back there?”
“I’m good, sweetie.” Lying through her teeth, Amaris was rewarded with a grin. “In fact, I think all this…scenery…is absolutely beautiful.”
This claim was at least half true. Florida’s Key West offered a bustling island culture brimming with color and liveliness. Amaris had even made her peace with catching an occasional glimpse of the dark-blue expanse beyond the buildings and intermixed groups of tourists and locals.
But her proximity to the ocean did little to inspire awe in her heart.
Terror. That’s a more accurate term.
A close call with drowning when she was only ten had made deep water public enemy number one for life, and this vacation to the Keys was David’s grand scheme. A surprise Christmas present for her and the kids that had been waiting in her stocking.
Amaris skidded to a stop at the end of the dock, where a boat awaited a mere ten feet ahead.
“Come on, Mom.” Hannah, sixteen going on twenty-eight, flashed her a playful smile. “You can just sit in the boat. You don’t have to touch a drop of water. Close your eyes and pretend you’re in a beach chair.”
Not a hint of fear showed on Hannah’s pretty, suntanned face. A confident and athletic junior in high school, she loved swimming and had her sights set on becoming a marine biologist.
For Amaris’s daughter, this vacation was a dream come true.
“How about I find an actual beach chair on solid ground and don’t have to pretend?” Amaris winked, immensely proud of Hannah but equally aware that she and her daughter were two very different people.
“Sounds fair to me.” David put an arm around her waist, pulling her to the side of the pier and sending a fresh stab of panic through her. “You sure this is okay? I don’t think I’ve ever felt like more of an idiot than I do right now. Vacations are supposed to be fun. You’re miserable.”
Amaris stepped back to the middle of the dock. “I’m not miserable. We needed to get away and relax, and the kids are having an amazing time. I’ll have plenty of fun shopping and maxing out all the credit cards as payback while you all go out. Just keep an eye on them. They’re great swimmers, but our swimming pool back in Ohio and the ocean are two entirely different beasts.”
“Got it. Whatever makes you happy.” David planted a kiss on her lips and then waved at Emmett and Hannah. “Come give your mom a hug before we leave. She was very brave to come this far.”
Amaris happily accepted the rush of squeezes and affection that followed.
“Have fun, Mom.” Emmett hugged her extra hard. “You deserve a break.”
She pointed at his underwater camera. “Take lots of pictures. And stay close to your father. And the tour guide. And the boat.”
Hannah wrapped an arm around Emmett’s shoulders. “I’ll keep the twerp in line. Promise.”
Standing side by side, Amaris’s kids were almost the same height, despite the three-year age difference. With their matching dark-brown hair and hazel eyes, they were every bit her minis. If Amaris were thirty years younger, she and Hannah could’ve passed for twins.
“I love you to the moon and back.” Amaris gulped down the lump of guilt rising in her throat. “Have the best time.”
Your children are sailing out to sea with their father. And you’re just going to stand here and watch it happen. Coward.
While Hannah and Emmett raced each other to the boat, David planted one last kiss on her cheek. “See ya soon. Love you.”
Amaris employed every ounce of positivity to retain her composure and send her family off with a smile. The farther their boat sailed away, the more she felt like sobbing. She hadn’t asked to be cursed with this phobia, and the separation from the ones she loved most suddenly became a tangible loss. Damn near unbearable.
No one was safe in the ocean. Catastrophe could strike at any moment. What if she never saw her babies again?
“They’ll be back.” Swiping a tear from her cheek, Amaris returned a final wave to the dot on the horizon that was her family. “You seriously have to chill the heck out.”
She turned toward civilization, reminding herself of all the stores she’d wanted to explore. The kids had groaned at the idea of following their mother around boutiques and souvenir shops.
Not a problem now.
She made quick time of rejoining the land-roaming individuals ahead, settling into the friendly, laid-back atmosphere with a steeled resolve to make the best of an uncomfortable situation.
She was one hundred percent certain David hadn’t brought her here to torture her.
“So why should I waste this vacation torturing myself?”
Slipping into a souvenir shop claiming to be The Ultimate Treasure Trove of Trinkets & Gifts, Amaris gradually left her troubles at the dock, distracted by the colorful multitude of magnets, t-shirts, tote bags, and figurines.
She selected a green glass turtle for Hannah and a blue glass dolphin for Emmett, as well as a baseball hat for her husband sporting a Key West Is the Best logo. After paying for the items, Amaris moved on to a boutique a few stores down.
The bright dresses hanging in the window had caught her eye earlier. She hadn’t packed nearly enough clothing to keep up with the sun and the heat of the Keys, and she’d quickly learned that sundresses were the only way to stay covered without melting beneath clingy fabric.
Amaris waded through the collection of patio tables and chairs clustered outside the storefronts. Most seats were filled with senior citizens—retirees and tourists alike—taking a break from the hot sun beneath sprawling yellow umbrellas.
A multitude of chess games, picnic lunches, and friendly chatter warmed her heart as she moved. Such a beautiful way of life down here on the islands. Folks seemed determined to enjoy every minute of their days.
Not a bad lesson to take back to Ohi—
“Darn it.” A hoarse voice interrupted her thoughts.
Amaris glanced toward the sound. An elderly man beside a nearby patio table struggled to crouch, reaching for a folded map lying inches from her feet. His straw hat tipped precariously, revealing damp strands of white hair peeking beneath the brim.
The movement caused him visible pain, reminding her of her grandfather, who’d passed away five years prior. Gramps had barely been able to walk two steps in a row toward the end of his life, but asking for help was something he’d avoided to his very last day.
Sympathy flickered through her.
“I’ll get it for you.” Amaris bent, a pang of guilt in her chest as she realized just how easily she could do so in comparison to the elderly soul beside her.
The map was stiff. Freshly folded. Brand new. The man must be a tourist like her. She wondered if perhaps this trip to Key West was on his bucket list.
Brave. But I hope you’re not here all alone.
They stood together, and a faint wisp of white powder blew across her face. Amaris coughed, blinking against the dust. Chalk? Baby powder? She handed him the map.
“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry.” He accepted the offering, his wide-brimmed Panama hat shielding most of his face as he tried to straighten. “The locals told me to put chalk in the folds of my map to keep it from sticking together. I might just sweat my belly off if I stay here too long. This humidity’s something else.”
“It is.” Amaris cleared her throat, finally making eye contact with the gentleman. Tinted glasses protected his eyes from the Florida sun, and a thick white beard covered most of his face.
Like Santa Claus on vacation.
“Thank you for your help.” He dipped his chin, tucking the map into the shirt pocket of his pink flamingo button-down. “I hope you have a wonderful day, young lady.”
Amaris sputtered out a giggle. Many moons had passed since anyone referred to her as a young lady. “You, too, sir.”
Wiping the back of her hand across her nose to ensure the chalky powder was gone, Amaris considered the old man as he lowered himself into a patio chair.
When I get to be that age, I hope I’m as adventurous.
Thoughts of the pier and the infinite ocean beyond sent a shiver down her spine. As long as those awaiting adventures all took place on land, she’d be fine.
A gentle tinkling of bells as she entered the shop soothed away any remaining anxiety. “Welcome to She Sells Seashells!” The exuberant greeting from a perky-faced twentysomething. “I’m Kellyn. Let me know if I can help with anything.”
Amaris smiled at the deeply tanned girl. “I will. Thank you.”
Kellyn bobbed her head in response, her attention focused deeply on the phone in her hands. As her long blond hair swished forward, hiding her face, the young woman reminded Amaris of Hannah when she locked in on her social media feed.
If the internet ever went down, these kids might not make it.
Intending to head straight for the window display of sundresses, Amaris spotted a spinning rack loaded with beach-themed bracelets and necklaces. She zeroed in on a silver starfish hanging from a delicate chain.
Hannah would love that. Oh heck, who am I kidding? I would love that. Maybe I could get us both one.
A quick scan of the other jewelry found matching bracelets with a tinier version of the starfish charm.
“Necklace and bracelet? Or just the necklace?” she murmured to herself, envisioning the jewelry on her beautiful daughter. “Hannah might say it’s too matchy-matchy to get both. Maybe just some beaded bracelets and the starfish necklace instead.”
Reaching for the necklace, Amaris gasped as the world lurched. Her knees wobbled. Her heart pounded.
She placed a hand on the stand to steady herself, swaying as the rotating rack circled slightly to the left.
Rest hadn’t been a part of their itinerary since they’d arrived in Key West two days ago, and fatigue was bound to make an appearance at some point.
Luckily, the rental bungalow David had reserved for them was less than a five-minute walk away. Air-conditioning and a short nap on the cool linen sheets would have her back to normal in no time.
Amaris hated to leave the necklaces behind, but another dizzy spell hit. She’d come back later.
She stumbled through the entrance, tripping over the threshold and nearly toppling onto the sidewalk. Though she managed to stay upright, fear stabbed at her gut as the world began to blur. She struggled forward, increasingly embarrassed and growing weaker by the second.
When her legs began to buckle, she’d almost accepted the fact that a full-blown fainting episode was imminent when the old man with the big white beard appeared before her.
The pink flamingos on his sleeve seemed to dance as he swung an arm beneath her shoulder and around her back, serving as a human crutch. “I’ve got you, young lady. Don’t you worry.”
Grateful for the assistance, Amaris attempted to vocalize her appreciation but could barely manage a coherent mumble. Thoughts became slower. Foggy.
Her knight in shining armor led her forward as people passed right and left. Chitchat and laughter filled the air, and no one seemed to take notice of the little old man and his increasingly feeble companion.
He couldn’t…pick up…the map. But he’s holding me up now.
The stranger led her to a nearby car and maneuvered her into the passenger seat, even taking the time to pull the belt across her chest.
“There you go, sweetie.” He snapped the buckle into place. “Let’s get you cooled off and feeling better, okay?”
Amaris could no longer speak.
***
Harsh afternoon sunlight beat against Amaris’s face as the rhythmic rocking of a boat pulled her awake. For most people, drifting on soft ocean waves would have been a dream come true.
For her, the scene was out of her worst nightmare.
Propped upright against the side of a small sailboat, she swallowed down the panic-induced vomit rising in her throat. She tried to stand but couldn’t move her hands or feet. They’d been firmly tied at the wrists and ankles.
And her clothes. What was she wearing?
The yellow sundress was gone, replaced by a flowing white toga-like garment. Someone had taken off her clothes. Someone had touched her.
“…and she shall be purified. In the darkness, she becomes light.”
Amaris turned toward the voice, goose bumps breaking out across every inch of her body as icy dread trickled through her veins.
Dressed in full scuba gear, a man sitting on an overturned bucket talked to himself while he weaved what appeared to be dried seaweed into a braid. The wet suit and mask made actual identification impossible, but Amaris knew who he was.
“What’s…name?” She attempted to speak with an assertive voice, only to have her words tumble out in a shaky flow of apprehension. “Why am I here?”
He ignored her, his mouth still forming sentences she couldn’t quite make out now.
Little old man, my ass.
Anger edged its way around her terror. “What did you do to me?” Had he poisoned her with his chalk? Why? “What do you want? Why bring me here?”
The man continued his quiet chanting as though Amaris didn’t exist at all.
This person—whether he was the frail stranger or someone she’d been passed to—might have already taken what he wanted while she couldn’t fight back.
She’d been stripped naked at some point, after all.
“Why did you change my clothes?” Amaris managed a steadier tone even as the constant lap of the ocean waves surged through her mind like a death knell. “What have you done to me?”
“You haven’t been harmed, I promise.” The braided seaweed hung lifeless in his hands. “I only adorned you in the proper garment for your purification.”
Amaris struggled against her binds. “My what?”
He’s insane. I have to do something. Fight him. Knock him into the water.
But the rope didn’t give an inch. Even if she miraculously broke free, her paralyzing fear of the ocean would likely render her a zombie long before she could harm a full-grown man.
“Your purification.” He stood, an actual smile stretching his lips wide. “You live your life in fear. I’ve observed what great measures you’ve taken to avoid the ocean since your family’s arrival. You allow that fear to make decisions for you. But after today, you’ll be free. The ocean has chosen you.”
Amaris’s teeth began to chatter. She and her family had only arrived in Key West two days prior—or was it three?—and somehow, within that short period of time, this nutjob had stalked her? Selected her? “I’m not…I’m not s-scared—”
He held up a hand, the gentle grin still in place. “Stop. There’s no need for pretense now. Your white gown declares your willingness to be cleansed.”
“No, it—”
He stepped closer and dropped the seaweed around her neck. “This necklace declares your desire to become one with the ocean. And your ring is the piece of your old self that passes through to the freedom awaiting on the other side.”
The waves kicked up all around them, tossing the boat like toy.
Panic crashed over Amaris just as hard. She was seven again, trapped beneath dark water, lungs burning as she clawed toward a surface she couldn’t reach.
The man terrified her.
The ocean terrified her more.
“My ring is the…the what…” Her words cut off with a moan of dread.
“See?” He grabbed her arm and lifted her to her feet without a single sign of struggle. “Your aversion to the water consumes you. Dictates who you are.”
The endless blue sea stole away her ability to form words or even thoughts. She froze into a statue.
The man leaned in closer. “What you fear will become your freedom. The water will cleanse you of all weaknesses. You will rise, just as I once did.” He pushed her against the edge of the sailboat.
This is all a dream. Just a nightmare. I’m going to wake up in bed next to David any second now.
“I commit this woman, every fiber of her soul, to the all-powerful, all-loving ocean. Purify her fear with your depths. Fill her lungs with true peace.”
Amaris opened her mouth and screamed just as he pushed.
Ocean swallowed the sound. Saltwater flooded her nose and mouth. Her bound arms and legs flailed uselessly as blind panic took over. Up. She had to swim up.
But she was sinking. The fading sunlight proved this terrible truth. Swimming was impossible without the use of her limbs. And how long could she hold her breath?
Ripples spread across the sunlit surface as her tormentor followed her in. He swam toward her, bubbles streaming from his regulator. One hand held an underwater camera trained on her as she drifted farther from the light.
I’m dying, and he’s making a movie. A play-by-play of my suffering.
Amaris hated the man more than she’d ever hated anyone or anything in her entire life. More than she hated the ocean.
She closed her eyes, refusing to watch him watch her die.
Emmett. Somewhere out on that water right now, taking pictures of fish and coral, grinning behind his mask, no idea his mother was drowning a mile away.
Hannah, who swam like she’d been built for it, who would’ve had her mother free in ten seconds if she’d only—
David. David, I’m sorry. She should have told him she was scared. She should have said it out loud instead of smiling through it.
As the water grew darker, the burn in her chest stopped being about air. It became something else—a pressure building behind her ribs, a scream with nowhere to go. Her body didn’t care that she knew what would happen if she opened her mouth. It didn’t care about her husband or children or the promise she’d made to come back. It only cared about that pressure, and it would do anything to end it.
Her mouth opened.
Saltwater poured in. It burned down her throat, into the place air should have been, filling her chest like concrete. Her body convulsed against the rope, some last animal part of her still trying to reach the surface even as the rest of her went heavy, and heavier, and she stopped fighting the rope, stopped fighting anything, because there was nothing left to fight with.
I should have gone with them. I should have…
Chapter Two
Ivy Chance slapped a creamy peanut butter-laden slice of wheat bread onto its grape-jelly counterpart. She cut off the crusts before cutting the sandwich into her four-year-old’s preferred choice of two triangles.
Perfect. The Olive Alexandria Chance approved PB&J at its finest.
Starting over at a new school was a tough break for any kid, but Ivy hadn’t realized just how nervous her normally extroverted, up-for-anything daughter truly was until the previous night. Cuddling beneath Olive’s purple comforter, they hadn’t made it through one entire book before Olive asked a question that damn near broke Ivy’s heart.
“Do I really have to go to school tomorrow, Mommy? I want to stay with you.”
The plea in Olive’s giant brown eyes—a near mirror of Ivy’s—had almost convinced Ivy to tell her daughter that she never had to go to school ever again.
Ivy’s transfer from the Miami field office to the Key West Violent Crime Unit was an unexpected change for them both. Olive was halfway through her year of pre-K and, in true Olly fashion, had made several best friends already.
Tearing her daughter away from all that was familiar had felt like a betrayal of the worst sort. One that Ivy desperately hoped Olive wouldn’t hold against her as she grew up.
I didn’t just take her from Miami or her teachers and friends and home. I took her away from family. From the Stubblefields.
Wendy and Nathan Stubblefield had taken Ivy in as a foster daughter when she was fourteen years old, rescuing her from an abusive environment and depraved father.
“Depraved adoptive father,” Ivy muttered to herself as she placed Olive’s sandwich in a hot-pink bento box.
The comfort of knowing she didn’t share a drop of Darren Pierce’s DNA was a truth Ivy kept near and dear. That man had tainted her childhood, but he was only a shadow of her past. Just a bad memory who’d lost control over her seventeen years ago.
Wendy and Nathan were her real parents, even if she refrained from calling them Mom and Dad. The monikers didn’t matter. What mattered was they’d welcomed her into their home and given her an opportunity to be part of a loving family while navigating her teenage years. Ivy had even gained a sister and partner in crime of sorts in their daughter, Madison.
Consequently, the Stubblefields were Olive’s grandparents in every way that mattered. Madi was her aunt. And after losing her father before she’d been old enough to even know him, Olive needed all the family she could get.
Yet here we are.
The transfer was an opportunity Ivy hadn’t been able to pass up. Short-term and long-term, the financial uptick benefited them both. But explaining the semantics of that to a four-year-old was a lost cause.
Ivy packed in a handful of green grapes next to a stack of baby carrots. The soft pad of Olive’s little feet coming down the hallway yanked her from the somber mood clouding the tiny kitchen of their new home.
Stretching her lips into the biggest smile she could manage, she turned to greet her baby girl. “Good morning, sweet Olly.”
Olive halted at the kitchen doorway, one leg of her striped pajamas pushed up to the knee and creases from her pillowcase lining her round cheeks. Mrs. Bumble, the stuffed brown rabbit who followed Olive everywhere, was clutched tightly under one arm.
“Triangles?” Olive eyed her lunch with a raised brow.
“Of course.” Ivy bent and opened her arms. “Hug?”
Without hesitation, Olive barreled forward, rubbing her mass of dark messy curls into Ivy’s shoulder. “Can I watch Henry while I eat breakfast?”
Henry the Hoot Owl had been an animated singing staple in Olive’s young life. Ivy couldn’t transport the Stubblefields to Key West, but Henry was always as close as the nearest television screen or tablet.
“You got it.” Ivy guided her into the living room and onto the couch. “I’ll flip on Henry and bring you some cereal.”
Twenty minutes and one bowl of organic banana granola later, Olive’s blurry-eyed stare had cleared. Ivy prepared for what might be a struggle, needing to get Olive dressed and ready while fully aware her daughter wanted to stay put.
Their new apartment was stark and small in comparison to what they’d left behind.
I’ve got to get some more furniture in here. Get these boxes out of sight. Make the place more like home and less like a glorified storage shed.
One week in Key West hadn’t been enough to unpack, decorate, and prepare for her new role with the FBI while also comforting Olive through their shared homesickness. Ivy wished there were two of her. One to work and take care of practical things and another to spend every second of every day with her daughter.
“Do you miss Daddy like I miss Grandpa and Grandma?” Olive’s question, delivered with genuine curiosity and the easy boldness that only a young kid could manage, took Ivy completely off guard.
Setting Olive’s readied lunch box next to her backpack near the front door, Ivy turned to find her little girl holding the one keepsake Ivy had managed to unpack and display prominently on the end table. A picture of Alex—the father and husband who’d loved them both so dearly.
Ivy took a deep breath and joined Olive on the couch, smiling down at Alex’s handsome face despite her insides twisting in agony.
The photo was one of her absolute favorites. She’d taken it herself on a day they’d adventured out with baby Olive on a fly-fishing excursion. Alex had begged her to give the sport—one of his favorite hobbies—a try, and Ivy didn’t really mind doing anything as long as her little family was together.
That was also the day I found out I was a horrible fisher.
Alex had said, “You couldn’t catch a fish if it swam into your hands.” And he was right.
She’d laughed until her stomach ached that day.
Yet for almost the past four years, there’d been a much darker reason for the constant throbbing pain deep down in her gut.
“I do miss Daddy like you miss Grandpa and Grandma.” Ivy pulled Olive closer. “But remember, they’ll visit us, and we’ll visit them. All the time.”
The promise was true. Miami was only three and a half hours away.
Olive peeked up at Ivy. “But Daddy can’t visit.” She gripped a strand of Ivy’s long brown hair, wrapping it around her pointer finger, something she only did when she was anxious.
Ivy swallowed, battling to keep her composure as a fresh influx of guilt pummeled her. “Daddy doesn’t need to visit, Olly. He’s with us all the time. And look.” She grinned and pointed at the photograph. “You’ve got his curly hair and his big dimples. He’s with you, and he’s a part of you. He helped make my little Olive so special.”
Chewing at her lower lip, Olive placed a finger on Alex’s face. “Yeah. I guess so. But we have brown eyes, Mommy. Daddy’s are blue like the ocean.”
A sob billowed in Ivy’s chest, catching at her throat before subsiding under the sheer force of her willpower. Crying on Olive’s first day at a new school was unacceptable.
At the very least, she had to get Olive there before she broke down.
“You’re right.” Ivy forced herself to hold the agony at bay. “Your daddy’s eyes were very, very blue.”
Like brilliant aquamarine. One of the first things I noticed about him.
“Tell me a story about Daddy.”
Her resolve crumbling, Ivy dove into the first memory she could scramble up. “Well, your daddy loved to laugh and have fun. He used to twirl you up in the air when you were a baby. He’d spin you in circles, and you’d giggle and giggle. But one time, Daddy tripped while he was twirling you, and he fell over.” Ivy widened her eyes for theatrical effect.
“Oh, no!” Olive slapped her hands to her cheeks, despite having heard the tale many times. “Then what happened?”
“Then,” Ivy loved telling the story almost as much as Olive loved hearing it, “your daddy made sure he fell onto the floor first, so you landed right on top of him, safe and sound.”
Olive nodded, approving Ivy’s version of the sacred event. “Because Daddy loved me and didn’t want me to get hurt.”
Ivy wished there were a way to describe just how crazily he’d loved his baby girl. “Yes. He loved us both more than anything. He would’ve done anything to keep us safe. Because…”
This was Olive’s favorite part. She nearly shouted the ending. “He was the best daddy in the whole world!”
Pure, unadulterated joy lifted Olive’s expression to something beyond her normal bubbly demeanor. The sight was a balm to Ivy’s soul, but grief—still fresh and as alive as Alex would always be in her heart—seared through her body at what they’d lost.
Lost? Stolen. Taken from us both. Ripped away.
Ivy gave Olive a quick squeeze and stood, aware she must get moving before the heavy presence of her dead husband consumed her. “We gotta get going, Olly. You can’t be late to school on your first day.”
“Just one more thing, Mommy.” Olive raised an authoritative finger high in the air. “I wanna see the treasure. Then I’ll get dressed. I promise.”
Indulging Olive a bit after uprooting her entire life was the least Ivy could do. “Okay. But quick.” She followed her daughter down the hallway to the master bedroom.
Olive beelined for the tiny wooden keepsake box on Ivy’s dresser and pushed the lid open. “I found the treasure.” Pulling out the larger of two gold rings from the box, Olive slipped it onto her thumb. Her tiny nose scrunched with disappointment. “Still too big.”
“It’ll fit someday.” Ivy gave Olive a moment to admire the “treasure” before gently removing the ring and placing it back in the box beside her own wedding band. Before she’d joined the FBI, when she still worked as a public defender and was attempting to function in a new reality without Alex, she’d switched to wearing both rings on a chain around her neck. There’d been comfort in keeping a tangible part of Alex so close after his death.
But her work as a federal agent made wearing the treasured bands impractical. Risky. The thought of losing them while performing her sometimes very physical job was too painful to process, so Ivy had kept them in the tiny box for the last year and a half.
Olive hopped to it after that, keeping her promise and getting ready for school with a determination and speed that reassured Ivy her little girl would prevail through the heaviness of their move, given some time.
They rushed out the door of their ground floor apartment—one of eight units divided between two stories—and past the complex’s pool that was the first amenity Olive had readily approved of on her initial visit to their new home.
The drive to Little Banyan Early Learning Center took all of six minutes. Ivy had a feeling she’d come to appreciate the close proximities of island life, though it’d take some getting used to. Miami was a big city where traffic, at times, moved ridiculously slow.
What Key West and Miami shared without question was the vivid color palette of homes and businesses set against an endless blue sky and showered in sunshine. Beauty radiated all around them, courtesy of nature and human creativity alike.
But also danger. Ivy sensed the lies hiding just beneath the surface of paradise. There was always more to the story than palm trees and friendly smiles.
“Ready to go in?” Ivy parked her Mazda CX-5, pleased with the cheerful picket fence surrounding the clustered white-sided buildings sprawled across actual grass. Green shutters on every window gave the school a homey feel.
Olive just stared past her shoulder at the activity outside while Ivy unbuckled her from her seat.
Ivy led them up the sidewalk to the entrance, where teachers and guides mixed with a small crowd of parents and children. She’d never been good at keeping up with the nonstop chatter of the moms and dads at Olive’s school in Miami. Being the quiet one in the crowd wasn’t anything new.
She managed a few nods and smiles, though, relieved that Olive had inherited her father’s outgoing enthusiasm instead of her own solemn broodiness.
But Olive still clung to her hand. Even with the bright, open atmosphere.
“Ms. Chance?” A smiling woman with a blond pixie cut approached them, giving Ivy a wave before focusing on her daughter. “You must be Olive. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Miss Bean, and we’re going to have so much fun today.”
Olive’s grip loosened the tiniest bit. “I like beans. But only the green ones. Are you my teacher?”
“I’m one of them…and I only like the green beans too.” With one simple sentence and a smile, Miss Bean had already ingratiated herself to Olive. “I have some really cool pictures just waiting to be colored over on that table. Does that sound like fun?”
Ivy watched her daughter’s brown eyes sparkle with excitement as she pulled her hand free. Olive gave Ivy a fleeting look and a quick, “Bye, Mommy,” before shooting off to where the other kids were already hard at work on their masterpieces.
“She’s going to be fine.” Miss Bean stepped closer to Ivy, smiling even wider now. “In fact, the parents sometimes find they have a harder time with the first day at a new school than the kids do.”
Ivy had already met Miss Bean when she registered Olive. Her gentle demeanor was one of the reasons Ivy had chosen the school and its unconventional setup.
There was an aura of kindness at the early learning center that Ivy believed to be completely genuine. And in a world that could be cruel and calculated, even to children, finding places where Olive could bloom and grow in peace was everything.
Ivy excused herself and made a quick and quiet exit. She wasn’t ready for the questions yet.
Other parents always had questions.
“Where are you from?”
“Do you have more children?”
“What do you and your husband do for a living?”
The first day of Olive’s new school was too soon for Ivy to let the deluge of well-meaning parental curiosity find her. Aside from that, she had to conserve energy for her own first day anxieties as well.
Ivy returned to her SUV and let it idle for a moment, scanning over the school grounds for—
What? Snipers? Drug dealers? Calm the hell down.
She took a deep breath. “Olly is safe here. I know it.”
Safe was a dangerous word. One that Ivy would never fully trust again.
Wanting to feel more in control—safe—was how she’d ended up at Quantico, seeking a career change from public defender to FBI agent.
It was the same instinct that drove her to Alex’s grave three years back, where she’d made sure Saul Holloway would never hurt another person again. Killing the man who murdered her husband had changed her. She couldn’t save Alex, but she could take down monsters like Holloway.
Ivy backed her vehicle onto the street and pulled into island traffic with a renewed sense of purpose. Key West didn’t feel like home just yet, but it was exactly where they belonged.
A new home. A new start. A deadly welcome.
Transferring to the Key West Violent Crimes Unit was supposed to be a fresh start for FBI Special Agent Ivy Chance and her four-year-old daughter after her husband was murdered in cold blood.
A tropical refuge.
A place to heal.
Turns out, paradise is lethal.
The seemingly peaceful waters of the Florida Keys harbor a macabre underwater graveyard. Men and women wearing… Read More