Kathy Brandt - Swimming with the Dead: An Underwater Investigation

Praise for Swimming with the Dead

Hannah Sampson is a cop, but with a twist. Shes in charge of the Denver Police Departments dive and recovery teamretrieving evidence and investigating underwater crime scenes. For her, diving is a job, not recreation. Swimming with the Dead reminded me of the early Kay Scarpetta mysteries by Patricia Cornwell. I remember thinking when I read the first Scarpetta that it was going to make a great, long-lived series... the writing smooth, the heroine strong and yet vulnerable, the whole concept intriguing.... Ditto for Swimming with the Dead . I think it may be an even better series.

Mystery News

A likable, exuberant heroine, the fascinating world of scuba diving, and a fast-paced plot make Swimming with the Dead the kind of mystery that takes hold of you and doesnt let go until the last paragraph. A terrific debut for Kathy Brandt.

Margaret Coel, New York Times bestselling author of Killing Raven

Debut author Kathy Brandt sets the stage for a thrilling, fast-paced series featuring Hannah Sampson, head of Denver Homicides Dive & Recovery Team. Hold on to your hats for this one! Packed with a wide array of characters and loads of diving know-how, Kathy Brandts personal experience shines through in this taut mystery. From beginning to end, Swimming with the Dead will keep you on the edge of your seat.

Roundtablereviews.com

Books by Kathy Brandt

Books Published by NAL/Penguin

Swimming with the Dead
Dark Water Dive
Dangerous Depths
Under Pressure

Swimming with the Dead

An Underwater Investigation

Kathy Brandt

Beyond the Page Books

are published by

Beyond the Page Publishing

www.beyondthepagepub.com

Copyright 2003 by Kathy Brandt

Excerpt from Dark Water Dive copyright 2004 by Kathy Brandt

First digital edition copyright 2011 by Kathy Brandt

Cover design and illustration by Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs

ISBN: 978-1-937349-12-7

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this book. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of both the copyright holder and the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Your support of the authors rights is appreciated.

Acknowledgments

Thanks to Jack Zaengle, Detective Supervisor, Underwater Criminal Investigations, for sharing his expertise about underwater forensics. To Trevor Aronson and Linda Meininger of Dive Rescue International; Lt. Tim Trujillo, Dive Team Leader, Denver Fire Department, Engine 3; Rick Leivas, Dive Coordinator, Desert Hills Fire Department; and the Mesa, Arizona, Fire Department Dive Team for sharing their knowledge about dive rescue and recovery. Any errors are mine.

Special thanks to my editor, Genny Ostentag, and to my agent, Jacky Sach. And thanks to my sisters for their faith and enthusiasm.

Most important, my deepest gratitude and love to Ron, my partner in adventure, for his advice and support and for taking this journey with me.

Dedication

For Jessi and Matthew,

with all my love

Contents

Prologue: The British Virgin Islands

On the last day that he would live, he sat on the bow of the Lucky Lady , legs dangling over the side. Hed left the marina early, in light still muted pastel. Now the sky was saturated with intensity. The horizon brilliant with reds, oranges, and yellows spread across the glassy surface up to the water beneath his feet.

Hed had no trouble locating the wreck and tying up to the mooring. After a year exploring the waters of the British Virgins, he knew them like the rooms of his childhood. Now, he sat waiting and enjoying the fleeting solitude. The sea was silent except for the gentle splashing of the boat rocking in the water and an occasional bar jack breaking the surface as it darted after its prey.

Finally he rose. Hed waited long enough. Hed left word for the chief to meet him out at the site, an old ship resting at the bottom, right below his boat. Though not a reckless man, he was impatient. Ever since he was a kid, hed been a solver of riddles, determined to be the first to arrive at a logical and correct conclusion. He would dive the wreck, find what he came for, and be waiting on deck prize in hand when the chief finally arrived.

For a moment he hesitated. Realized that if he were really smart, hed keep his nose out of it. But it was too late now. Besides, hed never been known to keep his nose out of anything.

He made his way to the back of the boat, where he struggled into his wet suit. He attached his air tank and breathing regulator to his dive vest and turned the valve to check the airflow. Good. His gauge indicated a full tank: 3,200 pounds of pressure.

He scanned the horizon. Still no one in sight. Just miles of dark, empty water. He didnt dive alone if he could help it, but conditions here were not difficult, maximum depth seventy feet, no current.

He knew that swimming into a wreck was dangerous and that he would need to watch himself, avoid catching a hose and cutting it on jagged metal or getting lost in the maze of passageways. But he had dived the wreck dozens of times, even diving alone when hed found no partner. He was more than a competent diver; he was an expert, having logged hundreds of hours under the water. He would make his way into the wreck, find what he was looking for, and get out. It would take less than forty-five minutes.

He hauled his equipment to the back of the boat, put on his fins, tank, and mask, took one more look around, and rolled into the water. He adjusted his face mask, pushed the valve that expelled air from his vest, and went under.

This was the world he lovedserene, slow-moving, mysterious. In moments he was surrounded by hundreds of fish, huge schools of cobia, amberjack, and yellow-tailed snapper. They brushed up against his fins and stayed just out of reach of his fingertips. Every once in a while, he reached out and touched one. As he swam toward the wreck, they trailed behind, a stream of yellow, silver, and blue.

He could barely make out the shape of the old refrigeration ship in the distance. Visibility was poor after the wind and rain of the night before. As he approached, fear caught in his throat for an instant. Every time he dove a wreck, he sensed death hovering in the cavernous, skeletal remains. The hollow structure, black against the blue sea, lay tilted on its side. The crows nest pointed an accusing finger out to sea, condemning whatever force destined the ship to this final resting place. Rigging lines, laden with algae, hung in eerie drapes from the mast, coming to rest on the sea floor.

The wreck was actually teeming with life, an entire ecosystem that had begun years before with just a few tiny larvae. Coral and sponges had transformed the ugly steel hull into a tapestry of color. Angelfish, sergeant majors, wrasse, and damselfish swam through portholes and around cables and beams.