Open Water Part 8

The faint commands of the starter could be heard over the incessant chatter of the announcers' voices coming from the huge speakers near the stands. "Ready all crews," was followed by the roll call of the lanes. When the announcer said, "Lane number three, the United States," Amy's response at the start was drowned out by the noise of her teammates on this end of the course cheering loudly, but Ca.s.s watched as Amy's hand rose in response.

Ca.s.s was concentrating intently on the images on the screen, to the exclusion of everything else around her. The camera, which had been zoomed tightly in on the faces of the Chinese crew, suddenly moved with dizzying speed to focus on the U.S. boat. The look of fierce concentration on Laura's face was simply breathtaking, and Ca.s.s found herself mesmerized as she gazed into the larger-than-life features. Once again Laura's gaze flickered up from where it was fixed on Amy's, up to the camera, and Ca.s.s again felt the power of those green eyes shoot through her. It felt for a second as if Laura had looked up at her, directly into her eyes. In the next instant, Laura's gaze was back on Amy's face, her focus complete.

Ca.s.s shook her head and then jumped as a buzzer sounded. It echoed the one at the start and she watched as suddenly all boats were away, each crew digging in for the power ten, ten hard and fast strokes at the start to establish position. Ca.s.s hated watching the camera coverage, because the forced perspective always looked skewed. She wished they'd just do aerial shots.

The boats surged forward, bobbing in and out of the water as the teams settled into their rhythms, lifting up as the women pulled powerfully through the water and settling again as they finished their stroke sequence. Up and down, up and down, Amy bobbing along at the back, a bright red speck tucked into the stern. The U.S. boat quickly flashed past the first buoy-marker and Ca.s.s glanced at the lap timer, then blinked. Wow. She was pretty certain this event would set a new course record.

As the chase boats, referees and camera boats jockeyed for position around the back end of the course, Ca.s.s kept one eye on the giant screen and another on the coach. The benefit of having a c.o.x'd boat was that the coach heard what the rowers in the U.S. boat did. Amy's c.o.x-box also offered a one-way broadcast on a specific channel and coach's headset was tuned to that channel. So were a set of referees, just to make sure the units hadn't been modified to receive signals from any coach. Or anyone else.

She saw Coach nod in satisfaction when the eight surged forward from the start, then, ten strokes in, settle into the rhythm they'd practiced. Tuning out the cheers and encouraging shouts echoing from the stands, Ca.s.s bent all of her focus to the slim blue craft she could now just make out in the distance. G.o.d, from this end it looked like an impossibly long course! The U.S. eight was running straight and true, positioned precisely in the center of the lane. From what she could see on the screen, it looked as if the women were in perfect sync. For a single instant she felt herself swept up again in the simple beauty of her sport. It was so often easy to lose sight of what had drawn her to the sport in the first place; the elegant lines of the scull, the swinging sweep of the oars, the sleek knife-edged cut the craft made through the water. That often got lost in the work of the sport.

The noise of the crowd around her sharply drew Ca.s.s's focus back. The Chinese were going wild. The top two finishers of this race would go on to the medal round, and the long red Chinese eight was surging forward as the sculls neared the halfway mark. Even from the odd warped perspective of the camera crews racing alongside the crews, Ca.s.s could see that this challenge from China would be difficult to fend off. She glanced at Coach's face and was surprised by the look of...what? Fear? Anger? Something wasn't right. Ca.s.s leaned close to her and asked, "What's wrong, Coach?"

Sheila shook her head, her expression tight, her eyes on the women just now coming into focus on this end of the course. Her voice tight, tense, she answered, "Not sure. Amy's giving more directional commands. Not just stroke counts." The coach's words were choppy, her attention on the tiny blue speck that was the U.S. eight craft. Suddenly she shook her head and uttered, "d.a.m.n it!"

Ca.s.s looked from her to the giant screen and felt her heart drop. The U.S. boat was off-center in the lane, just slightly off course. What the h.e.l.l was happening on the water? Just as quickly as they'd moved off center they were back on again, and Ca.s.s saw them correct again. Saw them.

Saw the port side dig a bit deeper to correct.

Saw the starboard side pull again to correct.

Oh c.r.a.p.

Ca.s.s looked again to Sheila's face and suddenly understood. Amy had no rudder control! Without the rudder to steer their course, she had to rely solely on the arm strength and evenness of the crew's strokes. She couldn't make any adjustments, couldn't keep them true. That meant extra work for her and for the women pulling the boat forward with every stroke.

Once again the long blue craft drifted off-center and once again Amy's sharp command to the women in her boat fixed the problem. Ca.s.s suddenly wondered if the broken rudder were slowing the boat down.

As if she'd said it out loud, Sheila muttered, "Something's wrong with that boat." She leaned to her right and waved an a.s.sistant over. "Make sure you have a video camera on that boat from now on until I tell you to stop!" The a.s.sistant nodded as Sheila continued. "Keep the focus on Amy and try to catch any movement by the rudder cable." Again the a.s.sistant nodded. Sheila turned to Ca.s.s. "I'm going to grab an official, I want this lodged immediately." She took two steps away then swore softly, turning back to Ca.s.s. Ripping the headphones off of her head she slapped them into Ca.s.s's hands. "Listen! Call my cell if anything...more...happens."

Stunned, Ca.s.s could only nod. She fumbled with the headset and finally got it settled onto her head in time to hear Amy's sharp command, "Power ten in two, ready? One. Two!" Ca.s.s watched the U.S. boat surge forward again with the new effort. Now she had a steady running commentary in her ear, that single voice drowning out the voices around her.

"Steady, girls! Steady! Two more to go, keep it up, you've got it! Pull! Port side, easy two, now steady on. Good rhythm. We're on the way, girls! Keep steady, don't slip! Six! Watch your angle. Less of the splash, everyone! Fifteen-hundred to go. We pull again in ten, I'll count them for you. And ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, power ten in two and ready? One, two! Hard on it, girls! Hard! Pull hard! Pull!"

Ca.s.s had to remind herself to breathe as she listened, her eyes glued to the boats hurtling down the course toward them. She flicked her gaze back and forth between the image on the screen and the boats slicing through the calm water. The crowd noise was overwhelming as once again the overhead camera focused on the sleek red Chinese boat charging forward. But, as the red boat moved, so too did the white Swiss scull, the women determined not to be left out of the race. Again the U.S. boat slipped slightly off of the centerline of the lane, this time to port, and Amy's sharp correction blasted through the headset, mixed seamlessly with her commands.

"One thousand to go! Starb'd! Steady-on, watch your position! Port, push on! All crew, drive hard, pull hard! You've got this, you have to do it, you have to pull. This is our time, our race! n.o.body takes that from us! Five and six, put your backs into it! Stepping up the rate in two. Ready? One, two! Up two, ladies, up two! It's time, let's roll! Counting down to the last power ten in five, and...five, four, three...ready? One, two!"

If Amy's voice had been sharp before, now it was piercing in Ca.s.s's ear. She could hear an echo of it out on the water, too. Amy's voice drowning in a sea of other c.o.xswains' yells, and all overpowered by the shouts and screams of the fans. Where before they had seemed to crawl to the finish, now they were flying down the lanes. Amy had them on true now and they were surging forward with the other boats.

The crowd went wild as the boats streaked past the stands, the camera and officials' launches in their wake. Past the far end of the stands, past the midline, with the high announcer's booth, past the near end of the stands, lifting out of the water with each stroke, flying down to the finish buoys.

In her ear, Ca.s.s heard Amy scream, "Race five, race five, go! Five! Four! Three! Two! One!" Each count was in time to a stroke, each one coming faster upon the last as Amy increased the stroke speed. This was the racing stroke the team used in the last seconds to propel themselves forward. The slim blue hull surged forward with each pull and now the crews were close enough for Ca.s.s to hear the other c.o.x's yells responding to Amy's call for a final push. The blasts of the finish horn signaled the end of the race, but Ca.s.s wasn't sure who'd placed and where. She jumped up, trying to see, pulling off the headset in the process. As she strained, a hand came down on her shoulder.

"They're out," said Sheila grimly. "Missed the top two by a stroke, it looks like, but I've filed an official inquiry."

"What?" Ca.s.s couldn't believe it. "Out?" You're-" But she stopped, arrested by the look on the coach's face. No, she wasn't kidding at all.

Sheila turned to the a.s.sistant standing nearby, her camera still focused on the now drifting U.S. eight-boat, its rowers collapsed over one another in exhaustion, chests heaving as they sucked in much-needed oxygen. "Get down to the put-in, make sure n.o.body touches the end of that scull. Keep your camera on it from the second it comes out of the water until I can get there with the officials."

"Got it," said Karen, nodding sharply. She turned and sprinted toward the put-in, where the boats would be coming out of the water.

"Ca.s.s, get down there too and let Amy know what's going on. I want Laura to keep the team close. Again, don't let anyone near the end of that boat!" Ca.s.s echoed Karen's nod and took off. She threaded her way through the throng as the announcement came, blaring the results for the crowd.

"The results, ladies and gentlemen, of the semifinal heat. Switzerland, first. China, second, the United States, third, Canada, fourth and Great Britain, fifth. These results mean that Switzerland and China are guaranteed slots in the final in three days time. The remaining three crews will compete in the repechage, the second-chance race, tomorrow. The winner of that race will move on to the final 'A' round."

The announcer's voice was drowned out by the shouts of the crowd, some happy, some angry. Ca.s.s could see the disappointment on the faces of the women in the U.S. eight as she got to the dock. Some were shaking their heads and Ellie was comforting Jan who'd burst into tears at the news. She nodded to Karen, the a.s.sistant coach with the camera. "I'll let them know." But before she could say anything to her teammates, Amy's angry voice carried over the water.

"Karen! Call Coach down here. We've got-"

Ca.s.s waved her hand and called back. "We know. Coach is on it. Keep everyone clear of the rudder as you come in." She waited for Amy's nod before looking over at Laura's face. Set and angry, even from this distance Ca.s.s could see her bright green eyes blazing with frustration and barely suppressed fury. She caught Laura's gaze and offered her a small, encouraging smile, hoping to convey somehow that she understood. That she knew what it was like to be standing on the edge and then to have the world yanked out from under your feet.

Oh yeah, Ca.s.s knew it well.

This time, however, she didn't have to just take it. This time there was something to fight. As the boat glided to a controlled stop at the edge of the dock, Ca.s.s reached up to help the first rower out. One by one the women stepped out, careful to keep the end of the scull clear of the dock. Ca.s.s glanced once up at Karen, happy to see her still focusing on the stern of the boat. She turned back and reached a hand in to help Laura out.

"I can do it," Laura muttered, her teeth clenched in anger.

Ca.s.s blew out a frustrated breath. "Laura, let me help." She held her hand out again, glancing once at Amy and then locking her gaze on Laura's face. She said nothing else, just kept her hand out there, hoping Laura would reach out. Would take it. Would accept what she was offering.

Laura's green-eyed gaze was cold and sharp as she flicked her eyes from Ca.s.s's face to her hand, then back again. Slowly her eyes warmed, her jaw loosened. She took a long, steadying breath, then reached out to grasp Ca.s.s's hand in hers. As Ca.s.s pulled her out of the boat, Laura gave the fingers tangled with hers a quick squeeze. "Thanks," she whispered as she steadied herself on the dock.

Ca.s.s squeezed back once before releasing Laura's hand. "Any time," she answered with a gentle smile.

Another step forward.

Chapter Twenty-Four.

The soft moan and rustle of cotton woke Ca.s.s. It took her a moment to place the noise-she'd been deeply asleep. Most nights, she dropped into an exhausted slumber the minute her head hit the pillow, and last night had been the exception. The qualifying heat for Laura's event had been the most exciting racing Ca.s.s had ever seen and, despite the exhaustion of her own workouts, she'd had a hard time shutting her brain down after the thrilling finish of the trial. Not to mention the chaos that followed when the officials found not one problem with the U.S. eight, but two. Severed cables. Neatly cut almost all the way through. Damaged enough that with the slightest pressure they would give way, just as they had Whoever had done it had known just what they were doing. They had also been so intent on damaging the U.S. women's chances that they'd gone too far. The officials might have chalked one snapped cable up to chance, but two was d.a.m.ning. Someone had tampered with the U.S. boat. Sabotage.

Coach had been livid and, after a heated discussion with the officials on the docks and a meeting later between the teams involved in the heat, had demanded that the U.S. eight be advanced to the final without having to race the repechage. The officials had waffled, and in the end had ignored the demands of not only Coach Adler, but the other coaches. It was unprecedented, but the Chinese were determined to preserve the honor of the event, and not to lose face on the international racing scene. The eight would race the repechage, the "second chance" race for a shot at a place in the final "A" group, the medal round.

Exhausted body and overstimulated brain did not a good combination make. Laura's crew had done extremely well despite the sabotage of their boat, coming in a very close third. Their strong finish left no doubt as to what the results would have been had their boat not been tampered with. Despite their strong performance, the fact that they had to race the repechage had brought them down and the squad was subdued as they cleaned up and returned to the dorms. n.o.body wanted to advance this way.

Ca.s.s yawned and wondered who was on duty near the boats tonight. Coach had worked out a schedule of rotating "watch" teams in light of today's events, pulling from the a.s.sistants and some of the parents. For a moment, Ca.s.s allowed herself to picture Big John Sullivan coming face-to-face with their would-be saboteur, then she shook her head. She really didn't want to think of what he might do.

The clock at the end of the room chimed, and Ca.s.s found herself blinking sleepily into the darkness, trying to pinpoint what had awakened her. The room was dark, the faint light that sneaked through the blinds casting soft shadows around the room. Around her, the mumbles and sleeping noises of her twenty-two roommates blended into the quiet of the night. You're imagining things, Ca.s.s. Just go back to...

This time the moan was accompanied by a faint whimper and Ca.s.s quickly turned to see Laura, her face kissed by the dim light, moving restlessly on her mattress. Ca.s.s leaned closer, surprised to see a faint sheen of sweat covering Laura's face. Laura tossed her head from side to side, her face frozen into a grimace.

Oh c.r.a.p. Is she sick? Nightmare? I don't want to wake her, but she's getting louder.

Slowly, Ca.s.s reached out, gently resting her hand on Laura's arm, hoping to calm her friend. She was as startled as Laura when Laura slapped her hand away and sat up with a start.

"No! I"

"Shh, Laura, shh." Ca.s.s kept her voice low, soothing, despite the pounding of her heart. What the h.e.l.l was that?

"I...Ca.s.s?" Laura glanced around, then lowered her voice. "What's going on?"

"You were...are you okay? Are you sick or something?"

Laura slowly settled back onto her mattress, lying on her side and facing Ca.s.s. She wiped her hand across her forehead, frowning at the dampness that came away. She took her sheet and wiped her face and neck before reaching for her bottle of water. Downing most of it in a few swallows, she closed her eyes.

Ca.s.s rolled onto her back, unconsciously rubbing the hand that Laura had slapped. Her heart rate was getting back to normal, and she let out a long, slow breath. Whatever was going on, she didn't think Laura was sick. She turned back onto her side and faced her friend. With their mattresses side-by-side, their faces were only inches apart.

"Laura?" Ca.s.s whispered, not wanting to wake anyone else.

"Yeah."

"You okay?"

"Um yeah, I guess so. Thanks for waking me. I, um, I get them sometimes. The nightmares."

"Want to talk about it?"

Laura waited a long moment before she opened her eyes and quirked a small, tired smile at Ca.s.s. "Does this count as your question?"

Ca.s.s shifted and propped one arm under the side of her head, then dropped the other to rest on the edge of her mattress, her fingers idly playing with the part of Laura's sheet that overlapped her own. She studied what she could see of Laura's face in the dark, able to make out only vague outlines. Despite being on two mattresses in a crowded room, this felt almost...intimate. Everyone around her was sleeping-even most of the village outside their dorm was asleep. She was close enough that she could smell Laura's shampoo, sort of salty-sweet in the pervasive moist air that hung in the room. Laura's breath mingled with her own as she settled more comfortably. Ca.s.s waited, giving Laura time to recover. Finally she answered Laura's question, "Yeah, it counts."

Laura sighed and rolled onto her back, laying one arm over her eyes. She lifted her other hand up, almost beseechingly, then let it fall against the mattress. Her fingers curled into a fist.

Ca.s.s said nothing. After a minute she bit her lip and reached out to close her hand over Laura's fist. She gave the tense fingers a brief squeeze and waited.

Slowly, Laura relaxed her hand and turned her palm up, tangling her fingers with Ca.s.s's. She spoke in a low voice, careful not to break the spell, the silence of the night.

"It always starts the same. I'm at home. Studying, actually. I am prepping for my boards. My phone rings." Laura lifted the arm across her eyes slightly and turned her head toward Ca.s.s. "I was in the last year of my grad program in psych. Sports psych, to be precise. Anyway, my clinicals were done and my boards were scheduled for the next day. My phone rings and-"

Ca.s.s squeezed the tense fingers wrapped in her own. The pain in Laura's voice was achingly hard to hear.

Laura cleared her throat softly and then stumbled on. "When I got there, the cops were already there. I had to fight and push my way in. I came around the corner...to the bedroom. The bathroom...oh G.o.d. Sh.e.l.ly, my girlfriend, was there, holding Bren. Bren was..." Laura choked back a sob. "Bren, beautiful, fun Bren. She had...cut...herself. Slit...h-h-her-"

"Shh, it's okay, Laura, it's okay. You're not there. You're here. Shh. It's all right." G.o.d! No it's not all right! Holy s.h.i.t! Poor Laura. Poor Bren. "Laura? Who was Bren?"

"Brenda, actually. She is-was-Sh.e.l.ly's sister."

"Oh, G.o.d. I'm sorry."

The hand in Ca.s.s's was trembling, and Laura wiped tears from her face with her other arm. She turned her face to Ca.s.s, a pleading expression on her face.

"I tried. G.o.d, I tried. I told them. Told her I wasn't qualified to help Brenda. Told her that she needed help, real help. That I couldn't do it." Laura sobbed softly, her eyes begging Ca.s.s to understand. "Honest to G.o.d, Sh.e.l.ly, I tried," she pleaded.

Ca.s.s gathered Laura into her arms, knowing that at that moment, Laura wasn't seeing her, but someone else...Sh.e.l.ly. "Shh, Laura. Shh. It's okay. It's not your fault, it's okay." Over and over she murmured rea.s.surances, rocking Laura gently, feeling her tears soak into her shirt. Slowly Laura's tears stopped and Ca.s.s reluctantly let her go. Laura's broken whisper was harsh in the darkness.

"Sh.e.l.ly blamed me. She, I don't know. She swore I never told Bren to see a real counselor. She insisted to the police, to everyone, that I'd demanded to see Bren, that I'd forced her to talk to me." Laura closed her eyes and covered them again with her arm. She reached blindly for Ca.s.s's hand again. "I swear to G.o.d I didn't. I was c.o.c.ky, but I also knew what I couldn't do. Bren had issues. Issues that Sh.e.l.ly wouldn't face. Still won't face. They both have...had...them."

"When did...when did this happen? How long ago?" How long have you been carrying this?

"It was a year on July second."

The day after I got here. No wonder she was...Christ. What an anniversary. Ca.s.s said nothing. She lay there, her hand in Laura's, trying to offer what comfort she could. "You still feel guilty." Laura turned to face Ca.s.s, staring intently at their joined hands. Her thumb ran over Ca.s.s's knuckles, back and forth, in a seemingly unconscious gesture of comfort. For whom, Ca.s.s wasn't sure.

"Yeah."

"You know, though, there's nothing you could have done, right?"

"Yeah."

Ca.s.s tugged on Laura's hand and waited until Laura looked at her. In the darkness, she could only see the faint shimmer of Laura's eyes and the soft curve of her cheekbone. She could feel Laura's eyes on her own.

"I mean it, Laura. It. Was. Not. Your. Fault." She emphasized each word with a gentle shake of their joined hands.

They lay there, silently, staring at one another in the darkness. Ca.s.s felt more than saw Laura's nod and was content with that. For now. She shifted and stuffed her pillow under her head, keeping her other hand where it was. She reveled in the warmth of Laura's fingers tangled with her own and hoped she had given her friend some comfort.

Slowly Laura's breathing evened out and she slept as Ca.s.s kept watch against more bad dreams.

Chapter Twenty-Five.

Laughter echoed across the water as Laura and Ca.s.s guided the team's practice single rowing sh.e.l.ls back to the dock. The two carried on the friendly bickering they'd been doing since they had signed the boats out earlier, trading mock jibes across the water; Ca.s.s teasing Laura about her inability to manage two oars at a time while Laura returned fire with some well-placed pokes of her own. The final race had been for a prize and Ca.s.s began mentally listing the options for dinner, since Laura now owed Ca.s.s after that last race.

Ca.s.s easily lifted the sh.e.l.ls out of the water while Laura dried the oars. Two other squad members were signed up to use the boats, so they didn't have to bring them inside. As Ca.s.s rose, Laura slung a companionable hand over her shoulder and spun her around. Ca.s.s glanced up at Laura's laughing face and grinned back, feeling considerably lighter than she had in days.

The gate at the top of the dock clanged as someone entered and she looked up automatically. Squinting against the bright sunlight, Ca.s.s studied the approaching woman and was surprised when she felt Laura suddenly stiffen beside her. Laura slowly dropped her arm from Ca.s.s's shoulder and took a deliberate step forward, putting s.p.a.ce between them and placing Ca.s.s slightly behind her.

Tan and golden and backlit by the afternoon sun, the woman was stepping gingerly from the sh.o.r.e to the floating pier, carefully stepping around coiled line and the detritus of scattered rigging and gear. Ca.s.s watched as she stopped and spoke with the guard at the gate, flashed her ID badge, then patted him on the shoulder condescendingly as she pa.s.sed. The newcomer's eyes locked with Laura's as she approached, then slid downward to study Ca.s.s, leaving her feeling slightly...soiled. The smug smile the newcomer had been wearing disappeared and her eyes narrowed slightly.

Laura must have seen the change in expression because she quickly stepped forward, her voice sharper and more bitter than Ca.s.s had ever heard it. "What are you doing here, Sh.e.l.ly?"

"I'm here officially. The network wanted some stringers on the stories. Angie knew I competed in college, so..." Sh.e.l.ly shrugged. "Here I am."

Running a hand through her hair, Laura stood as if frozen.

From behind her, Ca.s.s studied the woman, trying to figure out what was going on. The lightness of the early afternoon was gone, replaced with a tension she could feel radiating off Laura and hostility from the woman before them. Tall, taller than Laura even, her sun-kissed skin and straight blond hair, her crisp white cotton shirt with the logo of her television network embroidered above the left breast pocket, her perfectly creased white shorts, and her long, softly muscled legs completed the picture of sport-chic that some women could carry off with panache. Ca.s.s shifted the oars in her hands, suddenly acutely aware of her damp workout unitard, wind-tangled hair and bare feet.