LITMIR.BIZ

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control belt had been stowed, along with Laurie’s weight belt, Will looked back at Kat. “May I?”

      “Go right ahead.” Laurie’s equipment had not been disassembled; the “octopus” with the regulator, secondary system and computer console was still connected to the air tank.

      Will examined the computer at the end of one of the hoses. He grimaced and beckoned to Kat. She came over and stood next to him, staring down at the dials. Brady Laurie had died with five minutes of air still available.

      “There was air in his tank,” Will explained to Riley. “After it was checked out for leaks.”

      “Well, so there is,” Riley said. “Then he must have panicked and spit the thing out.”

      “Experienced divers don’t panic when they have a regulator and air. He had a secondary system, too,” Kat said thoughtfully. “Properly attached to his BCV.” Riley was looking at her blankly. “This,” she said, indicating the buoyancy control vest. “He could easily have reached for it if he’d had difficulty with his main regulator,” she said, pointing to the mouthpiece. “It allows for the flow of air.”

      Riley shook his head. “We really think it was just a tragic accident.”

      Kat stepped in front of Will. “I’m sorry, Sergeant Riley. We don’t.”

      “You’re taking over the investigation?” he asked. To Kat’s astonishment, he sounded hopeful.

      He must have read her mind. “Hey, big city here, folks. I have my hands full, so…the chief already sent down orders to set you up in one of the conference rooms.”

      “Good,” Will said. “Thank you.” He pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. “Can you see that we have access to this equipment, and a technical officer if need be?”

      “Whatever you want that we’ve got,” Riley assured them.

      “Can you also connect us with the officer in charge of the marine patrol unit?”

      Riley was happy to do so. He was happy, perhaps, to do anything that would make them someone else’s responsibility.

      Outside the station, Kat took out her phone. “I’ve got to tell Logan I can’t say for sure that Laurie died by accident,” she explained to Will. “Do you need to call in, as well? Now might be a good time.”

      He shrugged. “I don’t have anything to report yet. Jackson Crow knew I’d be staying on for a while.”

      “Oh?”

      “Hey, I happen to love Egyptian history,” he told her.

      “You seem delighted that there might have been a murder,” she said sarcastically.

      “Death never delights me.” His voice had grown serious. “You came into this expecting an accidental drowning—which is also what the police believed. But whenever there’s big money involved and a massive black market, I expect trouble. We need to put a stop to it or it’s going to continue.” He studied her for a moment. “Hey, this is what we do,” he said. “You shouldn’t be in this if you can’t hack it.”

      “I can hack it just fine,” she snapped. “You forget I’m a doctor—a certified medical examiner and forensic pathologist. I’ve studied all manner of deaths.”

      “No, I didn’t forget,” he said. “I couldn’t possibly—you constantly remind me.”

      He walked away so she could make her call.

      Kat looked after him, frustrated, her temper soaring again. Then she flushed and turned away. Was she afraid she didn’t have control of the situation? Mental note: quit reminding people that I’m an M.E.

      Wincing, she made her call.

      She told Logan that yes, it appeared that they should investigate, although she had nothing solid as yet. He promised that more team members would be there within twenty-four hours. “I’m assuming that you’ve met Agent Chan?” Logan asked.

      “Oh, yes.”

      “And he’s capable and professional?”

      “All that,” Kat said drily.

      “And what else?”

      “He’s an ass,” Kat said. “He stomped all over the Chicago M.E. I try to speak first now to protect us from the wrath of local authorities.”

      Logan chuckled softly. “I know Chan. I met him at our special units base in Arlington. He’s, shall we say, irreverent, but apparently excellent at what he does. He’s familiar with film, video and computer alteration, so he’ll be great with the film crew. And he dives, which is a major asset on this case. Are you going to see the Jerry McGuen soon?”

      “If I know Chan, very soon,” Kat said, glancing over at her new colleague.

      “Keep me posted on any developments,” Logan told her. “I should be there by midafternoon tomorrow.” Then he rang off and Kat returned the phone to her purse, signaling that the call was finished.

      Chan approached her seconds later. “Ready?” he asked.

      She nodded.

      Their next stop was the harbor, where the police search and rescue boat that had brought in the body was docked.

      The harbor and the lake were beautiful that day. Summer was still with them but would begin to fade in the next few weeks. Today, though, the water glistened under a benign sun.

      They were able to see all four officers who’d been on the search and rescue boat. Officer Aldo Reynald had been in charge, and he seemed sincerely interested in their queries.

      “When we got there, the woman was crying her eyes out…Amanda. Yeah, Amanda Channel. She was kneeling over the dead man. She said she’d done CPR, but she didn’t think it helped. She said we had to save her friend. The other guy, Jon Hunt, was walking around the dock, rubbing his chin, scratching his head. I tried CPR as we got him to shore. No luck. We have a state-of-the-art truck to deal with emergencies like this. You get a lot of divers who think they know their stuff and don’t, or divers who are used to the tropics and get into trouble in the lake. And naturally we have boating accidents, so…we’re prepared. We used every possible method of resuscitation on the way to the hospital, but…then we got there and they called it.” He shook his head glumly. “I’m assuming we’re going to have to be vigilant as this whole thing proceeds because diving a wreck is inherently dangerous, and a newly discovered one even more so.”

      Reynald was lean and fit; he was obviously experienced, practical—and compassionate.

      “But you believe he was dead when you arrived?” Kat asked.

      He nodded grimly. “Dead as a cold mackerel, I’m afraid.”

      “How long?” Will asked next.

      “He couldn’t have been dead more than half an hour or so,” Reynald told them. “I’m not sure what I’m basing that on, other than that I’ve pulled more than a few bodies out of the lake. Like I said, he was declared DOA at the hospital.”

      “Were there other boats near the dive spot?” Will asked.

      “Boating on a good day on Lake Michigan? You bet.”

      “Close to the dive site?” Kat continued for Will.

      Reynald drew in a deep breath. “Yeah, near enough, I think. The other Preservation Center boat was there—as well as the one the dead man had been on. Oh, and the film crew has a snazzy research boat, too. There was a sailboat maybe two hundred feet away and others farther out….”

      One of his fellow officers chimed in. “There were two motorboats nearby. One was a Cigarette—nice speedboat. I noticed that because I always wanted one. The other…a little cabin cruiser. Looked like the people aboard were fishing.”

      “Fishing,”

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