Meet the Researchers

Chapter 1

The sun was bright and the air smelled like fresh rain.

Elise Maren stepped out of the beach house she was renting with her friends and strolled down the boardwalk that led over the dunes, heading for an early morning swim. A cool breeze ruffled her sundress and brushed across her bare legs, but she knew the chill would burn off quickly. The sun was already climbing above the horizon, promising another hot, sticky day.

She stepped barefoot off the last stair, her feet sinking into the cool, sea-licked sand. A single seashell pressed gently against her sole. The sharp, clean scent of salt filled her nose, and she smiled.

Abby should be back soon. Elise had been surprised when Abby announced her plan to take the Swell Jammer out overnight—what was basically a solo camping trip on the water. What could she possibly hope to research out on the open Pacific in the middle of the night, especially in a storm like that?

The storm.

Elise flipped her towel open on the sand and paused as an uneasy thought crept in. Where was Abby? Hadn’t she said she’d be back at sunrise?

Her hands had already begun drifting toward the hem of her dress out of habit, but she caught herself. She stopped, suddenly aware she’d been about to strip down on autopilot.

“Hey Elise, you forgot me!” Nadia called out, jogging down the boardwalk. Her mass of curly red hair bounced in a ponytail with every step. “What gives?”

“Oh, sorry,” Elise said, though she wasn’t entirely sorry. She had hoped for a quiet morning alone. “I guess I was just in a hurry. Hey, before I forget—have you heard from Abby?”

Nadia slowed to a walk. “Wait, what? You haven’t heard from her?”

“No, that’s why I’m asking.”

“I haven’t heard from her either.” Nadia stepped down the stairs carefully, her expression growing serious. “That storm last night was pretty bad. Do you think she’s okay?”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Elise replied, not quite believing her own words. “Abby’s a decent captain. She’s probably just exhausted and sleeping in after fighting the weather all night.”

Nadia stopped at the bottom of the stairs, rubbing her hands together nervously before pushing her glasses back up her nose. “I wonder if her radio is out.”

Elise already had her phone out, thumbs flying across the screen as she typed a message. “Let’s see if she answers.”

Nadia nodded slowly.

“We can’t assume the worst,” Elise continued, deliberately pulling her dress off and dropping it onto her towel. “We’ll give her a few minutes. If she doesn’t reply, we’ll figure something out.”

“I’ll text Maeve,” Nadia said, fishing her phone out from where she’d tucked it between her bra and breast. “She mentioned she was heading to the wharf to get help with counts and samples.”

Elise walked slowly toward the water’s edge, the stretch of beach nestled between high rock cliffs to the north and south. Their own private slice of heaven, looking out over an ocean that was finally beginning to wake up.

________________________________________

It smelled like a fish market.

Maeve could barely hide the grimace on her face as she walked back from the pier. There were moments—like this one—when she wondered how she had ever ended up in this line of work. She loved the dives, the chemical analysis, and the intellectual challenges of marine research… but the gross parts? She could have happily lived without them.

Her light dress fluttered in the sea breeze. Her shoulder-length black hair kept whipping across her face until she finally reached back, twisted it up, and clipped it securely in place.

“It’ll be a miracle if my dress doesn’t fly up,” she muttered, heading toward the small office building. The sign on the door read Barlow and Sons, though old man Barlow had been gone for years. Now it was just Chuck Barlow, doing his best to keep the family business afloat—sometimes literally.

She knocked. A deep voice called for her to come in. Maeve smoothed her dress one last time and stepped inside.

“Good morning, Dr. Callahan,” Chuck said from behind his desk. He was marking up a large printed map of the local waters. “What can I do for you?”

Maeve found her gaze lingering on his corded forearms and the thick chest hair peeking from the collar of his shirt. She quickly pushed the thought away before she could blush.

“It’s Maeve, please,” she said with a warm smile. “I brought the instructions for the information we need, like you asked.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that.” Chuck tucked a pen behind his ear and stepped toward her, smiling. “I already told the guys down at the docks that you’ll be asking questions. Didn’t want them getting weird about it.”

She doubted they would have been weirded out. She always felt like she was on display whenever she went near the docks. Maeve placed the printed sheet on his desk. Chuck picked it up and scanned it quickly.

“Easy enough,” he said, his brow furrowing. “Though it’s a little weird. Mind telling me why you’re looking for… lesions, odd proportions or missing anatomical features… and ‘organisms of unknown origin’? What does that even mean?”

“You’ve been working up and down this coast most of your life, right?”

Chuck nodded.

“So if you dredge up something you don’t recognize—something weird—just snap a picture. Or better yet, bring it back if you can.”

Chuck grinned. “You gonna come pick it up yourself?”

Maeve finally blushed, and Chuck’s smile widened.

“My number is on the instructions,” she added sheepishly.

“Yeah… it sure is,” he said, glancing back at the paper. “I’ll keep an eye out, Dr. Callahan.”

“Maeve.”

“Maeve,” he corrected with a charming smile beneath his mustache. “You let me know if you need anything else. And here…”

He handed her a simple business card: Barlow & Sons, with an address and phone number.

“If you need anything, just call.”

She smiled, thanked him politely, and shook his hand. His grip was warm and surprisingly gentle.

“I’ll see you around,” Chuck said as she reached the door. “I’m heading out soon to check on Casey. She took the boat north toward No Beard’s Cave this morning for some sonar readings.”

“Just tell her to be careful,” Maeve said from the half-closed door. “The runoff from the cannery is especially bad in that area. The water’s nasty—make sure no one goes in it.”

“Will do,” Chuck replied as the door clicked shut. He smiled to himself, saved Maeve’s number in his phone, grabbed his hat, and headed out.