Page 88 of Secrets Beneath the Waves

Her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

The ride to the dive site was quiet, filled with occasional comments about the weather and the beauty of the sea. Ellie kept her gaze fixed on the crystal-blue water, rehearsing the conversation she knew she had to have with him.

“Where are we headed?” Matthew asked as they passed other dive boats clustered around the more popular sites and ventured farther into the deeper sea.

“It’s a lesser-known wreck,” she said. “Not many people come out here. I thought it’d be nice to explore something off the beaten path.”

Matthew nodded but frowned slightly.

Ellie forced a small smile. “Sometimes, it’s what’sundiscoveredthat’s more interesting. You know, live dangerously.”

Matthew studied her for a moment. “What’s going on Ellie? You have a gun on your hip. Now we’re going to a dangerous dive spot. Are you sure it’s safe?”

“As safe as any dive.”

He could obviously tell that something was different in her demeanor. Enough to make the air between them feel heavier.

Ellie turned her attention back to the open sea, keeping one wary eye on him. They were almost there. And soon, she’d get the answers she was looking for.

She brought the boat to a stop near a small island in shallower water. The ocean stretched out before them, ashimmering expanse of blue. The Cayman Trench was to the east of them and not that far away.

She busied herself raising the dive flag while Matthew dropped the anchor. He began unpacking his gear, but she didn’t join him. Instead, she took a deep breath and turned to face him.

“Matthew,” she began, her voice steady but firm. “We need to talk before we go in the water.”

He paused, his hands frozen mid-motion as he stopped adjusting his regulator. “I knew something was up. What’s on your mind?”

Ellie crossed her arms, trying to project confidence despite the pounding of her heart. She had considered wielding a gun for the questioning but decided against it. Matthew wasn’t much of a threat. He obviously didn’t have a weapon on him. He was shirtless, and the upper half of his tight-fitting dive suit hung down over the lower half.

While he might have some hand-to-hand combat training, it paled in comparison to the ten thousand-plus hours she had under her belt.

Still, she watched him warily. More for truthfulness than anything else. He was probably CIA-trained to avoid detection, so she’d have to rely on her instincts to spot any subtle irregularities.

“You remember the day I killed the Middle Eastern man?” she asked.

He chuckled. “I think I remember that,” he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“I texted you to come and help me.”

“Right.” He propped his foot on the seat and placed his left elbow on it. Looked at her with the curiosity of a cat.

“You came right away.”

“Ellie, what do you want to ask me?”

“You said that you were at your apartment, working.”

“That’s right.”

His eyes shifted. A sign of nervousness.

“No, you weren’t.”

“Why would you say that?”

“The timeline. It doesn’t add up.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and a flicker of something passed across his face. Confusion matched with someone preparing to deceive was how she interpreted it.