A Deep Thing Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Acknowledgments

  A Deep Thing

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Notes from the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Epilogue

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  She held the unusual memory stick

  in her hand before plugging it into the side of her computer. Black rubber surrounded the stick like the rubber on an underwater camera. Here goes. She watched it upload. Let’s see what this is all about.

  Ten documents labeled by date flashed on her computer screen. Six documents dated years before Tim and Kendall met; the other four ranged from the beginning of their relationship to one dated three days before Tim died.

  Inhaling deeply, she touched her mouse, pulling down to the right and clicking without hesitation on the last icon, a video file. She squeezed her eyes to hold back tears as Tim’s face filled the screen. The background was the upstairs office over the garage. She hit play.

  ~*~

  Praise for this book…

  “A DEEP THING by A.K. Smith is a high concept thriller—think The Da Vinci Code of the deep—that grabs you from the beginning and doesn’t let go. A roller coaster ride of romance, suspense, mystery and intrigue, this page-turner surprises at every turn and offers a stunning ending you’ll never suspect.

  ~Marilyn Baron, author of Stumble Stones: A Novel

  Acknowledgments

  This book would not have been possible without a hike around Lookout Mountain in Phoenix with my husband, Darrell Smith. He listened to the entire outline of A Deep Thing and said, “I see it as a movie.” He is my biggest fan, and his support means more than words. Special thanks to my family—my mother, Grace, who believes I can do anything. My sister Lisa Rafferty who encouraged me to write this novel, (she never heard of cenotes and found them fascinating), sorry it’s not the horror novel you envisioned. My sisters Coleen Martin for advice and Iris Kaltenbaugh for encouragement. My brothers Peter and Mark Kaltenbaugh, who believed in me, as did my father.

  Thanks to Judy Brinkhurst, my very first reader, and to all my beta readers for their advice and excitement: Cheri and Darrin Jones, Carla Engel, Marcia Brockmeyer, Julene Pinto-Dyczewski, Dan Dyczewski, Michelle Kaltenbaugh, Lynne Trailov, Susan Cardillo, Dennis and Weezie Thomas, and Corb Harding. Thanks to Elisabeth Hallett for her proofing skills. Three of my life mentors passed away while I was writing this book; thanks to them for everything: Bud Crawley, Betty Moore, and Mitchell Alexander.

  Thanks to Paolo of Diving Cenotes Tulum, Ed and Diego for the magical cenote dive. If you’ve never witnessed the unworldly beauty of a cenote, go to the Yucatán.

  Special thanks to The Wild Rose Press and Ally Robertson for believing in me and my story. Thanks to the Las Vegas Writers Conference for allowing such introductions to happen. I’m so thankful to have met Ally.

  A Deep Thing

  by

  A. K. Smith

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  A Deep Thing

  COPYRIGHT © 2016 by A. K. Smith

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Mainstream Thriller Edition, 2016

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1048-0

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1049-7

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For my brothers Pete and Mark

  and all my friends and family who fight the battle.

  May we find the magic cure.

  Notes from the Author

  To all new writers, don’t give up and don’t forget the small presses. The Wild Rose Press, Inc. has been voted the best small press for the last seven years by Predators and Editors and is a wonderful publishing house to work with.

  ~*~

  To my readers, join me in an experiment! A Deep Thing is my debut fiction novel. Publishing experts and literary agents state the secret to a break-out novel is simply one thing: word of mouth. If you enjoy this book, please tell five people and ask them to tell five people. Take the trip, join the journey.

  ~*~

  Cenotes are magical underground caves that exist in the Yucatán Peninsula…Deep holes under the earth filled with crystal clear fresh water containing minerals found nowhere else in the world. A beautiful sinkhole. The Maya discovered them centuries ago, calling them “dzonot,” translated by the Spaniards to the word “cenote” meaning in Spanish “a deep thing.”

  Chapter 1

  Were they still following him? Tim Jackson scanned the canopy of the lush jungle as the damp and musty scent of the wild eased his anxiety. The birds chirped in rhythm with the incessant buzzing melody of the insects creating an organic symphony. He turned his head slightly to the left. No, they weren’t out there yet, but eventually they would be. An acquisition of memories played in his mind as he rubbed a hand over the tightness in his chest.

  “Tim, the boat is fixed, you ready?” Adam emerged in the light and held Tim’s gaze. “Everything fine?”

  Tim stood, brushing a hand through his hair. “Yes, everything is fine. Is Colton ready to go?”

  “Everyone’s ready.”

  The chop hit hard, bouncing the thirty-four-foot Boston Whaler on the turquoise water for the first forty-five minutes. As the boat entered the reef, it welcomed twenty minutes of a smooth ri
de and a race with a pod of playful dolphins. Their slick, pointy faces broke through the water with a smile, only to head downward in a rhythmic motion of up and down, daring the boat to follow. Colton and Adam, Tim’s dive buddies on many excursions, cheered the flippers on from the front of the bow. Sheer joy highlighted their facial features. Back in the open water, the chop returned, and the men settled in silence, taking in the vastness of the azure sea. Soon they reached Lighthouse Atoll, home of the Great Blue Hole in Belize.

  Seen from above, the Great Blue Hole resembled a pupil, a large deep indigo circle surrounded by a ring of turquoise looking up as if beckoning to come closer. By boat, the almost perfectly circular reef with a diameter of 980 ft. and a depth of over 480 ft. painted a different picture. The sideways viewpoint created a kaleidoscope of luminous variations of blue and green, but it was not the magical glow of water that intensified the moment, it was the overwhelming feeling it created—the energy in the air charged, as if the intensity of the color was a mysterious vortex.

  “It never gets old—I’m a pixel on the screen.” Adam said. “Just look at it.” Hundreds of shades of aquamarine color exploded in the vastness as far as you could see. Incredible beauty surrounded them. They were anchored now inside the reef in calm waters. Tim stopped writing in his logbook, captivated as always by this wonder of nature.

  “You know, 10,000 years ago it was above ground, a limestone cavern, a cave at the center of a tunnel. The ceiling collapsed, and now it is an undersea mountain.” Tim spoke softly clutching the dive book. He pulled in then slowly released a deep breath, staring at the sea. “It is amazing, in the scheme of it all. We are just a ripple in the water.” He placed the dive book carefully in his bag and picked up his scuba equipment.

  Adam and Colton joined him adjusting their gear. Their excitement was contagious. “You ready? Let’s do this!”

  The dive in the Blue Hole was the first of three dives for the day, this one ten minutes long at 140 feet.

  Three divers plopped into the water. Only two would surface.

  Chapter 2

  Kendall Riggs unscrewed the cap off the prescription bottle, hand shaking and heart beating erratically. A voice hidden somewhere deep down was fighting to surface in her fuzzy mind. She blocked it out instantly with the intense biting of her lower lip and exhaled a deep breath.

  Why stop? Who really cares? Just as she was placing the pill on the back of her tongue and reaching for her water to wash it down, the door to her College Activities office opened and in stepped her boss, the President of Western Maryland College, Frank Alexander.

  “Is everything okay, Kendall?”

  She swallowed the pill. Frank looked straight at her. “We missed you in the meeting today.”

  The meeting. Kendall got that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She ran her fingers through her long, light brown hair and stood up from her desk. She tucked her wrinkled black blouse into a black pencil skirt, looser than it should be. Her eyes focused on Frank with the best smile she could muster. “I’m sorry, Frank, I completely lost track of time.”

  Was she slurring her words? Her tongue felt a little thick and she thought she might be talking too quickly. She saw the look in his eyes. He was thinking the same thing everyone else was thinking—get over your husband’s death already, it’s been a year and a half, you need to pick up your life and move on.

  Kendall hated that look from friends and colleagues more than the sympathetic look from strangers when they heard her husband had been killed in a horrific diving accident. Everyone seemed to know what happened. The story ran on the Today show and Good Morning America with a follow-up story, and plenty of pictures of her Reality star stepson, Ryder, who was left behind after the tragic death.

  Frank took his glasses off and cleaned the lens of each side with his tie, an annoying habit. “Okay, get the minutes from Mitchell to see what you missed and the updates on your committee report.” He stopped, paused, as he put the rimless glasses back on the perch of his nose, peering over them once again to stare at her. “Kendall, I know it’s hard to move on, but some day you’ll realize everything happens…”

  With a tightening inside her chest, she forced a fake smile. “I’ll get with Mitchell right away and catch up. I’m sorry I missed it, it won’t happen again.”

  She could bring the horror up clearly in her mind. It only took an instant. A flash, a deep guttural inside pain, quick to surface.

  The pain was sharp each time she replayed the phone call that changed her life. It was like a scratched DVD replaying the same scene and she was watching herself.

  “Hey handsome, how was the dive?” she purred into the phone.

  After a series of clicks, rustling, and static, a deep calm voice spoke. “Kendall, this is Adam Matthews.”

  “Adam, what’s wrong? Where’s Tim?” When Adam didn’t respond, her voice rose. “Where is he?”

  “Kendall, I’m so sorry, there’s been an accident….”

  She swallowed again, her cluttered desk coming into focus, her hand holding the file folder trembling. The small pill stuck in the back of her throat. It didn’t matter. The slight uncomfortable feeling of an object lodged sideways in her esophagus was nothing in relation to the glass shard stuck in her chest every hour of the day for the last sixteen months. How could he die?

  ****

  Her eyes lift up to the round circle on the wall with numbers. Hours have passed and she realizes she needs to go home and check on Harvey. Harvey is the one companion who never let her down.

  Putting the key in the lock reminds her of what isn’t inside; with a twist of her hand, she turns the knob. Harvey springs into the air, clearing more than a foot off the ground, paws outstretched, almost like he’s asking for a dance, or leaping to a rim shot off a basket. The springy dance is repeated in a melodic beat.

  Almost three years old, this fifty-pound wheaten terrier-poodle mix is the only being on the planet to stir up a microscopic bit of the once-known emotion of joy. Perhaps it’s another being touching her skin and licking her face. For a split second, her lips turn slightly upward.

  It doesn’t last long. Harvey runs to the pantry door and then settles down to feast on his food, carefully eating in sections. After a spin out the doggy door, she dreads what happens next. He goes immediately to the small white couch in front of the picture window by the door. With his head resting on his paws on the back of the couch, he sits upright staring out the window, turning his head every few minutes, looking for a response. He is waiting to hear the rumble of the engine of a Ford F150 truck pulling into the driveway. He knows the sound, but it never comes. This nightly vigil tightens the tourniquet around her heart as she coaxes him to bed his movements slower and his head nearly touching the ground.

  She hated the lines everyone spouted at her: It will get easier over time. Time heals all things. Everything happens for a reason.

  Kendall really liked that last one. She used to tell people that all the time. In the past, she sincerely believed it.

  What was wrong with her…how dare she say that to people in pain. Who was she before? Some glass half-full, eternal optimist full of love and life, stupid woman, naïve to the pain or reality of life?

  She had the picture-perfect life with Tim, little or no heartache, minimal stress, much warmth for others, and a desire to make the world a better place. She actually thought she was qualified to spout philosophical advice she had no right to give to those in pain. Who was she to tell people anything about the pain of suffering…how they should feel inside or will feel in the days ahead? She had never experienced pain like this, hot searing pain like a knife stuck in your stomach.

  That person was gone forever; she didn’t even know that foolish individual she used to be. But if she were here right now, that gullible optimist, she would scream at the top of her voice, directly in her face, “Okay, Miss Sunshine, you want to know the reason things happen? Here’s the reason…. I’m going to put twenty p
ills in my mouth at one time.” Because the love of my life is gone.

  Gone forever. She never got to whisper goodbye, kiss his sweet soft lips one last time or wrap her arms around his broad chest and tell him how much she loved him. She will never get to feel the warmth of his body next to hers in their bed, their legs wrapped together, and the soft sound of him breathing by her ear. His sweet smell, musky, masculine, and his.

  The reason? How many do you want?

  “There’s your ‘everything happens for a reason.’” Kendall tilted her head back and swallowed a cluster of tiny white pills in one gulp, in one blind moment of pain.

  Chapter 3

  Ryder picked up the Turkish oil lamp, staring at the tarnished brass and threw it across the room. An angry thud and a gaping hole in the drywall verified his rage. He remembered the day his father, returning from a business trip, unwrapped the little lamp and carefully placed the shiny object in his hands. To a ten-year-old, it smelled old and magical, just like an Aladdin lamp.

  “Is it magic?” He had asked, captivated.

  “Maybe, if you live a good and purposeful life, maybe someday your wishes will come true.”

  He had watched Aladdin so many times; he knew if you rubbed a magic lamp, a genie might appear and grant three wishes.

  For most of his life, his three wishes never changed. Just like Tony Stark in Ironman, he wanted a huge mansion on the ocean, and he wanted to be filthy rich and famous.

  Well, he was on his way to being famous—sort of—with his new job on a reality TV show. The show focused on Dr. Ian Grant’s patients, women and men having plastic surgery. Ryder just happened to be one of the real characters, a receptionist, cast in the mostly scripted TV show, titled after the prominent, upscale, steamy desert it was filmed in, Paradise Valley.

  The real story was in the office dynamics, the clients’ spectacle and performance before and after surgery and the clients—male and female—who became obsessed with their dreamy surgeon. A reality soap opera, filled with drama, and clients flirting with everyone, including him.

  He wanted fame; it charged him up, gave him power. However, in addition to money and fame, he wanted two more things. His father to be alive, and to shake off this revolting anxiety that wrapped its sickening stranglehold around his heart. It pissed him off as he wiped the sweat off the back of his neck. Some call it stage fright or performance anxiety. He never even knew what anxiety meant until he experienced it in the second season of shooting Paradise Valley.