The Reef

won.”
    Tate lifted the flowers to rub the fragrant blooms over her cheek. “He hasn’t. We know that, and it’s what matters.”
    “Right before I left, he called me by my father’s name.”
    “Matthew.” Concerned, she laid a hand over his on the gear shift. “I’m sorry.”
    “No. It’s all right. It seemed just somehow. Like a closure. Almost half my life, I’ve wanted to turn the clock back to that day, do something to change what happened. I couldn’t save my father, and I couldn’t be him. But today, for a few minutes, it was like standing in for him.”
    “Justice instead of revenge,” she murmured. “It’s easier to live with.”
    As he turned the car toward the sea, she let her head fall back against the cushion. “Matthew, I remembered something when I was talking to the police. Last night,when I was on deck with VanDyke, I had my hand on the amulet and I told him I hoped it gave him the life he’d earned.”
    “Twenty or thirty years locked away from everything he wants most. Good call, Red.”
    “But who called it?” She let out a long breath. “He doesn’t have the amulet, Matthew, but he certainly has Angelique’s Curse.”
     
    It felt good to be back at sea again, back at work. Warding off all suggestions that she take the remainder of the day to rest, Tate closeted herself with Hayden and her cataloguing.
    “You’ve done a top-notch job here, Tate.”
    “I had a good teacher. There’s still so much to do. I have miles of film to be developed. We already have the videos, of course, and my sketches.”
    Briskly, she ran a finger down one of her lists. “We desperately need storage space,” she continued. “More holding tanks and preserving solutions. And now that we’ve made the announcement, we can start bringing up the cannon. We couldn’t risk using inflatables and cranes before.”
    She blew out a breath and sat back. “We need the equipment for handling the rest, and of course, for preserving and reconstructing what we can of the Isabella. ”
    “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
    “I’ve got a great team.” She reached for coffee, smiled at the vase of cheery flowers beside her monitor. “Even better now that you and Lorraine are signing up.”
    “Neither one of us would miss it.”
    “I think we’re going to need a bigger boat, certainly until Matthew can build one.”
    But it wasn’t that which preyed on her mind while Hayden muttered over her notes. Tate braced her shoulders and screwed up her courage.
    “Tell me honestly, Hayden, when the reps and other scientists get here, am I prepared for them? Are my notes and papers organized and detailed enough? Without beingable to use outside resources, I’ve had to guess on so many of the artifacts that I—”
    “Are you looking for a grade?” he interrupted.
    The amusement in his eyes had her squirming. “No. Well, maybe. I’m nervous.”
    He took off his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose, then replaced them. “You spent last night fighting a madman, all morning talking to police, and giving a presentation to colleagues makes you nervous?”
    “I’ve had more time to think about the colleagues,” she said dryly. “I’m greedy, Hayden. I want to make a huge splash with this. It will be the foundation for the Beaumont-Lassiter Museum of Marine Archeology.”
    She picked up the necklace that lay on the table. She’d needed, for reasons she no longer felt required analysis, to keep it close.
    It was cool in her hands now. Beautiful, priceless and, she thought, quiet at last.
    “And I . . . well, I want Angelique’s Curse to have the home it deserves after four hundred years of waiting.”
    “Then I can honestly tell you in my professional opinion, you have a very strong foundation.”
    Very gently, she laid the necklace back in its padded box. “But do you think that—” She broke off, glancing toward the window at the sound of clanging and motorized hiccoughing. “What the hell is that?”
    “Whatever it is, it sounds bad.”
    They went on deck together where Matthew and Lorraine were already at the rail. Ray and Marla bolted out of the galley.
    “What an awful noise,” Marla began, then her eyes widened. “Oh my God, what is that thing?”
    “I think it’s supposed to be a boat,” Tate murmured. “But don’t take my word for it.”
    It was painted a virulent pink, which clashed interestingly with the heavy rust. The flying bridge shuddered each time the