Then he gives a short nod.
“Helicopter’s inbound. Five minutes out.”
That’s all I need to hear.
I turn and head straight for the locker room.
The gear goes on fast, muscle memory taking over as I pull the thermal layer over my skin before stepping into the dry suit. The material seals tight around my wrists and neck while I clip my harness into place, attaching the strobe light, knife, and tether line the same way I’ve done a hundred times before.
Schwartz appears in the doorway while I’m tightening the last strap.
“Lost visual about ten minutes ago,” he says.
Ten minutes.
The number settles heavily in my chest.
“What’s the water temperature?”
“Fifty-one.”
I let out a slow breath.
Cold water at that temperature doesn’t give a man much time. Swim failure can start in three minutes once the shock hits,and hypothermia follows not long after if you’re not properly insulated.
I know Holloway didn’t go in wearing a wetsuit. He’d be in boat gear — waterproof layers, heavy deck boots — clothing meant for working on the water, not going into it.
He’s a tough swimmer, though.
Hell, that’s how our stupid rivalry started in the first place. When he trained with the marine response unit, he posted better swim times than I did and nearly wrecked my pride in the process.
But even the toughest man can only survive so long in these waters, no matter how strong a swimmer he is.
Schwartz glances at his watch.
“Helicopter’s three minutes out.”
“Grand.”
I pull on my gloves and head toward the bay doors, pushing them open as I step outside.
The first person I see is Chief Prince.
He’s standing just off to the side of the entrance, his big black dog sitting alert beside him like he knows something serious is happening. Nathan’s eyes are fixed out toward the harbor, his shoulders tight.
For a second, I think about what that must feel like. A man who spent years jumping into the water when things went wrong is now stuck on shore while someone else does the work. Retirement probably feels grand when you’ve had a run like his, but a moment like this would make a man wish he was still the one in the water.
He turns when the door shuts behind me.
“I thought you were off today,” he says.
“I was,” I answer, walking toward him. “Came in as soon as I heard.”
For a moment, neither of us says anything. I can see the worry in his eyes, even though he’s doing his best to keep it locked down.
Nathan steps closer and places a firm hand on my shoulder.
“Leave the bullshit aside,” he says quietly. “Stay focused… and bring him back.”
