Death Runs Adrift (The Gray Whale Inn Mysteries) by Karen MacInerney

they could talk, I thought, wondering what they’d seen over the centuries.
    The sense of foreboding deepened. “Well,” I said, trying to sound casual, “that’s about all there is to it. Not much to see, is there?”
    “It’s fascinating,” Beryl replied, still training her flashlight on the rocky floor.
    “Yes, but we should probably head out while the tide’s low. It gets tricky when it rises, and we don’t want to spend the night in here.” I shivered. “Trust me.”
    “Did you spend the night in here once?”
    “Not by choice. My boat was damaged, and I got stuck.” I didn’t tell them the circumstances; no need to make them think the island was a dangerous place to be. “But I’d rather not risk it again. Ready?”
    “Let’s go,” Agnes said, but Beryl seemed to want to linger.
    “I feel like there’s a secret here.” She reached out to touch the cold, damp stone. “These walls have seen so much. I wish there were some way to know what all has happened here.”
    Her thoughts echoed my wish that the walls could somehow talk, but the sound of the water slapping against the rocks seemed louder, suddenly, and I just wanted to leave.
    “Come on, Beryl. I think we’ve seen all there is to see.” Agnes headed back to the boat, and after a lingering moment, to my relief, Beryl followed.
    The tide was coming up more quickly than I expected; already we’d have to duck to make it through the cove’s entry. When everyone was situated in the boat, I warned them to watch their heads and cast off, gunning the engine to make sure we made it through the cove’s entrance without scraping the walls.
    Agnes squealed a little and tumbled back as the little boat shot forward. Eyes on the water in front of me, I piloted the Little Marian out into the sunshine.
    As I opened the throttle, there was a roar from somewhere over my right shoulder. And that’s when another boat plowed into the starboard side of the skiff, knocking Agnes into the cold, dark water.

eight
    “Agnes!”
    There was a hole gouged in the side, and water was pouring into the small craft. Agnes was flailing in the water a few yards away. Horrified, I reached for a life jacket and tossed it into the water toward her. The jacket flopped a few yards away from her.
    “OhmyGod!” Beryl stood staring at her friend, eyes huge, both hands over her open mouth, then down at the water that was quickly engulfing our feet. She turned to me. “What do we do?”
    “Agnes!” I called. She didn’t answer, though. The flailing had stopped. Panic washed over me. I grabbed the two remaining life jackets and threw one at Beryl, then started stripping off my windbreaker. “What are you doing?” Beryl asked, her voice high and panicky.
    “Going in after her,” I said, strapping on the life jacket and kicking off my shoes. “Put yours on; you’re going to need it soon.” By the time I snapped the last buckle of the jacket, Agnes was already sinking. I leaped after her, praying I’d get there in time.
    The cold water sucked the air right out of my lungs, and I came up gasping.
    “She’s over there!” Beryl called. I kicked my legs, which seemed abnormally heavy in their waterlogged jeans, propelling myself in the direction she had pointed. I couldn’t see her anymore. “Is she still there?” I yelled back to Beryl.
    “I see her jacket,” Beryl said. “Hurry, Natalie. She’s going down!”
    I splashed through the inky water, tasting the salt in my throat—I’d swallowed some water when I gasped—and hoping I was going in the right direction. “You’re almost there!” Beryl called, and a moment later, to my immense relief, my hand closed on the slippery fabric of Agnes’s jacket.
    “I’ve got her,” I said as I grabbed her arm and hauled her up. She was heavy—a dead weight, I thought with a sick feeling. Had the boat hit her and hurt her, or was it just the shock of the cold water?
    Her face was pale as it surfaced, and I struggled