SEAL Wolf In Too Deep by Terry Spear Page A

parkas—long coats with soft fleece inside and a windproof and waterproof outer fabric that would keep the snow and frigid wind from cooling them down too much on the trek from the car to and from the lake.
    This morning, it was a brisk seventeen degrees with snow showers on the way.
    Off in the distance, a couple of men were getting ready to ice fish on the frozen lake. No longer was the venture like the old days when Paul and Allan would catch fish in the winter, sitting atop a fish bucket, hoping the trout would swim by and take the bait. Now the guys who were setting up had power augers—often used to dig postholes in the earth—to drill a hole through the ice. And they had brightly colored yellow-and-red portable shelters, underwater cameras, and sonar fish finders.
    â€œDid you ever ice fish?” Debbie asked, making her pre-dive safety checks.
    â€œYeah, but not quite like that. Much more primitive.”
    She nodded. “Me too, in the old-fashioned way. Did we catch anything? Sure. Once I caught a trout. Another time, a yellow perch.”
    â€œWho did you fish with?” he asked. From what she’d told him, her dad hadn’t been there for her when she was growing up.
    â€œMy dive partner and mentor. I told you. He was like a father to me. Man, was it cold. I decided fishing in the summer was the only way to go.”
    â€œMaybe we can go fishing sometime. In the summer.” He knew he really couldn’t do it and keep their relationship impersonal.
    â€œSounds good to me. But, hey, if you’re up to it, there’s a charity Penguin Plunge at the Winter Carnival in Whitefish in February. A hole is cut into the ice at Whitefish Lake and then participants take a dip to raise money for a great cause. Sounds like a Navy SEAL job to me.”
    He laughed. “Are you doing it?”
    â€œEvery year.”
    â€œIf I don’t have anything else going on, I guess I could risk it.” He should have said he would be busy. Hell, he might be if Rose was having the babies and ran into trouble.
    Debbie smiled at him, her cheeks and nose rosy from the cold, looking so pleased that unless he had something really pressing going on, he knew he’d be taking the Penguin Plunge with her. But maybe he could convince Rowdy to go along with them, just to stay out of trouble.
    They finished their dive checks, then walked out on the ice to where the car had broken through. The ice had been so clear when the accident first happened, it was like walking on glass. They could see the vegetation on the bottom of the lake in the shallower parts. But now snow covered the ice.
    They dove around the bottom of the lake where the car had rested, searching for any other evidence they could find.
    Debbie pointed to some thick vegetation. Allan joined her as she took pictures of the location of a 9 mm gun buried in the plants. She bagged it as evidence and slipped it into her mesh diving bag. After looking for as long as they could and not finding anything else of importance, they returned to the surface. But Allan was glad they had found that much. Once they removed their face masks, tanks, and flippers, they threw on their parkas and headed back to the car.
    â€œGood find,” Allan said. “What I don’t understand is how the gun was outside the vehicle if it belonged to the dead man.”
    â€œThe driver’s window was broken. Maybe the pressure of the water filling the car caused the gun to float out or be pushed out. Or maybe it didn’t belong to this guy. Maybe it was there already. But it looks like it hasn’t been down there for long.”
    Allan looked it over. “I agree. No rust on it.”
    â€œConsidering the location of the gun, I assume it moved a bit in the soil and vegetation when they dragged the car out of there.”
    â€œProbably.”
    They began the task of removing their wet suits—gloves, hoods, and booties first. Then the parkas had