Chapter 1

Emily shivered as she lay bound and gagged in the boat as it motored out to sea. Plastic cuffs behind her back secure her hands. The last thing she remembers is leaving the bar with her friend and wife. Whoever had snatched the three of them had stripped them down to their underwear. A dog collar, linked by a rope, was attached to the three women's necks. Emily could see the back of her oldest friend, Anne Logan. She could feel a tug on her collar from behind; she gathered that this was Tracey, her friend's wife.

Emily Prentiss had taken some leave to Visit her oldest friend, Anne Logan and her wife, Tracey. They flew the MH-60T Jayhawk helicopter from Air Station Astoria for the US Coast Guard. Emily knew how treacherous the northwest Pacific Ocean was around here. She loved listening to Anne and Tracey tell her about their rescues. She secretly wished to fly a Coast Guard rescue helicopter like her best friend; Emily loved her job as a profiler. Constantly delving into serial killers' minds took its toll on her, especially when the team had to wait for their UnSub to kill again. Tracey and Anne could pluck someone to safety. The day she arrived, Anne and her helicopter crew had pulled a young dog walker from the surf line after she had got into difficulty trying to save her dog from the rip current it was caught in. Her flight mechanic and rescue swimmer had successfully revived her as they flew her to the hospital.

"You disgust me, your deviants. Look at what you were wearing," the man snarled at his three bound guests. "I watched the three of you cavorting against each other; you tried to enchant my wife, you whore," he yelled into Emily's face, his saliva dripping onto her face.

"We are five miles off Tillamook Bay," a voice shouted from the wheelhouse.

"Good, shut her down and come out here and help finish preparing them for their swim," He announced and laughed.

Two women and one man exited the wheelhouse, each carrying web belts with diving weights attached. A strap was attached to each ankle, allowing the diving weight to dangle a couple of feet below.

"It's 5 Nautical miles as the crow flies to land that way." He pointed off to the starboard side of the boat

"No one has made it yet, ladies; they usually last a few hours. You three whores look fitter than my usual guests; cuff their ankles together better to make it more of a challenge," he laughed as he watched their ankles secured together.

The apparent leader checked all bindings before the three bound ladies were stood up and pushed towards the side rail of the boat. The three women tried to resist but didn't stand a chance. Without warning, Anne was picked up and tossed over the side, followed by Emily and, finally, Tracey.

Three heads bobbed to the surface. Each woman struggled, only able to kick their legs together like a mermaid, making the simple act of kicking to keep their head above water difficult with the additional weight hanging from their ankles moving was arduous. Their mouths were taped shut; the damn UnSub had used waterproof gaffer tape. Each woman tried unsuccessfully to rub the tape off different ways but realised it had been wrapped around their heads completely a few times to prevent its removal without a sharp implement.

The boat's engines roared to life and started to move off. Three sets of eyes watched the boat's light disappear. Emily began to panic as the boat disappeared. Her FBI training didn't cover being thrown overboard and tied to her friends dressed in only underwear.

Emily's profiler's mind knew that UnSub had done this before to be this organised and rational, though it was becoming problematic. She was feeling too cold to concentrate. Realising their only chance was to try and swim ashore before the cold killed them or they drowned. With a series of grunts and head movements, the three women started to move in the direction of land, having no choice but to believe their kidnapper. The trio moved off as best as possible with bound hands and ankles. The added weight on their ankles makes it extremely difficult to move.

Being so far offshore, it was completely black out here with no light pollution, no stars were visible because of the cloud cover, and to make things a little worse for the trio of swimmers, the wind had increased, making the sea choppy.

EJ

"Mark! Mark! Mark!" alerted Dave, flight mechanic of the Coast Guard Jayhawk helicopter.

"What have you got?" Asked the pilot

"Looks like three P.I.W's., panning camera around now," he announced as he slew the Jayhawks FLIR camera around.

The screen showed three figures moving strangely. "Why aren't they using their arms?" asked the pilot as he looked at his screen in the cockpit.

"They're cold, sir; what are we four miles out? They aren't wearing Gumby suits by the looks of it," announced the rescue swimmer

"Looks like you'll be getting wet, petty officer; get yourself ready. Standby for hoist deployment of the rescue swimmer" announced the pilot.

"I will swim across to them and quickly asses them, sir, and all being well, we can bring them up in the basket," she told the pilot as she fitted her last swim fin.

"Roger that, Jenny, be careful. Something feels strange about this. Watch your back. If you feel uneasy, back off and radio in," the pilot told his rescue swimmer

"Yes, sir,"

EJ

Emily, Anne and Tracey hadn't noticed the approaching Coast Guard helicopter. The three women were too cold to care. Their only concern is fighting to keep their heads above the water by kicking their legs.

"Kick, Kick, kick," was all Emily could think; she was close to giving up.

The downwash from the hovering helicopter seemed to break into her numbed mind; she looked up and watched a figure descending from the helicopter. She blinked a few times, believing she was hallucinating and watched the yellow-helmeted person enter the water. Her mind was so numb from the cold that she was dreaming. Three sets of eyes watched the approaching orange and yellow figure, oblivious to the helicopter hovering above them.

"My name is Jennifer. I am a Coast Guard Rescue Swimmer; what happened….. what the Hell?… Lt Cdr Logan?….Lt Logan?" Asked a shocked woman, recognising both pilots and their visiting friend, though she couldn't remember her name

Closing the gap, she pulled her rescue knife and released each woman from their bindings. "Are any of you injured?" She asked

"C-c—cold Jen…." Anne stuttered

"Rescue 6035, Rescue Swimmer,"

"6035, go ahead."

"Request basket recovery of three survivors, sir. It is Lt Cdr, Lt Logan, and their visiting friend. They are all in bad shape from the cold. They are only dressed in their underwear. Request that you expedite the recovery," requested the rescue swimmer.

"All received will bring her down as low as possible. Petty officer cleared for basket recovery of the survivors,"

Jenny swam tracey Logan over to the descending basket first as she looked the worst of the three women. "I've got you, ma'am. You're going to be nice and warm up on the plane. Dave will look after you until I get back," Jenny told her friend as she swam her to the basket.

..

Pushing the shaking pilot into the basket, she gave Dave the ready-to-hoist signal and grabbed the side of the basket as it started to rise to steady it. Dropping back into the water, she swam back.

"T-T-Ta…." Emily tried to tell her to take her friend first, but she was too cold

Jenny looked at both women. They both looked terrible. She swam both women together, concerned about how long either woman could stay afloat. They were both close to exhaustion. Jenny manoeuvred her friend into the basket and signalled for her to be recovered. Dropping back into the water after letting go of the basket, she had to pull Emily's head above the water. She was spent; they had been rescued just in time.

"We are both going up together, Ma'am. Don't worry; I will look after you," Jenny told Emily as she held her and used her swim fins to keep them in place.

Emily barely registered the strop being fed. under her arms or hoisted into the helicopter.

EJ

"Sir, we need to get them back to higher care immediately," Jenny told the pilots over the intercom as she busied herself treating her three patients. She hadn't registered the pilot's response but felt the nose of the Jayhawk drop and heard the increase of the two engines, knowing the pilots had opened both throttles to their stops, pushing the Jayhawk close to its 200 mph top speed.

"What happened to them, Jenny?" Asked the pilot in command

"They were too cold to make much sense, sir. They had their hands tied behind their backs and ankles bound with diving weights hanging from their ankles. They were gagged with gaffer tape wrapped around their heads a few times. Whoever did this to them didn't want them to survive." She explained as she monitored her three passengers

"Could you make it, Jenny?" asked the flight mechanic.

Currently, the Coast Guard has 350 rescue swimmers, four of whom are female. Women had to achieve the same physical, endurance and performance standards as their Male colleagues to earn the qualification of a coast guard rescue swimmer, something Jennifer Jareau was damn proud of

"Wearing my dry suit and swim fins, in my underwear, hands and feet bound, gagged, not a chance. You saved their lives, Dave, when you spotted them; they didn't have long left before succumbing to the cold. I would love to get the bastard that did this in the water." She answered

"5 minutes to landing, the police and FBI want to speak to us, so once we offload the survivors to EMS, we are shutting down," announced the pilot

"Why does the FBI want to talk to us?" Asked Dave

"Anne's friend is supervisory special agent Emily Prentiss of the FBI; she is a Profiler, master chief. Ortega was taking them out to ride the surf and run the bar this morning. He found their purses and cell phones ditched under their car. He reported it to the police, civil, and Coast Guard. It seems Emily was teaching some profiling classes to them while she was visiting." Answered the pilot

Jenny studied the face of the woman wrapped in blankets and wearing her mermaid wool cap. "She doesn't look much like a fed," she thought, not realising she had spoken aloud.

"You don't look half mermaid, Petty Officer Jareau," laughed the aircraft commander

"Pretty mer…" muttered the federal agent

"Not a single word, AMT2 David Todd or I will tell your daughters you were mean to their favourite godmother when we swim next," the rescue swimmer warned her friend.

Holding his hands up, he smirked, remembering his daughter's face that day in the pool; the blonde Rescue swimmer had a very lucrative side job. She appeared at kids' parties dressed as a mermaid swimming with the kids; she combined the two things she loved: swimming and mermaids. She could often be found in the hospital rehab pool swimming with the terminally ill kids on her weekends off, refusing anything offered by the parents, happy to make the terminally sick kids smile, she told parents and hospital staff, giving them a moment of joy was payment enough, she was well known for this doing so at every coast guard air station she served and earning her the nickname Coasties Little Mermaid. Also, the five-foot-six blonde swam like a fish, quickly out-swimming her fellow rescue swimmers above and below the water.

"Jenny, Ambulances are on the apron waiting; we are on short final. We will be on deck in three minutes," announced the pilot

"Copy that, sir. We are ready for landing in the back," she answered, checking her three patients.

EJ

"Bastard, bastards, how is it possible?" he fumed and slapped his terrified wife,

terrified eyes looked up at her husband shaking from the cold, and the naked woman had been treading water for an hour; scuttlebutt around the air station was two coasties, and their friend had been spotted alive by a returning coast guard helicopter. He picked up the terrified woman and tossed her over the rail into the cold Pacific Ocean. He looked down at his wife, now retreading water next to the gagged woman also treading water.

"Cut the tape off her mouth, and then you can come back on board and get dry. It is a good job. I love you. No one else would put up with someone so needy and pathetic. Now!" he yelled.

David Coleman knew no better; he had grown up with his abusive father, who treated his mother like a second-class citizen. She was only there to keep his house clean, cook for him, and provide him with sex whenever he demanded it. His father had joined the Coast Guard after leaving school. He joined as a gunner's mate. When he joined the Coast Guard, it was a male-only service. His career had been exemplary, rising quickly until 'That damn day,' as his father called. 1973 was the year the Coast Guard allowed women to be sworn into the regular Coast Guard service. Like father like son, he knew no better. He beat Quinn, his wife. He controlled every aspect of her life. He held her money, making sure she couldn't leave him.

"Let me go, please; I won't tell anyone," Tina Faye begged as she shivered in the cold Pacific water.

"You're a disgrace, Tina. You don't deserve to wear the uniform of the Coast Guard; a man could do better," taunted the Misogynist,

Discovering that the two pilots had been rescued forced David Coleman to adapt. Tina was bound like before. Attached to the ropes around her ankle was a large plastic box sitting on top of the boat's rail, holes drilled in the side to allow water to pour in.

"Bye, Culinary Specialist Tina Faye," he smirked at the terror in her eyes as he pushed the box into the sea.

"No! Please don't. I don't want to die," she begged.

David didn't answer the desperate woman's plea. He watched the plastic box filling with water, starting to sink slowly. The package was fully submerged two minutes later, heading towards the sea bed. To make her fear last longer, David had attached thirty feet of rope between the box and the ankles of his victim. Quinn returned to her husband. He pushed her down and unzipped his fly, guiding her head to his groin. Tina disappeared quickly as Neptune himself pulled her down. David groaned in delight as his wife pleasured him after witnessing Tina Faye's plunge into death.

EJ