Stranded

  “Word spreads quickly among the crew.”

  She paused at that, wondering if he was keeping tabs on her—and she rather liked the notion. “Well, it wasn’t a date—not in the traditional sense—and what’s important is what I learned.”

  Gage leaned against the closed door. “Which is?”

  “Clint confirmed it was Abby that went overboard.”

  He stepped from the door, moving toward her. “Really?”

  “Yes.” She sank on the bed, tucking a leg beneath her.

  “And he knows this, how? Was he part of the rescue crew?”

  “No, but like you said, word spreads among the crew.”

  “Okay, so what happened?”

  “Clint said his source, for lack of a better word, told him Abby was taken to Kodiak Hospital, and word is she left from there.”

  “We knew as much.”

  “But Clint’s the first from the crew to actually acknowledge it was Abby that went overboard.”

  “And that’s significant, how?”

  “For one, we now know Abby went overboard. Whether or not she was the one who made it to the hospital three hours later is a totally different question. Clint said the rumor among the crew was that Abby was drunk, got too close to the railing, and fell overboard.”

  “All right.”

  “Not all right. Whoever said that is lying.”

  “And you know that, how?”

  “Because Abby is allergic to alcohol.”

  “I’ve heard of that. . . . She’s actually allergic?”

  “Yes. Docs weren’t sure what in alcohol was causing her severe allergic response. They rattled off a list of ingredients she might have been reacting to, but Abby didn’t care what the cause was—two severe reactions were enough. She’s avoided alcohol altogether since our senior year of college.”

  “Interesting.” Gage sat on the bed beside her. “Did you call Clint on it?”

  “How could I without exposing the fact that I knew Abby better than I claimed?”

  “Right. Don’t want to blow your cover.”

  Was that sarcasm clinging to his words? Though she could hardly blame him after the day’s events. “Gage, we need to find out who was part of that rescue crew. They were the last ones to see Abby alive.”

  “Clint’s a medic. Did you ask him?”

  “Yes. He wasn’t part of the rescue crew, and he doesn’t know who was.”

  “And you don’t find that odd?”

  “He was giving a massage at the time.”

  “You don’t think medics chat amongst themselves? Any of us working SAR discuss our cases in hopes that it may be of help or instruction to someone else one day.”

  “Either way, he said he didn’t know, so we need to find another way to get that information.”

  “And how do you propose we go about that?”

  “I’ll talk to Clint again in the morning. See if I can’t get him to ask around for me. It’ll be less conspicuous that way.”

  Gage sat forward, his arms resting on his thighs. “Sounds like you’ve got it all sorted out, so if we’re finished here . . .”

  She rested a hand on his knee to stop him from getting up. “I am truly sorry about earlier, about putting you in that position with Mullins. It wasn’t fair of me.”

  He exhaled. “But you’re going to keep pressing forward.”

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  With a sigh, he stood. “It’s late, and it’s been a rough couple of days. We should both get some sleep.” He held his door open.

  There was so much more she wanted to say, but would he even listen? If only she could go back to that moment as they stood before the fire, when his lips hovered over hers. If only . . .

  “’Night, Gage.” She stepped out the door, and he shut it behind her.

  Gage plopped back on the bed, frustration flaming through him. He’d covered for her at the risk of ruining LFA’s reputation. What was wrong with him? Watching Darcy standing there so bravely, ready to admit the truth to Mullins, knowing it would cost her the excursion gig, he couldn’t let her do it.

  He punched the pillow beneath his back, scrunching it into place, and retrieved his Cussler novel. He had to clear his mind of Darcy St. James.

  A half hour and a finished novel later, he clicked on the TV, only to find nothing—nothing but the Bering’s closed-circuit announcements.

  Wonderful. He tossed the remote aside. And of course he hadn’t brought a spare book. With a sigh, he tugged open the nightstand drawer in hopes that a previous guest had left a book behind, but found only a brown leather-bound Gideon Bible.

  Figures. Die of boredom or read the Bible.

  He grabbed the book and kicked back on the bed, flipping to the first chapter of the first book—Genesis 1. “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” The verse tugged at his heart. He recalled it from his youth spent in church, but that was before everything fell apart.

  He considered tossing the book aside, but glancing at the clock and finding it barely past one and himself wide awake, he decided anything was better than staring at the ceiling. Maybe it would even put him to sleep.

  Gage flipped the page, shocked to find himself at the end of Genesis and surprised that so much of it had seemed familiar. How had it held his attention so? He looked at the clock. Nearly half past three.

  He tucked the Bible back in the drawer and reclined on the pillow. Whoever wrote Genesis sure knew how to tell a story. A talking serpent, a birthright sold over a bowl of stew, adultery, and a man falsely imprisoned . . .

  It was definitely intriguing, but it couldn’t possibly hold the answers he so desperately needed or the healing he craved.

  26

  The next morning, rain lashed against the windows, effectively corralling everyone aboard the Bering inside. A day at sea with all exterior decks drenched in a downpour meant a hot, stifling interior. Darcy had yet to locate Gage. She’d headed to his cabin first thing, yearning to see him, but there’d been no answer. She knew he had a training class at one, and if she couldn’t locate him before then, she’d wait outside the meeting room for him to arrive. She hated how they’d left things last night, and she wouldn’t be able to focus until she’d spoken with him.

  Oddly enough, the undercurrent of unrest pulsing through her seemed to be pulsing through the entire ship. Everyone was antsy, anxious to reach Dutch Harbor, ready to explore—but they were stuck, the torrential rain boxing them inside like caged animals. She had no idea what her role would be in the next excursion or if she’d have one at all.

  With her lack of applicable skills and nonexistent swimming ability, Gage could rightly refuse her continuing on the excursions. He hadn’t said anything in Mullins’ office yesterday, but come tomorrow morning’s excursion . . . who knew? Gage and LFA’s motto was “Safety First.” He could hardly allow her to continue and still hold true to their principle.

  She stepped on the elevator and pushed the button for Deck 9, hoping to find Gage in the activities room.

  The elevator paused at Deck 5, and her heart skipped a beat until the doors slid open. Two women stepped on, both in their early twenties with long dark hair, one about three inches taller than the other. Darcy glanced over to greet them and froze. Her gaze fastened on the taller woman’s neck—more precisely, on the distinctive shell necklace nestled in the swell of her collarbone. The shell, purple in gradient shades, rested in a sterling silver mold following the natural outline of the shell itself. It was unique, one of a kind. It was Abby’s.

  “That necklace,” she said, finding her voice. “Where did you get it?”

  The woman flipped her long hair over her shoulder. “It was a gift.”

  Darcy stepped closer, thankful the elevator doors had shut and the woman was trapped, at least until the next stop. “A gift from whom?”

  The woman squared her shoulders. “What’s it to you?”

  “It belongs to my friend.”

&n
bsp; “I don’t think so, lady.” She turned her back on Darcy, resuming her conversation with her friend.

  “Look on the back,” Darcy interrupted, resisting the urge to grab the woman’s shoulder and spin her back around. “You’ll see the initials A. T. followed by Proverbs 17:17.”

  The woman’s gaze shifted down, but she didn’t touch the pendant.

  “Look, lady,” the other woman said, “you’ve obviously got Celia’s necklace mixed up with your friend’s. It’s not like it’s one of a kind or anything.”

  The elevator beeped, and the doors started to open. Darcy panicked, hitting the Emergency Stop button. “Actually, it is one of a kind.”

  “Are you loco?” The woman reached for the button as the emergency alarm sounded.

  Darcy shielded it with her body. “I know it’s one of a kind, because I made it for my friend. Please just look on the back—you’ll see her initials.”

  “Just do it, Celia”—the woman sighed—“so we can get away from this crazy broad.”

  “Brandi . . . ” Celia protested.

  “Just do it and prove her wrong.”

  “Fine.” Celia huffed and flipped the pendant over. Her eyes widened as her mouth slackened.

  Darcy smiled. Another clue, Abbs. “Where’d you get it?”

  “It was a gift. I didn’t steal it from nobody.”

  “I’m not suggesting you did, Celia. But who gave it to you?”

  Celia looked down, nibbling her bottom lip coated thick with red gloss.

  “Someone on the ship?” Darcy guessed.

  Celia looked down, embarrassment flushing her cheeks. “I didn’t know he stole it.”

  “He, who?”

  “Ted.”

  “Ted Norris? Does he work excursions?” Darcy tried to hide the shock in her voice, not wanting to upset Celia any more than she already had.

  “Yeah . . .”

  Brandi shook her head. “Mmm, Cee, I told you the guy was a loser.” She planted her hands on her hips. “He gave you some other chick’s jewelry. He’s just trying to get in your pants . . . or worse.”

  “What do you mean worse?” Darcy asked.

  “Brandi’s watched one too many of those cop shows.” Celia slipped off the necklace. “Here . . .” She dropped it in Darcy’s hand. “You can give it back to your friend.”

  “I wish I could. She went missing off this ship a few days ago.”

  The shrill emergency alarm ceased, and a voice crackled over the intercom. “Don’t panic. We are working to get you out as fast as we can.”

  Darcy stepped away from the control panel.

  “What do you mean missing?” Brandi asked.

  “I mean, she was working on the ship, and supposedly she’s the person who went overboard. The cruise line says they took her to the hospital on Kodiak after the rescue, but from there she vanished.”

  Celia’s eyes narrowed. “What are you? Some sort of cop?”

  “Or spy?” Brandi’s eyes widened.

  Celia cocked her head. “A spy? Girl, you’ve got to be kidding. She ain’t no spy.”

  Brandi eyed Darcy up and down. “Then what are you?”

  “I’m just looking for my friend.”

  The doors opened, and they were greeted by the same man who had rescued Darcy her first night on board.

  “You again?” He arched a brow before checking on the other two ladies. “Everyone all right?”

  “Just fine,” Celia said.

  “Stupid alarm just went off,” Brandi said, glancing in Darcy’s direction with a smile.

  Darcy mouthed thank you as she clutched Abby’s necklace tight, willing the tears not to fall.

  She needed to find Ted. Had he been part of the rescue crew that night? Had he pulled the necklace from Abby’s neck? Abby never took it off. Period. Not in all the years since Darcy had given it to her back in their freshman year of college.

  Fear tingled through Darcy’s fingertips. What had happened to Abby after she went in the water?

  “Lady.”

  Darcy turned to find Brandi bustling down the corridor toward her.

  She reached Darcy’s side a bit winded. “We need to talk.”

  Darcy followed Brandi down the hall and into the stairwell. Brandi leaned over the rail, looking up and down before speaking, just as Darcy had done with Gage her first day on board.

  “Do you know something about Abby?” she asked, praying she’d finally found someone truly willing to talk.

  “Your friend. No. Sorry, girl.”

  It took a moment for the pain of that disappointment to subside. “Then . . . ?”

  “Last spring, right about when I started working on the Bering, another gal fell overboard.”

  “Off the Bering?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Were they able to rescue her?”

  “Uh-uh.”

  A door shut above, and Brandi stopped talking. Voices and footsteps descended a flight, and then another door shut.

  Brandi leaned back over the rail and peered up to be sure they were alone again. “That’s the strange part,” she finally whispered.

  Darcy’s brows pinched together, the excitement of a possible lead coursing through her. “Strange?”

  “The girl was vacationing with her family. She was out on the balcony reading when her family went to bed for the night. Next morning her book is on the balcony floor, but she’s nowhere to be found.”

  “What?”

  “Everyone assumed she fell overboard.”

  “And that was it?”

  “Far as I know. Coast Guard did a search, but nothing turned up. Her parents were upset and carried on for a while, but it simply died down. There was nothing to do.”

  So within the past year a female passenger was presumed to have fallen overboard but no body was ever found, then Mrs. Bowen disappeared or was murdered and her body was never recovered, and now Abby.

  Could they all be related?

  Where is he? Darcy banged on Gage’s cabin door one more time in frustration. She’d searched the activities center—the entire ship, actually—and ended up back here. His meeting didn’t start for hours, and she was dying to share what she’d learned. She needed to share and wanted it to be with him. The Bering’s past was revealing a history of missing women.

  “Hey, Darcy.”

  She turned to find Ted strolling down the corridor. At least she’d found one of the men she was looking for.

  “Just the man I was hoping to see.”

  Ted smiled. “Oh yeah. Why’s that?”

  She pulled the necklace from her shirt pocket and let it dangle from her hand. “Care to explain?”

  “Explain what?” His smile held.

  “How you came across this necklace?” She held it up, anger for Abby fueling her.

  “What are you talking about?” He looked at her as if she were crazy.

  “You gave it to Celia. . . .”

  “Celia? Oh right.” He snapped. “The hottie from the gift shop. What about her?”

  “Where’d you get it?”

  “Get what?”

  “The necklace. Where did you get it?”

  “Why are you getting so worked up?” He stepped closer. “Disappointed I haven’t shown you any favors?”

  Was the guy insane?

  “It’s only because I thought you and Clint had a thing going,” he continued.

  “Clint and I don’t have anything going.”

  “Cool.” He smiled, inching closer still.

  Her skin crawled with each step he took. “This necklace”—she shoved it in his face—“belonged to Abby Walsh.”

  He frowned. “The chef?”

  “Yes.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “This is Abby’s necklace.”

  He cocked his head slightly. “You know, for a woman you only met once, you seem to know an awful lot about her.”

  “I saw her wearing this the day I boa
rded.” She always wore it.

  “Those shell necklaces are a dime a dozen.”

  “Not with Abby’s initials on the back.” She flipped the pendant over.

  He squinted. “A. T.? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought Abby’s name is Walsh. You just said so.”

  How did she cover that one? Misdirection. “The point is, I saw Abby wearing this necklace the day I boarded, and Celia said you gave it to her, so the question is . . . where did you get it?”

  He remained silent a moment, then sighed. “Look, I’m not proud of it, all right, but . . .”

  “But?”

  “I found it.”

  Darcy crossed her arms. “You found it?”

  “Yeah, out on one of the decks.”

  “Which one?”

  “I don’t remember. People are dropping stuff all the time. After a day passed and no one claimed it, I figured it was fair game.”

  “When did you find it?”

  “A couple days ago.”

  “But Abby was wearing it the morning I boarded the Bering.”

  “She must have lost it shortly after.”

  “How would she lose it if it was around her neck?”

  “Things fall . . .” He narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute. Why all the questions about Abby? You know, you are starting to act just like her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She was always asking questions.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  He smiled, but there wasn’t any warmth in it. “There you go again. Another question.”

  “What can I say? I’m a curious journalist.”

  “I think nosy and misdirected describe you better.” He glanced at his watch. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got someplace I need to be.”

  27

  Darcy knocked on Abby’s cabin door, praying she’d find Abby’s roommate, Pam, in a more amicable mood than the last time they spoke. In an effort to help that mood along, she’d come armed with a piping hot mocha—extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings.

  Her encounter with Ted had reminded her that she still had the rest of Abby’s belongings to go through. The night of Abby’s disappearance, she’d only been able to grab Abby’s purse—which was now missing.