Hostile Waters

by William Nikkel

  Cherise wrapped her arms around her friend and squeezed. “I’m just sorry it took so long for me to get here.”

  “You’re here,” Lindsey said, easing herself from Cherise’s grasp. “That’s all that matters.”

  “You’re living in New York, now?”

  “A couple of weeks each year, in a room at the Waldorf. The State Department rents an entire floor when the UN delegation is in town. That’s why I asked you to meet me here in the City. My home is actually in D.C., a small place near the Capitol.”

  “You’re doing well, then?”

  “My position with the UN delegation keeps me busy.”

  “Let’s have lunch. And you can tell me about your father.”

  They climbed the steps to the restaurant. Lindsey informed the maître d’ she had a reservation. They were seated at a table overlooking 42nd Street. Their waiter appeared almost immediately and asked if they were ready to order.

  “Would you like a drink?” Lindsey asked Cherise. “Vodka martini, if I remember correctly.”

  Cherise smiled. “Am I going to need it?”

  “You might.”

  “Perhaps later,” she said.

  Lindsey turned to the waiter. “I’ll have the cobb salad and iced tea.”

  Cherise didn’t bother with her menu. “I’ll have the same.”

  The young lady walked away, and they turned their attention on each other.

  “So tell me everything,” Cherise said.

  She watched Lindsey peer into her glass of water as though reliving recent events. Putting them in order. Trying her best to hold onto hope.

  The way she had in Afghanistan.

  Only not doing a good job of it.

  “Basically,” Lindsey said, “it’s what I told you on the phone. My father’s missing and the authorities show little or no interest in finding him.”

  “But they investigated?”

  “I guess.”

  She heard the hopelessness in Lindsey’s tone. “You said he took a cruise and never returned home.”

  Lindsey faced the window, and Cherise followed her friend’s gaze. A man strolled the sidewalk on the opposite side of Lexington Avenue carrying a monkey on his shoulder. “Dad should have returned home two weeks ago. Blue Water Cruise Line maintains he got off the Caribbean Star in Miami along with all the other passengers.”

  “And you haven’t heard from him?”

  She met Cherise’s gaze. “Not a word.”

  “What did the police have to say?”

  “It’s their opinion he met a woman and ran off with her. They’re confident he’ll show up once the romance wears off.”

  “You don’t agree?”

  “I’m sure Dad’s capable of doing most anything, but not that . . . not without telling me.”

  “You’re positive?”

  “As much as I can be under the circumstances. You have to understand how it is between us. I’m the only family he has left.”

  “So what do you think happened?”

  “Knowing you, probably the same thing you’re thinking.” Resolve hardened Lindsey’s expression. “The representative for the cruise line lied. I don’t believe my father left the ship . . . not in Miami, anyway.”

  Cherise nodded.

  And not under his own power.

  CHAPTER 9

  Cherise noticed a man and a woman hurry out of the restaurant and take the escalator down. A multitude of scenarios whirled in her mind. If Lindsey’s father left the cruise ship in Miami and was on the run, he had a good reason for doing so. If something happened to him at sea, a representative of the cruise line could very well have covered it up to protect the integrity of the company.

  “It’s not inconceivable the representative of the cruise line lied,” she said, peering across the table at Lindsey. “A cruise is supposed to be an opportunity to relax and have fun at sea. But all too often, it doesn’t turn out that way. You’re probably aware there have been a ton of cruise ship passenger disappearances. Some fall overboard by accident or otherwise and wind up being rescued. Some are never seen again. Others disappear more mysteriously.”

  “Like my father.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. The problem with investigations is they’re frequently inconclusive, primarily because in many cases missing passengers are never found . . . dead or alive. Either way the reputation of the cruise line is damaged. Oftentimes, quite severely. Especially now that victims’ family members flood social media with their stories. So it’s entirely possible for Blue Water Cruise Line to be motivated to cover up a suspicious disappearance. No matter what’s involved.”

  Lindsey laid her hand on Cherise’s. “So you agree with me?”

  Cherise tried to smile convincingly. “I’m saying it’s possible. Suppose you start from the beginning. Tell me everything you know or have been told about what happened.”

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like that martini?”

  “Afterward.”

  Lindsey removed her phone from her purse and set it on the table. “I have several texts to show you. One of which I didn’t share with the police.”

  Cherise hadn’t expected to hear the last part. She suspected there was more to the situation than a missing father.

  But what?

  “You had a good reason for keeping the text from the cops, I’m sure,” she said. She’d let Lindsey explain in her own time.

  Lindsey nodded. “You’ll understand when you see it.”

  “No worries, Linds. We’ve been friends a long time.”

  Their gazes met and held. “You’re the only one who calls me that.”

  Cherise smiled. “Because you mean a lot to me.”

  Lindsey dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her napkin. “Honestly, I don’t know what I would have done without you there with me in Afghanistan.”

  But I didn’t keep you from being shot.

  Cherise appreciated what her friend was saying, remembering how alone and vulnerable she felt the day she entered the largely male world of Special Ops. She learned to persevere, and became one of the proud few. But the scars remained.

  Pain and loneliness are more bearable if shared.

  “I’m sure you would have been fine,” she said. “But having another woman to talk to . . . that meant a lot to me, as well.”

  Lindsey faced the window. After a long moment of silence, it appeared to Cherise her friend was having a difficult time staying focused.

  “We were talking about your father,” she said. “Tell me about him.”

  “I know I must sound like I’m procrastinating, but I’m not.”

  “Take your time. I understand this is difficult for you.”

  Lindsey turned from the window and offered a narrow smile. “Can you believe it? I didn’t even know who my father was until a couple of years ago.”

  “I wasn’t aware of that.”

  “Not many people are.”

  “Do you have a picture of him?”

  She pulled a snapshot from her purse and handed it to Cherise. “It’s only right that I tell you everything. My mom and dad met in D.C. when she worked for the State Department. He’d just returned from Africa and was there organizing a fundraiser after having spent a year in the bush drilling wells to pipe clean drinking water to several remote villages. According to my mom, they had a whirlwind romance that ended when he returned to Africa to continue his cause. Growing up, I often wondered about my father. Why he had abandoned me. Mom never would tell me who he was. She passed away from cancer two and a half years ago. Near the end, she told me my father never knew about the pregnancy. Which is what she wanted. She claimed he was off saving the world and she didn’t want to interfere with his work.”

  “How sad. Your mother never married?”

  “She came close once, but the relationship didn’t work out. I think she still loved Dad.”

  Listening to Lindsey talk, and knowing the mental torment she had been going through, Cheri
se recalled her own version of hell. Two days following her sixth birthday, watching a dark-haired man gun down her mother in a marketplace in France. And then her father dying in a single car accident in the middle of summer on a rural road outside of Suitland, Maryland. In spite of the suspicious nature of the crash, the Navy ruled his death accidental and closed the file. The years afterward spent searching for answers to the truth behind his death. Her parents, like Lindsey’s parents, had never married, even after her mother got pregnant. She had wanted it that way.

  Just as Lindsey’s mother had.

  “We’ve known each other what, six or seven years?” Cherise said. “And you never shared that story with me. Me, of all people . . . your friend.”

  Lindsey shrugged. “There was enough prejudice among the troops. My mother being black and my father white, I didn’t want my mixed heritage to add to what already existed.”

  “And you thought that would make a difference to me?” Cherise reached out and gripped Lindsey’s arm. “Linds, we were two women in a man’s world—friends to the end. You could have told me.”

  Lindsey’s gaze dropped. “I realize that. But after a while, it just didn’t matter anymore.”

  “Till now?”

  Lindsey’s lips spread into a shaky smile. “Till now.”

  Cherise sympathized with her friend. She’d come to help, not criticize. She asked, “How’d you and your father finally connect?”

  The question brought another smile. Tears welled in Lindsey’s eyes. In them, Cherise saw pride. Understanding.

  Love for her father.

  “That,” Lindsey said after a moment, “is another story.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Cherise didn’t push. She saw no reason to.

  “My father’s name is Sam King,” Lindsey began. “On her deathbed, Mom gave me a sealed envelope and told me to look my father up and give it to him. I didn’t know the contents of the letter at the time. But I learned later it explained my birth, growing up, everything. It took a few months but I found Dad in D.C. at a fundraiser for his non-profit charity, Safe Water for the World. You can imagine the surprise when he learned he had a daughter. But he warmed to me right away.”

  “And you’ve kept in contact with each other?”

  “When he’s not out of the country, he spends his time promoting his charity. He owns a place in D.C. not far from where I live.” Lindsey peered down at her fingers and fiddled with a gold ring on her right hand. “Cherise, my father is a brilliant engineer and the kindest, most gentle giving man I know. He could easily be taken advantage of.”

  Cherise pointed. “Did your father give that to you?”

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Lindsey held her hand out flat exposing a dazzling blood-red stone. “He gave it to me last Christmas. It’s a Burmese ruby.”

  “I’m sure it means a lot to you. Tell me about the cruise.”

  “That was my idea. As I mentioned earlier, Dad lives close. Which makes it easy for us to keep in touch. He’d been home since Christmas. Donations were down so I thought it might be good for him to get away and socialize with people outside his usual circle. Maybe even have a shipboard romance.” Lindsey sighed. “Now this. Something bad has happened to him. I know it. And it’s all my fault.”

  Cherise couldn’t let her believe she was responsible. “We don’t know that. And whatever has happened, it’s certainly not your fault. I assume you have keys to his place?”

  “When I didn’t hear from him, that’s the first place I went. Nothing I saw there indicated he had returned home. That’s when I contacted the police.”

  “You mentioned the representative for Blue Water Cruise Line claimed he left the Caribbean Star in Miami along with the other passengers. And you claim he never got off the ship. Did they say anything about his luggage, whether it was still in his cabin or if he had taken it with him?”

  “They said they checked his cabin and found his luggage gone.”

  “He took it with him?”

  “That’s what they implied.”

  “And you think they’re lying?”

  “Not necessarily about that. I’m sure his bags were gone. The question is: who got rid of them? Obviously, they want me to believe Dad disembarked the ship voluntarily, taking his bags with him. Granted, I haven’t known him for a hundred years. But I know him well enough. And I’m saying that’s simply not something he’d do. Not without calling me, or texting . . . something. Someone aboard the ship had to have gotten rid of his things long before there was any investigation.”

  Maybe. Maybe not.

  Cherise convinced herself she had to trust Lindsey’s perception as it related to her father’s disappearance. Proof. Or no proof.

  “You mentioned you received several texts from your father during his trip. Can I see them?”

  “I received two or three from him every time the Caribbean Star made a stop in a port of call. Most are short, saying he’s having a good time. That sort of thing. In one he sent from Key West, the first port of call on his trip, he did say he met a woman by the name of Amanda, and that they were spending a lot of time together. I’ll let you read it. Seems he actually did strike up a shipboard romance.”

  “He didn’t give a last name?”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  “How about her picture?”

  “Sorry.”

  “And the text you didn’t show the police?”

  “It’s this one here.” Lindsey angled the screen toward Cherise.

  “Do you mind?” Cherise held out her hand.

  Lindsey passed her the phone. “I think you’ll understand why I didn’t show it to the police.”

  Cherise read the text:

  I might have just done something stupid. I bought three ugly little figurines today. Primitive deities. Solid gold. All over four inches tall. Mayan, I’ve been told. Pre-Columbian. Corey swears they’re authentic. If so, they belong in a museum. All I have to do is figure out a way to turn them over to the authorities without making trouble.

  “Those gold figurines had to have cost a bundle,” Cherise said. “And black market transactions aren’t handled by check or credit card. Did your dad have the necessary funds available to make a purchase like this?”

  “Apparently. He has money he inherited from his parents.”

  “The important part is he attached a photograph of the idols. From what I can tell, this was taken in his cabin. Which means he was back onboard the Caribbean Star when he sent this.”

  “Implying he hadn’t run off with some woman.”

  “Not there, anyway. Do you have any idea who Corey is?”

  “Scroll up to the text I received from him in Key West. He mentioned Amanda was traveling with her brother Corey.”

  Cherise found it. “No picture attachment, of course.”

  “As you can see, he sent a few pictures with his texts. But there’s no way to tell if Corey or Amanda is in any of them.”

  “So we have no idea what either of them look like?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  Cherise returned Lindsey’s phone and picked up her own. “I think I know a way to get the information we need.”

  “So you’re going to help me find out what happened to my dad?”

  Cherise never doubted for a moment she would. She had several job offers in the queue. Any one of them would net her a very large payday. But none involved a dear friend’s father having gone missing. She’d find out what happened to him. For better, or for worse.

  With only one promise. The truth.

  She leveled her gaze at Lindsey. “Linds, I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

  CHAPTER 11

  On the way back to the Adeona, Jack thought about Cherise. He had no idea where her travels had taken her. Only that she was meeting her friend Lindsey. And that things could turn real serious for her real fast. He figured it would be a pleasant distraction for her to know he had flown to Key West to check out a boat he considered buyin
g.

  A surprise to her as much as it had been to hm.

  He fished his phone from his pocket and tapped the text, wishing he could see the look on her face when she opened it.

  Robert must have noticed him smiling because he asked, “What has you so amused?”

  “I just sent Cherise a text letting her know I’m in Key West buying a boat.”

  “Isn’t she involved with her friend?”

  “Doesn’t hurt to keep her in the loop. Besides, she might need a laugh.”

  “Buying a boat is funny?”

  “Only that we flew five thousand miles to do it.”

  “You’d better put that phone away before you drop the thing over the side.”

  They were nearing the Adeona. Jack slid his cell into his pants pocket and said, “What would I do without you to look after me?”

  “Get into trouble as usual, of course.”

  Jack scoffed. “Right.”

  He climbed aboard the Adeona, excited to be taking her out for a test run. With Robert’s help, he winched the dinghy into place, astern. Once the Boston Whaler was secured, he hurried inside to the controls in the forward cabin. Robert and Salvatore followed.

  Jack said, “Let’s see what this goddess will do.”

  “You’re the captain,” Robert answered.

  Salvatore took a seat on the sofa without comment, apparently content to sit back and let Jack take control of the yacht.

  Jack started the engines and let them idle. The instrument panel came to life and he studied the gauges. All showed normal. Even the fuel tanks read a fraction under full. A fifteen-thousand-dollar bonus.

  “Ready to raise anchor?” he asked Robert.

  “I’ll go out onto the bow and make sure the lines are clear.” Robert stepped behind Jack and opened the starboard hatch, letting in a waft of hot, humid air heavy with the scent of salt and rotting vegetation.

  Jack flipped the power switch to the anchor winch and watched the process through the windscreen. He saw Robert run his hand across his throat in a slashing motion and cut power. He could have handled the procedure by himself, but it was nice to have Robert on the bow to watch for foul-ups.