“Do what you want,” Jack shot back, his temper bubbling close to the surface. “If I were Myron, I would definitely do something ... about the only individual out of all of us who is constantly complaining. That’s up to you. We’re going to bed.”
“I don’t need your attitude,” she sneered.
“Then don’t pick a fight.” Jack was still fuming when we stepped into the bedroom. He immediately shut the door and kicked off his shoes. “I really can’t stand her. This group would be so much better without her. She’s like the seventh wheel that makes all our lives miserable.”
I didn’t want to see anyone — not even Laura — lose a job. “I don’t think she means to be the worst person in the world,” I said as I sank onto the settee and kicked off my sandals. “She’s unhappy and lashes out as a result. Getting her removed from the team won’t make things better for anyone but us.”
“I only care about us.”
That was bold talk, but I knew better. “I feel sorry for her.”
“That’s because you have a good heart.”
“So do you.”
“Not where she’s concerned. I’m not going to pretend to care about her feelings when she goes out of her way to make you miserable. I don’t have it in me, so don’t ask.”
I blew out a sigh and nodded. He wouldn’t budge on that subject, so it seemed a waste of time to push him. “You know what would be good? We should get a hot guy to be the eighth member of the team and she can switch her attention to him.”
Jack snorted. “He would have to be evil, just like her, to even look in her direction.”
“I don’t know. The right man might do wonders for her personality.”
“You only believe that because you’re an optimist.” He stripped out of his shirt and shorts, revealing a ridiculously buff body that belonged on the pages of a beefcake magazine. He was silent for so long I had to wonder if he’d asked a question that I’d somehow missed.
“Did you say something?” I asked after a beat, raising my eyes.
Amusement flitted across his handsome features as he shook his head. “You keep looking at me that way and we’re going to spend the entire night testing the oysters theory.”
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. “Maybe tomorrow night. I ate too much. If you try a complicated maneuver I might puke on you.”
“It could be worth it.”
I had my doubts. “I’m tired.” I moved to the sliding glass doors to look out at the water. I couldn’t see the ghost, but I knew she was still there. I felt her. “I need to think about what I saw. Maybe I imagined it.”
“I don’t think so.” Jack lifted the covers and let loose a low whistle. “You need rest. Into bed. We’ll talk about the ghost in the morning. If she’s still there when we wake up ... .” He left it hanging. I had no doubt he was struggling with what he should say.
“We’ll deal with it tomorrow.” I slid out of my clothes and pulled an oversized T-shirt over my head. It was shapeless and far from sexy, but Jack didn’t seem to mind. “You shouldn’t have let me eat so much,” I complained as we rolled in together and his arms automatically came around me. He tugged until we were both on our sides, facing each other, and my cheek rested against his chest.
“Sleep,” he murmured as he kissed my forehead. “We’ll figure it out.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s the truth.”
That’s all I needed to hear. I drifted off within seconds, although my dreams were of the dark variety.
I WOKE WELL-RESTED. I didn’t feel draggy or overfed. Jack was just stirring when I opened my eyes and the first thing he saw was me staring at him. He probably thought it was creepy, but I didn’t care. He was an absolute masterpiece in the morning with his stubbled chin and sleepy eyes.
“Morning,” I said, grinning as I stretched.
“Morning. Is there a reason you were staring at me?”
“You’re pretty.”
“I was just going to say the same about you.”
“Except when I wake up with bedhead I look like Medusa. You look like a really hot guy with perfectly-tousled hair. It’s not fair.”
“I happen to think you look cute in the morning.” He gave me a quick kiss before engaging in a stretching routine of his own. “How did you sleep?”
“Hard.”
“Dreams?”
I hesitated before answering, but the quick gleam that flashed through his eyes told me lying was a terrible idea. “I dreamed about the ghost on the water a bit,” I admitted, rolling away from him so he couldn’t see the guilt cascading through me. I focused on the sliding glass doors, and before I even realized what I was doing I was on my feet and unlocking them.
“Where are you going?” Jack called after me.
“I just want to see.”
I could hear him muttering and wasn’t surprised when he appeared on the balcony next to me. “Anything?” he asked in a low voice.
I nodded. Now, with the early-morning sun offering a hand, it was even more difficult to make out the astral figure on the water. But I knew where to look. “She’s still out there.”
“Can you give me a basic location?”
“That way.” I pointed. “It’s not like there are any landmarks. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He was terse as he moved his hands to my shoulders. “How far out do you estimate she is?”
That was a difficult question to answer. “I don’t know. I’m bad with distances. I guess ... um ... half a mile? Does that make sense.”
“None of this makes sense. I have faith in you, though. If you say you see a ghost out there, I have to believe you do. We’ll have to find a way to get a closer look, which won’t be easy because I can’t see where you need to go and I’ll be the one driving.”
Something occurred to me. “Only if we take a boat.”
“Are you suggesting we swim out there?” His eyebrows hopped. “There’s probably sharks out there, and after the last time ... .”
He was never going to let that go. He was convinced I’d almost died — something he blamed on Laura — and complained whenever the subject arose. I certainly didn’t want to dwell on it now. “I’m not talking about swimming.”
“Then what are you suggesting?”
I pointed at a large sign on the beach. His forehead wrinkled as he read it.
“Kayaks? Seriously?”
I shrugged. “Why not? It shouldn’t take us that long to paddle out there and I can control our destination.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue. “I’ll think about it. We have other things to do first.”
That was as good as he was going to give this early. I had to take it.
WE BROKE INTO TEAMS AGAIN. This time Jack and I were tasked with going to the aquarium to question the manager, an interview Chris had already set up. It seemed like a long shot, but I wasn’t in charge. Besides, I happened to love a good aquarium, so it wasn’t much of a hardship.
Brock Wilson was waiting for us at the gates. The facility didn’t open for another two hours, so it was just the three of us as we made the rounds. There were very few employees on site, something I found interesting and filed away for later consideration.
“This is the Great Ocean Tank,” Brock volunteered as we stood in front of the open tank that contained so many species of colorful fish I had trouble keeping track of what I had and hadn’t seen. “We have a special educational program in which locals can come and learn about the marine life in our waters … and then feed them.”
I was intrigued by the notion. “Feed them?”
He grinned at me and retrieved a bucket from the ground. “Go ahead and throw some in.”
“Really?” I looked to Jack to make sure it was all right, but he was already nodding.
“Go ahead.” He looked amused by my excitement. “I kind of want to watch.”
I needed no further prodding. I dug my hand into th
e bucket and grabbed a handful of the food, enthusiastically tossing it over the water. The fish close to the surface immediately starting sucking in the nuggets of goodness, causing Brock to laugh delightedly as I leaned over the edge of the tank for a better look.
“Cool, huh?”
I nodded in agreement. Despite the fish, I knew we were at the aquarium with a specific agenda, though, and I directed the conversation toward something important. “We’re actually here for a reason.”
Brock sobered. “That’s what I understand. You’re investigating the dead women, including Savannah Billings, Jenny Fields, Megan Louden and Freya Debney.”
Jack’s expression was hard to read, but I could tell Brock’s ability to rattle off so many names — we’re talking half of our dead girls — was enough to make him suspicious. “You knew them. How is that?”
“They all worked here.”
I was taken aback. “That can’t be right. I saw the files. Megan Louden was a legal secretary and Jenny Fields was a student at the local culinary school. I can’t remember what the others did for a living, but I think I would remember if they all worked for you.”
“Let me rephrase that,” Brock offered. “They all volunteered here. We have a thriving volunteer community and all four women were a part of it.”
“How does that work?” Jack asked.
“We focus on conservation,” Brock explained. “We have a special program that brings in injured sea turtles. We try to rehabilitate them. If they can be released into the wild after their treatment, we do that. If they can’t, then we find a place for them here.”
“That’s all well and good,” Jack noted. “That doesn’t explain why the women were volunteering here.”
“I’m getting to that.” Brock flashed a tense smile. He seemed to be chafing under Jack’s pressure, which made me believe he was used to being in charge. “The volunteer program involves a variety of things, including ritzy parties and fundraisers.
“Most of our volunteers are genuine animal lovers,” he continued. “They want to help the animals above all else. There is a small contingent, however, who care about the glitz and glamor associated with the parties more than they do the animals.”
“Ah.” Jack nodded in understanding as I kept tossing handfuls of food for the fish. “These charity events naturally draw the wealthiest benefactors in the area. Certain individuals — including some of our victims — were more interested in those donating money than the actual cause.”
Brock cleared his throat, as if trying to remove something that was lodged there, and nodded. “I would never speak ill of the dead, but ... I was under no illusion that these women were volunteering their time because they cared about the animals. In fact, all four of them only volunteered to help with party events. They didn’t want anything to do with the facilities or the fundraisers that were geared toward the general public.”
“That’s too bad,” I noted as I added more food to the tank. I found the fish fascinating. “I would volunteer just to feed the fish every day.”
Brock chuckled. “We actually don’t have a shortage of people willing to do that. Our guests pay a premium to be able to feed the fish. The same goes for the ray tank. That one is even more of a draw.”
I straightened. “You have a ray tank?”
Jack shot me a quelling look and shook his head, making me realize that if I wanted to feed the rays it would have to be at another time. “How well did you know the women?”
“Not well,” Brock replied. “I know I’m supposed to say something about how tragic this all is — and it is — but I didn’t know them well enough to mourn them.
“When word came down that one of our volunteers died — I believe the first one we were made aware of was Freya — I had to search for a photo just to know who the others were talking about,” he continued. “Then when more began to fall ... it occurred to me there might be a tie, but the other women weren’t volunteering here.”
“That doesn’t mean they didn’t have ties to the four women volunteering for you through another group or charity,” Jack mused. “Can you tell us anything about your four volunteers? I mean ... even if it seems mundane. We’re looking for a tie that can lead us to a killer.”
Brock’s shoulders stiffened as he stood straighter. “I’m sorry but ... I didn’t think a cause of death had been released. Last time I heard, there was a dispute whether it was natural causes or perhaps a pathogen of some sort. Either way, it was considered an accident, not something intentional.”
Jack obviously realized he’d overstepped but he didn’t react in a shady way. Instead, he kept his smile in place and remained calm. “We can’t overlook any possibility. We don’t want a single other person to die.”
“No, of course not.”
“We’re simply looking for a tie between all the women. Anything you can tell us would be helpful.”
Brock nodded, rubbing his hand over his chin as he considered the request. “I don’t know that this will be helpful, but the one thing these women always talked about was a television show they were convinced they were going to get. Other volunteers and employees brought that up several times when the identities started becoming public.”
I jerked up my head, tearing my gaze from the fish. “They were getting a television show?” Somehow that hadn’t made the reports.
“No, but they were pitching the idea,” Brock explained. “I’m not sure which company, but there was talk of driving to Atlanta because that’s a big Hollywood production hub now. They actually put together something called a ‘look book.’ Supposedly you need one when pitching a television show.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Jack said dryly. “What was this show about?”
“It would’ve been a reality television show. A group of women living in Charleston, fighting with one another and living the high life while backstabbing their friends. You know ... like Southern Charm. I believe that was the basis for their show.”
Jack looked to me for help, immediately causing me to raise my hands. “Don’t look at me,” I said. “I have no idea about reality television shows like that. I love true crime documentaries and those Animal Planet shows, but otherwise I prefer watching dramatic fiction.”
“Me, too.” He dragged a hand through his hair, his expression unreadable. “I don’t suppose you know if they shared an entertainment lawyer or anything, do you?”
“I’m sorry.” Brock was legitimately apologetic. “I don’t know about the inner workings of their plan. The only thing I can tell you is that they went on regular wine tours because they thought they could meet rich men that way. That was the crux of their show pitch. They wanted to date rich men ... and ultimately find husbands. They were very vocal about their plans.”
I was flabbergasted by the thought. “That sounds ... lovely.”
Jack nodded in agreement. “Yeah, but it’s another possibility to chase. Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Wilson. We greatly appreciate it.”
“We do,” I agreed, wiping my hands on the seat of my shorts. “Feeding the fish was awesome, by the way. I totally want to come back and check out the ray tank.”
Brock’s smile was indulgent. “You’re welcome any time. Just tell the individual at the front gates that I gave you clearance and he or she will allow you in without having to pay.”
“Oh, I would totally pay to feed the rays.”
“Even better. When you have a handle on your schedule give me a call and I’ll arrange it.”
Eight
“What do you think?”
As a very food-oriented person — actually, we rolled that way as a couple — Jack insisted it was time for an early lunch after we left the aquarium. I believed he wanted to absorb the news before making a decision on our next move. Honestly, I didn’t blame him.
It was his turn to choose and he opted for a place called Fleet Landing, which someone had mentioned the previous day. It was on the water, had an outstandin
g view, and the menu gave me little chills because I was surprisingly hungry despite the amount of food I’d eaten the previous night.
“I don’t know,” Jack replied. “It’s weird. I find the whole thing weird. I’ve never been one who wanted to be on television.”
“I’m actually surprised Chris hasn’t hired a cinematographer to follow us around on cases,” I mused. “He figures it’s only a matter of time before we see something that proves his theory about the paranormal. He’ll want proof of that.”
“Bite your tongue.”
I giggled despite myself. “If he does that, it’s going to put me in a weird position.” I sobered as I considered it. “That’s going to be a big risk. If I’m ever caught doing something ... .” I purposely left it hanging. The possibility was too horrible to consider.
“Hey, we’ll handle that if it comes.” Jack leaned across the table and grabbed my hand. “I don’t know that Chris would go that route. Even though he wants to prove the existence of — well, whatever paranormal creature he can — he values his privacy.”
“Yeah, but ... it feels like something he might eventually do if he gets desperate.”
The look on Jack’s face told me he believed the same thing. He didn’t dwell on it, though. Instead he forced a smile and inclined his chin toward the menu. “The she-crab soup is supposed to be amazing.”
I had no idea what that was. “Why is it she-crab soup? Why are the men not killed for it?”
He laughed. “I don’t know. You might want to ask the waitress. I only know it has a solid reputation.”
“I do love me some crab.”
“You do.”
We lapsed into amiable silence for a few moments, both of us studying the menu. Eventually, I couldn’t stop myself from focusing on the most important tidbit we’d gleaned from the conversation with Brock. “They all knew each other.”
Slowly, he lifted his eyes until they snagged with mine. “We don’t know that yet,” he cautioned. “We know that four of them knew each other.”
[Charlie Rhodes 06.0] The Incubus Impasse Page 8
