by Dani Pettrey
While she doubted Abby would have intentionally left anything incriminating in her own cabin—anything that could show the truth of who she was—perhaps Darcy would find some clue. And if nothing else, she wanted to make sure Abby’s things remained safe, that Abby’s roommate didn’t decide they were fair game.
She knocked a second time, and the door opened. Pam leaned against the doorframe, looking no less tired than she had the morning they’d met.
“Yeah?”
If it were possible, she looked even less pleased to see Darcy than before.
“Hi.”
Pam stared at her blankly.
“I’m Darcy. We met the other night.”
“Oh, right. The journalist with all the questions.” She looped her belt across her fluffy pink robe and knotted it.
Darcy held up the peace offering. “I brought you a mocha. Thought you could use it. I’m sure you had another long night.”
Pam eyed her cautiously but took the drink. “Thanks.”
“I’m sure it’s hard working such late shifts.”
Pam shrugged and walked back into the room, leaving the door open. If that wasn’t an invitation, Darcy didn’t know what was. She darted inside before Pam could change her mind and shut the door behind her.
The room was much as it had been the other morning: Abby’s bed made, her side of the cabin neat—Pam’s half rumpled and tossed with clothes.
“What do you want?” Pam asked, lounging back on her bed and removing the lid of her drink. Steam escaped in a swirl, but Pam’s eyes lit at the generous dollop of whipped cream.
Darcy sat in the only chair that wasn’t filled with clothes and contemplated how she could claim Abby’s things without making Pam suspicious. “When I spoke to Abby my first day on board, she indicated she had some excursion notes to show me.” Actually, they were case notes, but Pam didn’t need to know that.
“Notes?” Pam took a tentative sip, whipped cream clinging to her upper lip.
“Like a travel journal of sorts.”
“To help with your assignment, your story?”
“That’s my hope.” Though, again, she doubted Abby would leave anything too incriminating in her room, amongst her personal belongings. She’d have found another place on the ship to stash her notes. Someplace where no one could tie them back to her. But with the ship being so enormous, it seemed easiest to start with her cabin and move out from there.
Besides, protecting the rest of Abby’s belongings suddenly felt important. What if Pam decided they were up for grabs? What if she started wearing Abby’s things or, worse yet, selling them off to crew members? “Mullins has been breathing down my neck to get the right feel for my stories, and I thought maybe looking through an excursion crew member’s travel journal could give me great insight.”
Pam lifted a nail file and started with her right hand. “I get what you’re saying about Mullins. She can be a real pain in the neck, but I imagine she has to be with the crew she’s got.”
“What do you mean?” Darcy’s gaze roamed over Abby’s nightstand, which was clear on top, and then to her bed—Is that a book?—before quickly shifting her attention back to Pam.
Pam set the nail file aside, taking another sip of mocha, then retrieved the file and set back to work. “How would you like to be in charge of some four hundred employees? She has to stay on top of them all. I don’t know how she keeps everyone straight.”
Mullins. Of course. Being employee liaison, she’d have access to everyone’s files, access to their personal information and employment history. Darcy grimaced. She’d clearly been out of the game too long—she should have started with Mullins.
“Toss in a high turnaround rate and snooty passengers,” Pam continued, switching the file from her right hand to her left. “I wouldn’t want her job for the world.”
“Yeah, doesn’t sound like much fun.” No wonder Mullins was stern—she probably had to be to get the job done.
“I think her only pleasure comes in firing people.” Pam blew across her nails.
“That’s sad.” Darcy stood and stepped toward Abby’s bed. The book looked like a Gideon Bible. It was highly unlikely it had anything to do with Abby—she avoided Bibles at all costs.
“That’s Mullins. Takes pleasure in people’s pain.” Pam took another sip of mocha and grabbed a red bottle of nail polish from her nightstand.
Darcy sank on the edge of Abby’s bed, hoping she wasn’t being too obvious, praying Pam wouldn’t ask her to go just yet. “I get the feeling Mullins wasn’t particularly fond of Abby.”
Pam knocked the bottle of polish against her palm, shaking it up. “That’s for sure.”
Darcy scooted forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Any idea why?”
“Things were fine before, but she seems steamed that Abby took off without notice.”
“I imagine it’s pretty hard finding replacements when you’re out at sea.”
“Yeah. You’d think.” Pam took a Q-tip and corrected a spot she’d polished onto her skin. “But Mullins has a surprising ability to find new people.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Pam resumed polishing, switching to her left hand. “None of us are sure how she does it, but when someone leaves unexpectedly, Mullins quickly reorganizes the shifts so we all pick up the slack—but fortunately for us, that never lasts long. There’s always someone new waiting in the next port or, at the very least, in time for the next cruise.”
It couldn’t be easy always finding replacements on such short notice, but she had mentioned something in the meeting about their usual provider working on finding a permanent replacement for Abby. “That’s impressive.”
“Resourceful is probably a better word for it.”
Interesting. “You seem to know exactly how stuff works around here.”
“I should.” Pam dropped the applicator brush back in the bottle of polish. “I’ve been on the Bering for five years.”
“Five years?” She looked young.
“Started when I was sixteen,” Pam said, blowing on her freshly polished nails.
“Is that even legal?” Good, Darcy, call her on the legality of her profession. That’ll help. Sheesh. Where was her head?
“It’s legal to work at sixteen. Besides, the ship is registered in the Bahamas—totally different set of rules.”
“Why is an Alaskan cruise line registered in the Bahamas?”
“Because that’s where the cruise line originated.” Pam carefully retrieved her mocha, holding it so as not to mess up her polish job. She took a sip and then continued, “Destiny still has ships in the Bahamas. It’s only been running the Bering in Alaska for the past five years.”
“Interesting combination—Bahamas and Alaska.”
“The ships go where there’s an interest in cruising.”
“Right.” The perfect setup for smuggling between the U.S. and foreign markets. She’d read about drug busts on Caribbean ships. Was it possible someone had decided to work the same scheme between Alaska and Russia? But what had scared Abby so? They’d investigated drug runners before.
Pam stood. “Thanks for the drink, but I better get ready for my shift.”
“Oh. Sure.” Darcy got to her feet. “I’ll just look through Abby’s things for that journal and be on my way.”
“Ain’t going to happen.”
But she’d thought they’d been making so much progress. “Why’s that?”
Pam moved to the closet, gingerly fingering through her garments, careful not to get any polish on them. “Her stuff isn’t here.”
“Not here? What happened to it?”
“It was collected after she left the ship.”
“Collected? By whom?”
“Mullins.”
Mullins. There was no doubt about the next person she needed to speak with.
“Oh, okay.” Darcy took a deep breath and made a show of looking around the room. She ended by picking up the Bible from Abby�
�s bed. “What about this?”
“Don’t know. It’s been there since Abby left, but I don’t know why she would have taken it out of the drawer. We didn’t see each other very often—because of our schedules and all that—but I never saw her reading it.”
It must have been underneath Abby’s purse when Darcy grabbed it that first morning—that might make it significant. “Hmm, I’ve always wondered about these.” She opened the Bible and flipped through the pages. No obvious clue struck her, but maybe a closer examination would reveal a message from Abby.
She held up the Bible. “Mind if I take this with me?”
Pam was still focused on drying her nails. “Sure, nobody ever reads those goofy things, anyway.”
Darcy tucked it in her purse and thanked Pam for her time. As she left the room, she was tempted to stop to more carefully search the Bible, but she decided the search for clues was better accomplished in the privacy of her cabin—or maybe she would stop by Gage’s room.
More than likely the Gideon Bible would come to nothing, but with a lighter heart than she’d felt in days, she headed for the elevator. Rounding a corner she heard a rustle and turned to—
28
Gage rushed to the ship’s clinic the second word of Darcy’s accident reached him.
Please let her be okay.
Thankfully, Whitney had sought him out after witnessing Darcy being wheeled past her in the hall on a gurney.
He reached the clinic and Clint caught him by the arm. “Whoa, there. Doc’s still examining her.”
Gage glared at Clint’s hand on his arm, and Clint released his hold.
“What happened?”
“Don’t know. One of the maids heard a sound out in the hall, went to investigate, and found Darcy blacked out. She called the clinic.”
“Blacked out?”
“That’s what I was told. I was late to the party.”
Gage arched his brows at Clint’s choice of words.
Clint lifted his hands. “Hey, man, I didn’t mean anything by it, just saying I wasn’t there.”
“Who was?”
“Other than the maid that found her? No one that I’m aware of.”
The ship’s resident doc stepped from the exam room. He had a southern gentleman’s gait to his walk.
Gage rushed to him. “Is she okay?”
“She took a pretty hard knock to the back of the head when she fell, but otherwise, she’s right as rain.”
“Fell?” Gage said.
“Can’t remember much. Says everything just went black. Probably low blood sugar or a dizzy spell. It happens.”
Gage wasn’t buying it. “Can I see her?”
“Sure.” The doctor gestured toward the exam room.
Gage knocked on the door, more anxious to see her than he’d been to see anybody in a very long time.
“Come in.” At least her voice sounded strong.
He cracked the door and peered in.
Darcy stood at the foot of the exam table, rubbing her head.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Just feel a bit woozy.”
Gage stepped fully inside and closed the door behind him, catching a fleeting glimpse of Clint’s arm wrapped around Doc Greene’s shoulder as the two conversed. Odd.
Darcy took a wobbly step forward.
“Whoa.” He lunged to her side, supporting her. “Why don’t you sit back down for a moment?”
She nodded, then winced, clearly regretting the motion.
He helped ease her up on the exam table, the white paper rustling beneath her.
Gently sweeping the hair from her brow, he studied her beautiful face, concern and protectiveness welling inside. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
Her breathless vulnerability nearly broke his heart. He never wanted her to feel scared or alone again. Whatever he had to do to make her feel loved and protected, he yearned to do. The rush of emotion, of love crashing through him nearly knocked the breath from his lungs. Where had that come from? Better yet, when had he fallen so desperately in love with Darcy St. James?
He scrambled for words, for sanity, for anything solid to grasp onto.
Her case. Focus on her case. “Can you remember anything before you blacked out? What was the last thing you did?”
“I was talking with Pam.”
“Pam?”
“Abby’s roommate.”
“Okay. Do you remember what you were talking about?”
“Yeah.” She explained finding Celia wearing Abby’s necklace, confronting Ted about it, talking to Pam and learning Mullins had collected Abby’s belongings. “So nothing of hers was there. But”—she patted her purse—“I grabbed a Gideon Bible I found on her bed. And then I left. . . .”
“Okay . . . so then you were heading . . . ?”
“I headed for the elevator and . . .”
“And?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I heard something.”
“Describe something.”
“I don’t know. Just a noise behind me, then everything went black.”
“Can I take a look at your head? The doc said you took a pretty good knock.” Working SAR, he and his family were all first-responder trained.
“Sure.”
With great care and tenderness, he spread his fingers through her hair, gently feeling the lump on the backside of her head. “It’s definitely swollen. The doc thinks you got the knock when you fell.” He brought his hands to his side.
“But you don’t?”
He sighed. “I don’t know. What do you think? Any chance the sound you heard was someone conking you over the head?”
“It could have been, but if it was, then it means someone knows I’m not exactly who I say I am.”
“Or they aren’t happy with the questions you’re asking.”
Darcy led Gage back to the corridor where her accident had occurred. She began at Pam’s door and walked toward the elevator.
“I was about here.” She paused in front of the maintenance closet.
Gage opened the door and glanced inside.
Darcy peered in behind him at the mops and brooms lining the near wall.
“Plenty of things to hit someone over the head with,” Gage remarked.
They stepped back into the corridor.
“The only other explanation is you hit the back of your head on this”—Gage grasped the wall rail—“on your way down. Were you feeling dizzy?”
“No. I was fine.”
“And now?”
“I’ve got a killer headache, but the doc gave me some ibuprofen, so hopefully it’ll settle soon.”
“Did he test you for a concussion?”
“Yes. No blurred vision, no sensitivity to light, no nausea or dilated pupils.”
“Good, but just for precaution, I want you sticking by my side today.”
She didn’t argue. Being by Gage’s side was never something to complain about, but if someone really was on to her, she’d feel a ton better having someone she trusted with her.
Darcy tapped on the doorframe of Mullins’ office, glancing back at Gage seated on the sofa in the reception area. He smiled and she turned her attention back to the task at hand.
Mullins glanced up from her computer, irritation on her ruddy complexion.
“Don’t tell me. Another problem?”
“No.” Darcy stepped into the woman’s office, noting the distinct temperature drop. Mullins liked a cool work environment.
“I heard about your accident.”
Word traveled fast.
Mullins shuffled papers. “You really ought to be more careful.”
“Right.” What had she heard, exactly? “Who knew halls could be so dangerous.” She smiled, trying to ease Mullins’ tension.
“Are you suggesting your fall was the cruise line’s fault?”
“No. Not at all.” This was not a good start. She needed something from Mullins, which meant any inference of Destiny
’s fault in her accident would only put the woman on the defensive. Besides, it wasn’t a puddle on the floor or a cord she’d tripped over that had caused her fall. If anything, someone had hit her over the head, but suggesting that possibility would only draw more attention to the fact she was digging for answers on Abby’s disappearance. “Actually I was hoping you could help me with something.”
Mullins arched a brow.
“Ms. Walsh . . . ” Darcy was determined to avoid the perception of a personal tie to Abby, though she’d failed horribly by pressing about Abby’s whereabouts in such a persistent manner her first day on board. Which was precisely why reporters never worked an undercover case with personal ties. It compromised one’s ability to investigate without bias.
Mullins cleared her throat. “Are you going to continue your sentence, or is that the extent of your request?”
Darcy smiled. So not a fan of this woman. “The morning I boarded the Bering, Ms. Walsh indicated that she had kept a travel journal of her experience on the excursions and offered to let me read it—as a resource for my articles. I asked her roommate about it, and she said you’d collected her things.”
Mullins rolled back from her computer with a huff. Propping her elbows on her chair arms, she steepled her fingers. “When an employee leaves without taking their belongings, we remove them from their cabin. It’s standard protocol.”
“Do employees do that often?”
“Do what?”
“Leave suddenly without taking their things?”
Mullins sighed. “You’d be surprised. Some people are so eager to abandon their commitments, they will leave everything behind.”
Hmm. This could be her chance to get into Mullins’ good graces. “That’s terrible.”
“Don’t take a job if you aren’t willing to stick with it—that’s what I always say.”
Darcy sank into the chair facing Mullins’ desk, wondering just how many employees had been reamed out while sitting in it. “Perfectly reasonable.”
Mullins eyed her like a hawk eyeing a mouse. “Was there something you wanted?”
