by Dani Pettrey
“Why not?” Piper frowned.
“Because the Bering is registered through the Bahamas and sails under their flag.”
Kayden’s brows arched.
Jake shrugged. “I did a little investigating of my own while you all were . . . busy.”
She cringed. He meant while they were all talking about him.
“So what does the country a ship is registered in have to do with the FBI being of help?” Piper asked.
“It makes things complicated. Since Abby is a U.S. citizen and she went missing on U.S. soil—supposedly in Kodiak—the FBI has jurisdiction, but as far as the Bering’s involvement . . .” He raked a hand through his hair. “It sounds like the evidence indicates Abby was last seen leaving Kodiak Hospital, which has nothing to do with the ship.”
Kayden shifted her gaze to Piper. “Did you and Landon learn anything yesterday?”
“Yeah, and it’s not good.” She went on to explain how Landon had set her up at the police station while he and Cole got to work on the crime scene. With Deputy Travis McCormick’s help, she’d done quite a bit of digging on the Bering and missing women. Piper surveyed the street and pointed toward a restaurant. “How about we get out of the rain and discuss this over breakfast?”
It seemed everyone else had the same notion—the Dutch Harbor Ferry Station Café was packed to near capacity. Kayden wondered if the rain would let up before the Bering started off-loading passengers for the day. At least they’d have time to fill up on a warm, hearty breakfast before heading out on excursion.
“So what did you learn?” she asked as the three crowded into a small booth.
Piper took a sip of her freshly poured coffee before answering. “It looks like roughly twenty people—mostly women—have gone missing off cruises in the last year.”
“From the Bering?” Jake asked, nearly choking on his coffee in the process.
“No. Worldwide. But . . . counting the Bowens and Darcy’s friend, four have gone missing off the Bering.”
“Who’s the fourth?” Jake asked.
“A gal by the name of Jessica Matthews.” Piper slid the missing-person flyer she’d pulled from the computer across the table to Jake. “Parents said good night to her out on their private balcony where she was reading. In the morning, the book was there and their daughter was gone.”
“Let me guess . . .” Jake sat back. “The cruise line insisted she must have fallen overboard during the night?”
“Yeah.” Piper’s brows pinched together. “How’d you know?”
“That’s always the excuse.”
Kayden shifted to face him. “What do you mean always? This has happened before?”
“Unfortunately, yes. We didn’t work a lot of cruise cases in Boston, of course. The only cruises you have in that area are the New England fall tours, but we had a couple of women from Boston go missing off cruises and, in both cases, falling off their balconies during the night was the official party line. Their parents came to us when they got back home, asking for us to investigate, but there was little we or the FBI could do. There was no evidence to suggest foul play other than the vanishings themselves.”
Kayden shook her head. “That’s insane.”
“But sadly, true.”
“What do you think really happened?” she asked.
Piper gaped at her.
Yes, she’d just asked Jake’s opinion on something, genuinely asked. It would help if her sister would stop staring. “What?”
Piper shook her head, reaching for a sugar packet. “Nothing.”
She turned back to Jake. “So, what do you think?”
He cleared his throat. “I . . . I think at least some of the women are being trafficked.”
Piper’s brown eyes widened with horror. “Trafficked? As in . . . ?”
“The sex-slave trade,” Jake said, sorrow heavy in his voice.
Piper leaned forward, her expression aghast. “Why hasn’t anyone dug deeper? How can the cruise ships just get away with something like that? Do you think that’s what’s happening on the Bering?”
Jake took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “If I were a betting man . . .”
“But three women over the course of a year hardly seems like a serious trafficking network,” Kayden said.
“Kayden! It doesn’t matter if it’s only one. It’s still horrid,” Piper said.
“I’m not disagreeing. I’m simply saying it seems unlikely that three women a year are enough to sustain a human trafficking network.”
“She’s right,” Jake said, lifting his mug. “There’s got to be more to it.”
Darcy followed Gage down the gangplank, relieved to find the rain had finally stopped, but even more relieved that she’d be riding in the transport boat. Mullins had taken Gage’s suggestion, and Darcy was more than pleased to avoid climbing into another kayak. Unfortunately, Ted would be piloting the boat, and she was growing less and less keen on the guy every day.
Seeing the McKennas clustered at the end of the pier, she moved toward them, zeroing in on Piper. “I’ve got a favor to ask you.”
“Anything.” Piper smiled.
“Can you call Landon before we head out?” She explained about Abby’s belongings supposedly being shipped from Eagle Cove.
“Sure. I’ll tell him to head over to the ferry station when he gets a chance. I think the mail only runs on the ferry on Fridays, so we still have a chance. Maybe we’ll luck out and her things will still be there.”
“Awesome, thanks.”
Piper rubbed Darcy’s arm. “How you holding up?”
“Okay.”
“I see Gage has you on the supply boat today.”
“Yes.” She smiled.
“Have you learned anything new?”
“Quite a bit.”
“Landon and I did as well. We’ll have to catch up tonight at the campground.”
Darcy nodded as Ted stepped to her side. “Ready?”
“Yep. Let’s do this.”
Ted helped her into the boat and steered out of the marina, the cold spray of the sea sprinkling Darcy’s face as he increased his speed.
Apparently he was in a hurry. Probably about as thrilled as she was at the prospect of being stuck together for the better part of the day.
“After your kayak incident, I figured you wouldn’t be too eager to get back in the water,” Ted said, glancing back from the helm.
He had that right.
He shook his head. “Crazy, finding a body like that.”
Crazy was one word for it.
“Gets a person thinking, though.” He gazed out across the water.
“About?”
“How many bodies the sea must be hiding. I bet the oceans are littered with them.”
She glanced at the dark blue water, the crystalline surface like glass in the distance, the churning, frothy waves surrounding their craft. “What a horrid thought.”
Ted shrugged with an odd smile. “Just saying . . .”
Great. Now she had even more reason to dislike the sea. She’d lost one dear friend to it; she just prayed she hadn’t lost another.
Ted remained silent the rest of the ride, leaving her to her troubled thoughts.
Please, Lord, take this anxiety from me. Lift this burden from my chest. You are in control. Help me to remember it.
She’d spent the last five days thinking she was the only one who could save Abby, and though God may have very well placed her in this position to help, she had to remember He was in control.
Remind me of your unfailing love, of your provision. Remind me that you are greater than the seas threatening to swallow me.
A couple hours later, they reached the uninhabited island where they’d be spending the night. The rest of the team would be hours behind. Darcy climbed from the boat. Super. Just her and Ted, on their own for hours.
She unloaded the food supplies while Ted began setting up camp. At least, on the bright side, everything would
be in place when the rest of the team arrived, which meant more time sitting around the campfire catching up with Jake and Piper. She was dying to know what they’d learned and couldn’t wait to share what she had—including the fact that Ted gave her the creeps.
32
Five tense hours later, the first blue tip of a kayak came into view. Darcy approached Gage the minute he pulled his craft onto shore. He glanced up the slope at Ted whittling wood. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” She rubbed her arms. “The guy totally creeps me out.” Like with that bizarre ocean comment. “But he kept pretty much to himself. How did kayaking go?”
“Awesome,” Heath said, striding past her up to camp. “Hope you got the grub ready. I’m starving.”
“Isn’t he just charming,” his fiancée, Amber, snorted, following Heath up toward the picnic tables and campfire.
“Wow. They’re a cheery couple,” Darcy said.
Gage lifted his pack from his kayak and slung it over his shoulder. “Maybe they deserve each other.” He smirked.
Darcy stared at the fish before her. Actual fish. Packed on ice in all their natural glory, transported from the Bering in a cooler.
Since Phillip would no longer be part of the excursions, Mullins had efficiently split up the task of cooking among the remaining excursion crew, including her. Tonight’s dinner was her assignment. Mullins thought it would be a great addition to her coverage and instructed Darcy to not only blog about it when she returned to the Bering but to make sure plenty of pictures were taken.
When she’d learned the main course was salmon steaks, Darcy hadn’t flinched—she grilled fish all the time. But the fish piled in the cooler were nothing like the prepared cuts of fresh fish she picked up in the seafood department of her local grocery store.
No, what sat in front of her were five huge salmon—scales still in place, heads still on, eyeballs staring up at her. What on earth was she going to do with them?
After several attempts to grasp the slippery, slimy beasts, she decided she would have to sacrifice her gloves. Maybe she could clean them enough to be of use later, but right now she needed to get those fish prepared.
After donning her gloves, she pulled the first fish out by the tail.
“Darcy!”
She looked up in time for Gage to snap what had to be a charming shot of her and her first salmon victim. He was going to enjoy his meal-prep-photographer role way too well.
With a grimace she laid the fish on the tray she’d placed on the picnic table and grabbed a knife. First, chop off the head. That way he couldn’t keep staring up at her. Taking a deep breath—and conscious of avoiding any photo-worthy grimaces—she lifted the knife and chopped down in an axlike movement, whacking the head clean off. She screamed as it shot from the tray, and Gage ducked to avoid being hit by it as he snapped another picture.
“Easy there. The task is to fillet them, not butcher them.”
“I’ve never worked with whole fish before.”
“That’s obvious.”
“Okay, I think we have enough pictures.” She reached out to take the camera, and he stepped back, grimacing at her slimy gloves.
“Ahh, I’ll just leave it here.” He placed it on the table. “I need to help get the crew tents set up anyway.” After a few steps he turned with a smirk. “If you need any help, just give us a yell.”
Tempted to retrieve the fish head and do her best to throw it at his retreating back, she instead returned her attention to the beheaded fish before her. Her stomach surged slightly at the smell.
“Would you like some help?”
She flinched and turned to find Clint leaning against a tree.
“That would be great. Thanks so much.” Stepping back, she let Clint have the workspace. She peeled off the nasty gloves and tossed them aside, then moved around to sit on the opposite side of the picnic table.
Clint worked with precision—cutting the fish into perfect grilling-size portions.
“Wow! You’ve got some mad knife skills.”
“The combo of spending a lot of time in the wilderness and medic training.”
Here was her opening. “Speaking of being a medic . . .”
He gave her a sideways glance. “Why do I feel another interrogation coming on?”
She smiled. “Any chance you could find out who was part of the rescue crew the night Abby went overboard?” He’d been told by a fellow crew member that it had been Abby who went overboard, so surely that person had some firsthand knowledge. It stood to reason that either they were part of the crew or had spoken to someone who had been.
Clint finished the last fish and set the tray of salmon, ready for grilling, in front of her. “I think you can handle it from here. I’ll dump the remains off the shore. It’ll give the waterfowl some good eating tonight.”
“And my request?”
“Explain why you want to know and I’ll consider it.”
She swallowed. How much should she say? How much could she really trust Clint? “I don’t understand why it’s such a big secret. You’d think those who were part of the rescue crew would be happy for people to know they’re heroes.”
“Heroes?” Clint lifted the bag of fish waste.
“They rescued a woman from drowning.”
“I suppose that does make them heroes.”
“So why all the secrecy?”
“It’s not a secret. It’s just not public knowledge.”
“Because?”
He shrugged. “Protocol.”
“What protocol?”
“You don’t have a clue about how the cruise-ship world works, do you?”
“Cruise-ship world?”
“It’s its own entity.”
“How so?” He had her curious.
“Out on the open water, the ship is its own city, its own world.”
“How do you figure that?” The Bering consisted primarily of U.S. crew and passengers. The ship was a means of vocation and vacation, not an escape to another world.
“It’s self-sustaining, set apart, and operates under its own set of rules and agendas.”
“Such as?”
“Protocol takes priority. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some waste to get rid of.”
“What was that all about?” Gage asked, striding up.
“I don’t know. I asked him if he could find out who was part of the rescue crew the night Abby went overboard, and he gave me some weird lecture about a ship’s autonomy and the most important rule being protocol.”
“Okay . . . so was that his way of saying no?”
“I don’t know. The entire conversation was strange. Sometimes I think he’s just struggling with it.”
“With what?” Gage picked up a carrot stick and popped it in his mouth.
“Wanting to be helpful but wanting to protect his ship, his livelihood, by strict adherence to protocol as he’s been taught.”
“Well, you’ve clearly got him wavering.”
“You think?”
“I see the way he looks at you.”
“Oh, really, and how is that?”
“Like he wants you for himself.”
The thought sent a shiver up her spine—and not the good kind.
33
After cleaning up from the meal, Darcy wasted no time in sidling up to Kayden and Jake around the campfire. She’d been trying to talk to them alone ever since their kayaks pulled up to shore, but until then the opportunity hadn’t presented itself. Everyone was content on a full stomach and all were preoccupied with their own conversations spread out about the camp.
A full moon hung in the sky, illuminating the treetops. A strong wind rustled through the upper limbs, but they were sheltered by the strategic camp layout, nestled among the backdrop of trees.
Darcy wrapped her hands around the warm cup of cider. Her gloves—washed and rinsed with fresh water and sprayed with sanitizer—lay on a nearby rock. She hoped the fire would dry them before they had
to put it out for the night.
Jake relayed what Piper had learned while in Eagle Cove and explained what he was afraid was happening. Fear gripped Darcy as the words flowed from his lips. Sex trafficking. She’d never even considered that possibility, though it would explain Abby’s fear.
The thought of Abby, of any woman, being subjected to such horrific slavery twisted her stomach in knots. She was in way over her head. This was something for the police—not a single reporter who had been out of the undercover game for nearly three years.
But Jake had already explained that local cops had no jurisdiction on a cruise ship registered and sailing under a foreign flag. And clearly, the Bering’s poor excuse for a security force wasn’t going to be of any help. Just as Clint had said only a few short hours ago—the cruise ship was its own world and operated under its own set of rules.
You’d think they’d want to get criminals off their ship, but it seemed that protecting their family-friendly image was what mattered most to them—not protecting innocent lives. It prodded Darcy all the more to push forward, to bring whoever was responsible for these women’s disappearances to justice.
She shifted, her mind scrambling to wrap around the depth of evil they were facing. “What are we going to do?”
The whir of a plane’s engine circled overhead.
“Floatplane,” Kayden said without bothering to look up.
“Who’d be flying into here?” she asked. Maybe it was a drop shipment. She scanned the crowd. All the women were accounted for. Was it drugs? Was it someone completely unrelated to their excursion landing to camp for the night?
“I’ll check it out.” Jake stood, and from across the camp Gage followed, the two disappearing into the woods.
Clint walked over from where he’d been checking the kayaks to join Kayden and Darcy at the fire. “Wonder who that is.”
“Does that happen often?” Darcy asked.
“A floatplane landing during one of our excursions?”
She nodded.
“A time or two, but it’s rather dangerous to be landing at night without any lights—other than the moon.”
