Wicked Ghostly Seas: A Rowan Gray, Harper Harlow and Ivy Morgan Mystery Omnibus

by Lily Harper Hart

  “Definitely not. Well, I should probably get back to work.” He sighed as he stood. “The iced tea is on the house. Take a breather from the sun and then get back to your ghost hunt.”

  Harper froze, the glass halfway to her lips. “How did you know?”

  Demarcus’s smile was mischievous. “I’ve been watching you all morning. It’s obvious you’re searching for something specific ... or someone specific. Since you’re a ghost hunter, I assume that means you’re looking for a ghost.”

  Harper turned sheepish. “I saw Tasha Vale’s ghost yesterday,” she admitted. “I know she’s around here somewhere. She’s not on the deck, though, and I don’t know where to look.”

  “Maybe check by her room.”

  “And how am I supposed to know where that is?”

  Demarcus snickered. “You ask someone with access to a computer to look for you.”

  Harper brightened considerably. “I don’t suppose you have access to a computer, do you?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  DEMARCUS’S TIP HELPED Harper immensely, and the second she turned the corner and spied Tasha’s room, the ghost floated into view.

  She looked lost, the heavy eye makeup from the night she died smudged under her eyes. It was clear to Harper that the woman didn’t yet understand she could change her appearance. Since Harper was hopeful she would be able to help the ghost move on — she even packed a dreamcatcher in the zippered pocket of the suitcase just in case, although Jared wasn’t aware — she didn’t think dwelling on nonessential issues was important.

  “Hey.”

  Tasha blinked several times in rapid succession, a mannerism left over from when she was alive. “Are you talking to me?”

  Harper swallowed a chuckle at the woman’s inadvertent Taxi Driver imitation. “You don’t see anyone else around, do you?”

  “No, but no one has talked to me all day. In fact ... I think it’s been two days.” She screwed up her face in concentration. “Yeah, I definitely think it’s been two days.”

  “I think it’s been more like thirty-two hours or so, but it doesn’t matter.” Harper forced a smile before licking her lips and staring up and down the hallway. Her ability wasn’t exactly a secret (not even a little one) but talking to Tasha in the middle of the hallway wasn’t without risk. Some people would assume she was talking to herself, which was fine. Others might realize what she was doing and make a scene. That’s what she worried about now.

  “How about we go to the stairwell,” she suggested, pointing toward the illuminated sign about thirty feet away. “We need to talk.”

  Tasha balked. “Why can’t we talk here?”

  “Because I’m the only one who can see you. Er, well, I think I’m the only one who can see you. On this particular cruise, it really is hard to tell. I would prefer being able to converse without people watching us.”

  “But ... you could be a creeper,” Tasha argued, her eyes filling with fire. “You could be one of those weirdos who thinks you can see and talk to ghosts. I don’t want to hang around a weirdo.”

  Harper managed to remain calm, although it took some work. “Yes, but you’re a ghost. If I wasn’t one of those weirdos, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You would still be standing here, by yourself, with no one acknowledging your presence.”

  Tasha turned huffy. “Excuse me, I most certainly am not dead.”

  “But ... you are.”

  “I think I would know if I was dead.” Her expression was so dour Harper would’ve found it comical under different circumstances. “I’m definitely not dead.”

  “You are.” Harper had spoken to enough ghosts that she knew coddling them wasn’t the answer. Tasha was hardly the first ghost to refuse to see the obvious. “You died on the deck two nights ago. It was after you spent the evening talking to my friend Zander.”

  “Zander.” She furrowed her brow. “You’re Zander’s friend? I’m assuming you’re the one who had your head turned by a detective who isn’t even remotely as attractive as Zander. That would make you ... Harper.”

  Harper bobbed her head. “Yes. Harper Harlow.”

  “And you really think I’m a ghost?”

  “I know you’re a ghost.”

  Instead of continuing to deny her plight, Tasha heaved out a sigh. “I guess that explains a few things.” She started moving toward the stairwell door Harper indicated moments before. “I can’t believe I’m dead. This just ... sucks.”

  Harper couldn’t argue with that. Since she could hear voices growing louder, she opted not to say a word until they were squirreled away in the stairwell. Tasha waited for her to open the door, which was completely unnecessary, and then they crowded into the sparsely-lit space together.

  “Well, this is picturesque,” Tasha said, making a face. “I can’t believe I’m in here instead of enjoying my vacation. Do you know how long I had to save up for this vacation? It was ... forever.”

  “I know the feeling,” Harper said quietly, searching for the right words. “I had to save up for this vacation, too. Zander and I planned it out more than a year ago.”

  “And then you ruined everything by bringing your boyfriend,” Tasha noted. “That wasn’t very nice of you, by the way. You shouldn’t hurt your best friend like that.”

  Harper balked. “I did not hurt him. I brought Jared so we could spend some time together. He needed a break, too. It’s not as if I planned to hurt Zander.”

  “You did make him a third wheel, though.”

  “I ... .” Harper trailed off. Technically, that was true. It was annoying, but it was also true. “Let’s talk about something else.” She plastered a serene smile on her face. “I need you to tell me what you remember about the night you died.”

  “I’m still not convinced I’m really dead.”

  “Oh, you’re dead.”

  “I’m not, though.” Tasha was firm. “I’ve been doing some hard thinking about it — you know, since you told me you thought I was dead a few minutes ago in the hallway — and I’ve decided it’s not true.”

  “Then how do you explain the fact that no one can see you?”

  “I think it’s some elaborate hoax that someone dreamed up — maybe Zan the Man because he’s such a card — and I’m being filmed for a reality television show or something. Um ... yeah. That’s exactly what’s happening.”

  “No, it’s not.” To prove her point, Harper poked Tasha’s shoulder. Instead of contacting flesh and bone, her finger moved through the woman’s ethereal countenance. “See. You’re dead. This isn’t a hoax.”

  Tasha openly gaped at the phenomenon. “I ... you ... that ... .”

  “I’m sorry.” Harper managed to rein in her temper. The woman didn’t mean to be obnoxious. She simply couldn’t help herself. This was a trying time for her, and Harper had to remind herself to be calm for the ghost’s benefit. “You’re dead and we need to figure out who killed you.”

  “No. I’m not dead.”

  “You are.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are, too.”

  “I am not.”

  “I just ... you are, too!” Harper exploded, anger getting the better of her.

  At the exact moment she yelled at the ghost, the door popped open and Rowan’s face filled the open frame. The auburn-haired photographer looked mildly confused and entirely intrigued.

  “And what’s going on in here?”

  “Well, crap,” Harper muttered, shaking her head. “I should’ve seen this coming.”

  Twelve

  Harper wanted to crawl into a hole. Even though Rowan’s expression reflected curiosity rather than recrimination, the intrepid ghost hunter found herself at a loss for words for the first time in ... well, a really long time.

  “How’s it going?” Harper asked blandly, doing her best to act calm and collected. “Great day, huh?”

  “It’s a lovely day,” Rowan agreed as she scanned the stairwell for signs that Harper wasn
’t alone. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m ... communicating with the dead.” Harper worked through a plan in her head. Granted, it probably wasn’t the best plan, but she wasn’t great under pressure. “I’m flexing my abilities. I need a quiet spot to do it.”

  “You’re communicating with the dead, huh?”

  Harper nodded without hesitation. “Yes. The dead are always around us.” She held out her hands for emphasis.

  “Well, that sounds fascinating.” Rowan planted her hands on her hips. “I thought maybe you were talking to Tasha Vale.”

  “Huh?” Harper tripped over her own tongue. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re a ghost hunter.”

  “I am.”

  “Tasha Vale died in close proximity to your friend the other night.”

  “She did.”

  “You were just in the tiki bar and Demarcus told you where Tasha’s room was located,” Rowan added.

  “I ... he told you that?” Harper was officially annoyed. “Well, that’s just a bunch of crap. He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. I was being covert. He should’ve realized that.”

  Rowan chuckled. “I don’t think you have to worry about Demarcus spreading your secret around, although he is impressed with your episode of that show you were on. He wanted to tell me all about it, but I begged off because I was more interested in finding you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to know if the ghost has any interesting information.”

  “So ... you simply believe that I can see ghosts?” Harper was understandably dubious. “No offense, but most people tend to believe I’m a crackpot.”

  “I don’t think that about you. I told you last night that I was a believer.”

  “I assumed you were only saying that to irritate Quinn,” Harper admitted. “He’s definitely not a believer. I say things to irritate Jared all the time. It keeps the fires burning, if you know what I mean. Wait ... that might’ve come out wrong.”

  Rowan chuckled, absolutely delighted with Harper’s flustered reaction. “Occasionally I’ve been known to say things for the sole reason of irritating Quinn. I agree about keeping the fires burning. In this particular case, though, that’s not what this is about.”

  “Oh, no? What is this about?”

  “I believe you.”

  “And?”

  “And I want to know if Tasha has any information to lead us in the right direction,” Rowan replied. “Believe it or not, I’m invested in the outcome of this particular situation.”

  “Why?”

  “Because ... because you’re not the only one with a secret.”

  “I’m not?” Instead of being suspicious, Harper turned on a dime and found herself intrigued. “What’s your secret?”

  “I think it’s better if we take this conversation to your room,” Rowan suggested. “I don’t want to risk someone interrupting us. You can bring Tasha. She’s welcome for the conversation, too.”

  “Oh, she disappeared the second you showed up.” Harper offered up a dismissive wave. “She doesn’t believe she’s dead.”

  Rowan drew her eyebrows together. “Is that normal?”

  “Sadly, it’s very normal.”

  “Will she come back?”

  “Yes, but probably not here.”

  “Okay, well, let’s go to your room. We need to talk.”

  “I’m looking forward to it ... kind of.”

  HARPER FOUND HER NERVES had dissipated by the time she reached her room. She fobbed her way in, exhaled a sigh of relief when she noted the maids had already been around, and directed Rowan toward the small table at the side of the room.

  “Sorry. There’s not a lot of places to get comfortable in here.”

  “That’s okay.” Rowan was used to the size of the rooms. “This is exactly what my room looks like.”

  Harper grabbed two bottles of water from the small mini-refrigerator and frowned. “Wait ... you live in a room this small all the time? That can’t be easy.”

  Rowan shrugged, noncommittal. “I don’t really think about it,” she admitted. “I was worried I would feel claustrophobic when I first arrived ... and then I found out I actually had a better room than most of the workers here, which is completely sad to think about. I don’t spend a lot of time in my room, though.”

  “What about Quinn?” Harper found she was unnaturally interested in life on a cruise ship, although she had no idea why. The conversation allowed her to settle before they delved into deeper issues, though, and she was thankful for it.

  “He’s used to the room size, too.”

  “I mean ... do you guys live together?”

  “Oh.” Rowan chuckled. “Um, not technically. We need two rooms to keep all our stuff. We basically sleep in my room every night, though. That’s mostly because my equipment is cumbersome and it’s easier to stick close to it.”

  “Right.” Harper flicked her eyes to the camera resting on the table. “You said you had a secret.”

  “Wow, you’re getting right to the heart of matters, huh?” Rowan cracked open her bottle of water and took a swig before closing it and grabbing her camera. “I’m going to show you something. I’m hoping you can keep it to yourself.”

  “Okay.” Harper waited as Rowan searched the photos through the view screen on the back of the device. When Rowan finally handed it over, Harper wasn’t sure what she was looking at. “Photos of the guests? That’s your secret? Um, no offense, but you’re the ship’s photographer. I assumed you were taking photos of the guests.”

  Rowan’s giggle was nervous and high-pitched. “No. That’s not it. Um ... you see that symbol there.” She pointed toward the omen, which was clearly visible to her, and waited until Harper’s eyes adjusted. “Do you see it?”

  Harper nodded. “Yeah. It looks like a weird shadow.”

  “That’s what I thought when I first saw it,” Rowan admitted. “I was a kid then, and I had no idea what it meant. I thought maybe it was the camera, but it wasn’t. I didn’t think anything of that first omen until the person in the photo died. Then, even when it happened again, I didn’t get it.

  “It took me a bit of time to realize what was happening,” she continued, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead as she debated how to tell the story. She’d told her tale before, but she was careful about guarding her secret, so she wasn’t exactly a pro when it came to spilling secrets. “That symbol is a death omen. It appears in photographs from time to time, as like a warning for me so I can try to stop whatever is about to happen.”

  Harper’s mouth dropped open. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That is so ... cool.”

  That wasn’t the reaction Rowan was expecting. “Um ... what?”

  “It’s cool,” Harper repeated, staring hard at the photograph. “How does it work? Do you go up to the person in the photo and tell them they’re going to die? Wait ... that can’t possibly be how you do it. People would think you’re strange ... or a murderer.”

  Rowan barked out a hoarse laugh, relieved Harper grasped the issues without continuous explanation.

  “I tried doing that a couple of times when I was a teenager,” she admitted, dragging a restless hand through her hair. Despite Harper’s open nature, Rowan found she was nervous. “It didn’t go over well. Once I warned the police and then, when the individual died, I was a suspect. Thankfully they got over that quickly but ... it wasn’t a smart move on my part.”

  “And why can you do it?” Harper asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is it genetic? Perhaps something handed down from your parents or another family member.”

  “Is your gift genetic?” Rowan was legitimately curious.

  Harper nodded. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but my grandfather could do it. This is the grandfather I told you about, the one who died and visited me before my parents got the call. He recognized the signs in me. He intended on helping me
with it, but that never happened. He died too soon.”

  “Oh, that’s awful.” Rowan meant it. “You were alone.”

  “Not really. I had Zander. I told him when we were little and he believed me right away. That helped a lot. I’m an only child, so he’s like a brother and best friend all wrapped up in a pretty package.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “They were ... less help. It’s okay, though. My parents are a little nutty. I know that sounds weird coming from a woman who can see and talk to ghosts, but it’s totally true. I can’t keep up with the nutty things my parents do. What about your parents?”

  Rowan exhaled heavily. “My mother died when I was younger. She had cancer.”

  “That’s awful. I’m so sorry. You can have my mother, if you want.”

  A ghost of a smile flitted across Rowan’s lips. “I’ll let you keep her. Either way, I didn’t realize I could do anything until my father bought me my first camera. He was trying to bolster my spirits after my mother died and, well, the rest is sort of history.”

  “Did your father believe you when you told him?”

  “Um, for the most part. The first couple times he thought it was a coincidence. I mean ... who wouldn’t, right? He came around pretty quickly.”

  “At least you had him.”

  “Yeah, until he disappeared when I was eighteen.” Rowan turned momentarily bitter.

  “He disappeared?” Harper was horrified. “Did you ever find out what happened to him? It’s weird, but that sort of happened to me. It was different because it was my boyfriend at the time. I assumed he died, but then he came back and tried to kill me. It was a whole thing ... which I’m totally over.”

  Even though it was a serious conversation, Rowan couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “Quinn told me that story. He ran all of you after Zander was found on the deck. He thought the similarities between the two of us were striking.

  “I mean, you have an ability and I do as well,” she continued. “Your boyfriend disappeared and my father was assumed dead, too. Your boyfriend came back.” She left the rest hanging, but Harper figured it out on her own.