“If you say so.” Quinn pursed his lips and waited. After a moment, when Mark didn’t say anything, he decided to press harder. “Mr. Brady, I need to know where you were between ten last night and four this morning.”
“And what if I don’t feel like answering?” There was obvious challenge in the way Mark tilted his head.
“Then I will be forced to take you to a holding cell, where you will remain until we dock back in Florida,” Quinn replied without hesitation. “At that time, you will be able to retain a lawyer and talk to the local authorities there.”
Mark was dumbfounded. “You can’t do that. I’m performing at least three other shows on the ship over the next few days.”
“There are plenty of people here willing to take your place,” Quinn countered. “I don’t think we’ll have a problem sliding someone in.”
“I’ll call your corporate office to complain. You’ll lose your job.”
“No, I won’t. It doesn’t matter, though. You will either answer my questions or you’ll go to holding. It’s up to you.”
Mark’s frustration was palpable. “I don’t know where I was between those hours. I vaguely remember being at a bar — there were hot women involved ... and melting ice cubes — and I woke up here shortly before you knocked. I’m honestly not sure where I was last night.”
“Is it normal for you to drink so much you black out?”
“I didn’t black out. I just ... don’t remember.”
Quinn heaved out a sigh. “You’re going to have to do better than that. You need to come up with answers. Otherwise, you’re going to be on top of my suspect list. You predicted her death last night and now she’s gone. I’m having trouble believing that’s a coincidence.”
“I don’t know what else to tell you. I don’t remember.”
“Then we definitely have a problem.”
7
Seven
It was only after Quinn departed to continue his investigation that Rowan realized she’d forgotten to tell him about her conversation with her father. He’d answered on the first ring after she texted to say she was calling, and his careworn face broke into a bright smile when he saw her.
The smile evaporated when she told him what was going on. Since he had no idea how to help, he promised to do some research and get back to her. It had been a long shot from the start, but she was mildly disappointed.
With nothing better to do, she returned to the deck — which was bustling with activity now that the body had been removed and guests seemed none the wiser as to what had transpired — and started snapping photographs. Her goal was to get as many people as possible isolated into their own snapshots so she could check the omen and go from there.
She went about it scientifically, breaking each section down into quadrants and snapping away. After taking almost three hundred photos, she moved to the tiki bar so she could huddle in the shade and search the photos. She didn’t like what she saw.
“What are you doing?” Sally Jenkins, Rowan’s best friend on the ship, took her by surprise when she swooped in and claimed the spot across from her.
“Wow. I’m totally getting you a bell to wear around your neck,” Rowan complained, pressing her hand to the spot above her heart. “You scared the life out of me.”
Instead of apologizing, Sally barked out a laugh. “Please. You’ve almost been killed at least four times in the last six months. I think you’ll survive.”
Rowan’s expression turned dark. “I didn’t almost die four times.”
“It felt that way to me.”
“Yeah, well ... .” Rowan trailed off and regrouped. “What are you up to?” Sally was one of her favorite people on the ship. The woman was gregarious, open, and never tried to make herself feel better at the expense of others. She also knew Rowan’s secret, and even though the news went over like a lead balloon at the start, she was open to conversation now.
“Just looking around,” Sally replied, her gaze thoughtful as it roamed Rowan’s face. “You look a little pink. Did you forget your sunscreen this morning?”
“Huh.” Rowan furrowed her brow and then cursed under her breath. “I guess I did. I was in a hurry. Quinn got the call about the body right away and I had something to do after. Crap. Is it bad?” Rowan tried to maneuver so she could see her reflection in the mirror behind the bar, but she was too far away to get a good look.
“It’s not terrible, but it has the potential to darken … and maybe peel,” Sally said. “I think you’ll be fine. Just tell people you’re perpetually embarrassed.”
“Yes, that sounds like a great idea.”
“Woohoo.” Sally made an exaggerated face as she fanned herself. “Someone is hot under the collar as well as in the face. What’s up with you?”
Rowan opened her mouth to answer and then found she didn’t have the words.
Sensing the shift in her friend’s demeanor, Sally’s smile slipped. “Seriously, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.” Rowan gestured toward her computer screen, prompting Sally to grab her chair and scooch closer. “What do you see here?”
Sally focused on the screen. “It’s the omen. You’ve shown it to me before. This is the death omen, right?”
Rowan nodded and scrolled to another photo. “And here?”
“It’s another omen.”
Rowan slowly shuffled through the photos, briefly pausing on each one so Sally could see the magnitude of what they were dealing with. “There are more than a hundred of them.”
“Holy ... what does that mean?” Sally looked as concerned as Rowan felt, which was a small comfort to the shaken photographer.
“I have no idea,” Rowan answered. “I’ve never seen it before … at least not so many times. I don’t know what it means.”
“Does Quinn know?”
“Of course. I couldn’t keep something like this from him.”
“Definitely not,” Sally agreed. “I’m no expert, but it seems to be pointing at a catastrophe to me. Is that how you read things?”
“I don’t want to say that because it might cause a panic.”
“Well, since only Quinn, you, and I know about it, I don’t think we have to worry about that.” Sally was thoughtful as she tapped her chin. “What kind of catastrophe do you think we’re facing?”
“If I knew that, we’d be taking steps to eliminate the threat right now.”
“Fair enough.” More tapping. “Hey, what about the dead woman? Have you checked your photos to see if she had the omen on her?”
Rowan felt like an idiot. “No, and that’s a really good idea. What was her name again?”
“I don’t know. How should I know that?”
“Quinn told me.” Rowan rolled her neck and concentrated. “Vale. Tasha Vale. I remember because I thought it would be cool if Batman and Star Trek crossed over.”
Sally pursed her lips. “And how would that happen?”
“Vicki Vale from Batman and Tasha Yar from Star Trek: The Next Generation.”
“Wow. You’re a geek.” Sally poked her side, genuinely amused. “I had no idea you were such a geek.”
“And I’m done talking to you,” Rowan muttered as she searched through the photographs she’d taken the previous day. “Here she is at check-in.” She studied the photo in question, zeroing in on the dead woman. “She was with a group of other store owners. I talked to them.”
Rowan racked her brain. “They said that they wanted to come because they thought it would be a good way to make connections in the business,” she continued. “They were having a good time. I asked them how they all knew each other and they said they met through an online group. I don’t know anything else about them.”
“What is Quinn saying?”
“He didn’t have time to tell me much. He mentioned there was a guy on the deck sleeping and he initially thought he might have something to do with what happened, but the guy on the deck was gay.”
“That doesn’t mean he�
��s not a murderer.”
“No, but Quinn seemed to think it was a coincidence. He didn’t have a lot of time to talk. I’ll have to get more information out of him later.”
“Okay. That makes sense. What are you going to do about this, though? The omen obviously appears in the photograph.”
“It does. I don’t have a single photo of Tasha, though. The omen could be there for one of the other women ... or several of the other women. I didn’t notice the omen until I was going through photos yesterday. Today I’m isolating people.”
“What are you going to do about it, though?” Sally pressed. “How do you even approach something like this?”
“I have no idea. Although ... maybe we should make a list of the things that could happen on a ship to take out multiple people at once.”
“How do you know they’re all dying at once?”
“I don’t, but it makes the most sense. There’s no way a killer could individually stalk a hundred people and kill them. That means we’re dealing with a mass casualty situation. There can only be so many things that can happen on a ship.”
“I think you would be surprised how many things can happen on a ship,” Sally countered. “Something could explode ... or the ship could hit an iceberg and sink.”
Rowan made an exasperated face. “We’re going to the Bahamas. There are no icebergs.”
“Fine. Maybe a Megalodon is out there and it’s going to ram into the ship.”
“Ugh. I knew taking you to that giant shark movie was a mistake.”
Sally’s mischievous smile was back. “Yes, well, that doesn’t change the fact that there are multiple things that could sink us,” she said. “It could be something as simple as someone slipping a dangerous substance into the food and poisoning people.”
“Well, I have to admit, I didn’t even consider that.” Rowan leaned back in her chair and stretched her legs in front of her. “You’re right. It could be any number of things. I don’t know what to do.”
“There’s nothing you can do.” Sally rarely opted for pragmatism, but she did today. “All you can do is be vigilant. You can’t watch all of them. This is a case where you have to figure out the end result before the pieces fit into the puzzle.”
“Oh, well, that doesn’t sound daunting at all.”
“Aren’t you glad you have me around to tell you things like that?”
“I’m always glad to have you around.”
HARPER AND JARED WAITED for Zander to shower and then ushered him out of his room despite his protests.
“The security dude wants to talk to me.”
“It’s a ship,” Jared pointed out. “It won’t take much for him to find you. We all need some food ... and to have a bit of a talk about last night.”
“Frankly, I don’t think Harper should eat,” Zander shot back. “If she does, she’ll just throw it up again. Seriously, that was the grossest thing that ever happened to me.”
“You should be thankful that I love you enough to puke on you,” Harper groused, folding her arms across her chest as Jared pointed them toward the elevator. “Not everyone has a best friend who would puke because she was so upset about their death.”
“Oh, geez.” Zander rolled his eyes as he walked into the elevator and stood next to Jared. “I’m never going to get her to shut up about this, am I?”
Jared smirked as he tugged Harper in front of him and wrapped his arms around her waist to keep her still. She was practically vibrating with agitation, and he didn’t want her to explode all over Zander in an enclosed space. “Let’s not take this to a nasty place, huh? We need to talk about a few things.”
“You’ve said that already,” Zander complained as they exited the elevator and moved toward the dining room. “Aw, man. I missed breakfast. They’re serving lunch now. How come everything terrible in this world happens to me?”
Jared slid him a sidelong look. “Actually, I think you were pretty lucky last night considering the fact that you were passed out on a lounger a few feet away from where a woman was murdered. You didn’t even wake up. The murderer could’ve taken you out just as easily.”
“Yeah, well ... .” Zander forgot what he was about to say — he just knew it was going to be snarky — when he realized Harper had drifted away from them and was looking through the open doorway that led to the deck. She seemed lost in thought. “Harp, what are you doing? If you’re going to be sick again, there’s a bathroom right there. For the love of all that’s holy, use it.”
“I’m not going to be sick. It’s just ... I think I saw something.”
“Saw what?” Jared asked, curious despite himself. His growling stomach told him it was time to refuel, but Harper wasn’t the sort to get distracted by anything inane. Er, well, unless she was bored and Zander had a bug up his butt or something. In those instances, she could easily be distracted by the inane.
“I’m not sure. Go ahead and find a table. I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes.” She moved to exit through the door, but Jared stopped her before she could drift too far away.
“Absolutely not.” He was firm. “We’re all going together.” He grabbed Zander’s arm and gave it a sharp tug. “That includes you.”
“I don’t want to go to the deck,” Zander complained. “No, I’m being serious. I’m hungry and I need some caffeine. I don’t want to go off on whatever harebrained adventure Harper is envisioning.”
“I would like nothing better than to leave you behind for the entire afternoon,” Jared shot back. “I thought I would be planted in a hammock by now with my girlfriend in one arm and a piña colada in the other. That hasn’t exactly worked out, though.”
“Oh, poor Jared.”
“Don’t make me thump you,” Jared growled. “You’re coming with us, mostly because Harper will melt down if she doesn’t have you close. You have no idea what she went through when she thought you were dead.”
“Oh, you can’t keep using that against me,” Zander complained. “It’s not my fault. It was just one of those things. It could’ve happened to anybody.”
“I don’t know anyone other than you that it could’ve happened to.”
“I need food,” Zander snapped, jerking his arm away from Jared. “I feel terrible.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Um ... yours. You guys left me on my own last night. If we’d been together, none of this would’ve happened.”
“Oh, that’s a load of crap. I ... .” Jared realized too late that Harper had slipped away and was already through the hallway that led to the deck. “I blame this on you, Zander.” He wagged a finger at the other man before stomping after his fiancée. “I don’t see why you can’t behave yourself for five minutes.”
“Oh, yes, it’s my fault Harper gave you the slip,” Zander intoned as he followed. He obviously wasn’t keen on putting off his meal, but he understood Jared’s desire to keep Harper close. “I’m to blame for all of this.”
“You definitely are,” Jared agreed. “I ... oomph.” He was in such a hurry to catch up, he didn’t check to see if anyone was in his way before rounding the nearest corner. That allowed him to slam right into Harper, who barely noticed his less than graceful arrival. “What are you doing?”
“There,” Harper murmured, her eyes fixed on the tiki bar. “She’s there.”
“Who is there?’ Jared asked, frustration bubbling up.
“Tasha Vale.”
“What?” Realization dawned slowly on Jared. Since they were away from Whisper Cove, he’d managed to shove Harper’s ability to trip over a ghost at every turn out of his head. It seemed surreal to discuss it here. “Where is she standing?”
“In front of the bar,” Harper replied. “She keeps staring at it, occasionally moving her hand. I think she’s trying to tell me something.”
The deck was so busy, Jared was forced to move closer to Harper to keep from being separated from her by the constant line of traffic. “You can’t talk to her now, Heart,
” he whispered, his mouth close to her ear. “There are too many people around.”
“We have to ask her how she died,” Harper argued. “We might not see her again. We have to take advantage of this opportunity.”
Jared shook his head, firm. “No. I don’t want you to risk anyone noticing what you’re doing.”
“I’m the first one who thinks Harper should be careful when it comes to outing her ability, but we’re on a cruise that’s designed for paranormal investigators,” Zander pointed out. “If she’s safe unveiling her ability anywhere, it’s here.”
“I ... .” Jared wasn’t sure how to respond. Technically, Zander had a point. However, he remained wary. “I still think we should wait until there are less people around. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“I want to talk to her,” Harper snapped. “She keeps gesturing toward the bar. That has to mean something.”
“It means she got drunk there last night.”
“No, she got drunk at the jazz bar with Zander.”
“Huh. I forgot about that.” Jared dragged a restless hand through his hair as he focused on Zander. “Is the jazz bar the last place you saw her?”
“I don’t know,” Zander said. “I think we went somewhere else. There were a group of us. I was the life of the party. They kept calling me ‘Zan the Man.’”
Harper scowled. “They did not. You made that up months ago. There’s no way they started calling you that out of the blue.”
“I might have told them it was my name.”
“Oh, that is ... pathetic,” Harper drawled, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you would stoop that low.”
“Hey, I was drunk. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Those are famous last words if I’ve ever heard them,” Jared said. “It doesn’t matter, though. I need you to think. Did you visit the tiki bar?”
“I ... .” Zander trailed off, his mind busy. At that exact moment, a tall man in board shorts and a T-shirt moved behind him and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Hey, Zan the Man. How’s it hanging?”
Zander narrowed his eyes as he stared at the man. “Um ... .”
Ghostly Seas: A Harper Harlow and Rowan Gray Mystery Page 7
