8

“Did you find Gage?” Ted asked as she passed back through the main hall.

“Yeah. All good.”

“Mullins thought you should get a tour of the ship, and since I’m not doing anything . . . I volunteered.”

“That’s really nice of you, but I don’t want to take up your free time.”

He smiled. “I insist.”

“Okay.” It’d be good to get a firsthand tour of the inner workings of the ship.

Ted started with the main social areas, all crammed with passengers—hundreds of people. It was nearly enough to make her feel claustrophobic. “That restaurant”—he pointed to the steakhouse—“has the best food on board.”

“Thanks, I’ll remember that.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

He smiled, gazing down at her. “So . . . are you and Gage an item?”

She laughed. “No. I barely know him.”

Ted’s brows arched. “Really? You two seemed . . .”

“Irritated by each other?”

He laughed. “I was going to say chummy.”

Exactly what she feared, that they’d appear closer than the loose association she’d hoped to convey.

“Nah, I just covered an extreme-sport event in his town.”

“Well, you must have made some impression, because he stared at you all through the meeting.”

If only it were out of attraction instead of judgment on his part. “We’re both a bit strong willed, so we tend to butt heads.”

“Strong willed.” He smirked. “I’ll remember that.”

She smiled. Ted was flirting with her, and if she weren’t so worried about Abby and so distracted . . .

Ted was exactly the type of guy she could be interested in—tall, athletic, handsome, kind, interesting. But who was she trying to kid? She was head over heels for Gage.

“So did you know Abby, Ted?” Now that she and Ted had reached a comfortable level, it was time to start digging.

“The excursion chef?”

She nodded.

“Yeah.” He took a sip of the coffee they’d picked up at the espresso café on Deck 7 while making the rounds.

“Weird she just left like that.”

“Nah. Happens a lot.”

She nearly choked on her macchiato. “It does?”

“Sure.” Ted shrugged, waving at a group of passing crew members easily identified by their crisp white bottoms—a mixture of pants and varying length skirts—and both long- and short-sleeved dark navy tops with the Destiny Cruise Line emblem, a gold merman holding a trident, emblazoned on the right-hand side.

Ted finished off his coffee and tossed the paper cup in the trash. “People think working for a cruise ship will be exciting. They romanticize traveling the world, but when they get here they realize it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“It’s not?”

“It’s work, just like anyplace else. Long hours. A lot of time away from your family.” He held the door to the spa open for her.

“Sounds like you aren’t a big fan.”

“Me? Nah, I love it.”

Fresh fruity scents of coconut, mango, and pineapple swirled in the air.

“But you just said . . .”

“That people expect it to be this grand adventure, and in a way it is, but not everyone is made for a life at sea.”

“And you are?” she asked as they stepped to the counter.

“Sure. I love traveling, meeting new people every cruise.” He lifted his chin at the gal behind the desk. “Just giving the resident journalist the grand tour,” he said as the woman’s gaze raked over Darcy.

“Enjoy,” she said with a clipped nod.

“Thanks.” Darcy nodded back.

Ted led her down the back hall. Soothing music piped over the speakers. “I don’t mind the hours and the time away from home,” he continued, “but I’ve always been an independent guy.” He pointed out the yoga room as they passed. “And I don’t have a lot of family to begin with. None I’m really close to. I’ve got a sister, but she’s busy with her job and her kids. We see each other for the holidays and that’s enough.”

Not so different from her. With her parents retired and traveling the world, and her brother, Peter, having died three years ago, she didn’t have much in the way of family to spend time with. Most of the time she was okay with that, or at least she had thought she was until she’d spent a good portion of the winter with the McKennas.

Being part of a close-knit family on a daily basis had been really nice. It’d become comfortable, and near the end expected, which made leaving all the more difficult. The thought of spending time with some of the McKenna siblings on tomorrow’s excursion lightened her devastated heart a little, and she silently thanked God for that. For them.

“You’ll find that’s pretty common around here,” Ted said, opening another door.

“What is?”

“Lack of family.” He led her into the steam bath. A large, shallow pool commanded the center of the space, the glass windows covered with shadowy mist. Two people sat in the crystal blue water, perspiration and contentment on their brows.

She and Ted quietly stepped back out, leaving the two to their solitude.

“I don’t understand,” she said, once back in the hall.

“You’re a good reporter. Always inquisitive.”

“Just curious by nature.” She shrugged.

“So . . . curious and strong willed?” He chuckled.

She smiled. “Curiosity’s a great way to get to know people.”

“I suppose it is.”

“So . . . you were saying something about lack of family . . . ?”

“Right. Most folks can’t hack being away from loved ones for so long, so the cruise line ends up employing people who are desperately in need of the money and are only here until they find something better back on land, don’t care much for their family and are looking to escape them, or most often don’t have family period.”

“No family? How sad.”

“Depends on the person and the family, I suppose.”

“So you think that’s why Abby left so suddenly? Because she decided cruising wasn’t for her?” she asked, though she knew better.

“Who knows why she left? And honestly . . . not to be rude, but who cares?”

She stopped. “No one cares that she left suddenly?”

“Like I said, I wasn’t trying to be rude but—”

As he came around the corner, Clint almost barreled into them. “Are you forgetting your manners again, Ted?” he asked with an apologetic smile at Darcy. “You have to forgive Ted. He doesn’t always have a filter between his thoughts and his mouth.”

Why didn’t anyone seem to care that Abby had seemingly just up and left midcruise? And why on earth wasn’t that considered unusual?

Darcy returned to her cabin thoroughly frustrated. She’d spent all day speaking with crew members, digging for answers under the guise of wanting the inside scoop of the Bering’s new adventure angle, but found only a general lack of concern for her friend’s absence. While Ted and Clint had proved to be the most talkative, neither appeared to have any concern about Abby’s sudden departure.

When she shifted from the adventure focus to a simple question about Abby’s disappearance, every single crew member shrugged it off as no big deal. All she had managed to get was irritation and indifference—not leads. And to top it off, she’d lost track of time and missed Gage’s excursion meeting. Now she’d have even more annoyance and irritation to deal with on his end.

She shrugged off the navy Bering sweater she’d been given by Mullins upon arrival, replacing it with her cobalt-and-black-striped American Eagle one. It was soft and cozy, and allowed her a small touch of home. She also swapped out the white slacks she’d been wearing and pulled on her favorite pair of faded jeans. If everything around her was going to feel foreign, at least she could be in comfortable clothes during her time off.

She ran a brush through her hair, touched up her makeup, and moved to grab her lip gloss from her purse. Opening the closet where she’d left her purse hanging next to Abby’s, she froze. Only hers remained. Her gaze dropped to the floor, thinking perhaps the purse had, too, but it wasn’t there—only her own neatly lined-up shoes.

She sifted through her hanging clothes, thinking maybe Abby’s purse had somehow gotten tangled in the garments, but still nothing. Grabbing hers off the hook, she riffled through it, panic setting in. Everything appeared to be in place, but she couldn’t shake the feeling something was very off.

She set her purse on the bed and began searching the room. Everything was where she’d left it—only Abby’s purse was missing.

Taking a deep breath, Darcy studied the room. The bed was neatly made, fresh towels hung on the rack in the bathroom—housekeeping had been by. Had one of them taken Abby’s purse? But why not hers? Who else would have access to her room?

The question was, how did she proceed without drawing even more attention to herself and her interest in Abby? How could she possibly explain that she’d taken Abby’s purse in the first place? And, worst of all, had she missed something of significance when she’d searched it?