29

Kayden shifted restlessly on the express ferry carrying her and Jake, along with the excursion gear, from Eagle Cove to Dutch Harbor. They’d left the marina before dawn and weren’t due to arrive in Dutch Harbor until five tomorrow morning—just ahead of the Bering. Piper had opted to stay another night in Eagle Cove with Landon and would be traveling by floatplane early tomorrow to meet up with them in Dutch Harbor when the Bering docked. While it was understandable that Piper wanted to be with Landon, it had left Kayden alone with Jake, again.

What had been an uncomfortable situation before now felt nearly unbearable for completely different reasons. There was so much she wanted to say, wanted to ask, but she had no right. Not after how horribly she’d treated him—how she’d doubted and assumed the worst. She felt like a heel, and she had no one to blame but herself.

Why couldn’t she have been trusting like Piper? Like any of her siblings?

She shifted on the crate she was using as a stool and watched Jake standing at the stern. The waves were turbulent in the ferry’s wake, spitting white foam. The dying rays of the sun emblazoned in rose hues across the twilight sky silhouetted his strong shoulders.

He wore his sorrow like a cloak. All these years she’d missed it, mistaken his anguish for hiding something shady. He’d been hiding something, but it was not even close to what she’d suspected.

His sorrow pierced her heart—a sensation she hadn’t experienced in years, not since the death of her mom. She’d hardly thought it still possible to feel such deep heartache, and the fact that it was because of Jake blew her mind.

The stirring in her heart, in her soul, nudged her to go to him—to say something to try to ease his pain—but the stirring had it dead wrong, so wrong it was almost laughable.

Me provide comfort? Ha! She wasn’t the comforting type. That was Piper’s thing. Kayden was the one her family called on when they needed strength, logic, or straightforwardness.

Straightforwardness.

She glanced up at the heavens with a shake of her head.

I see what you’re doing, but I’m not the one to help heal him. I’m a big part of what has hurt him.

I AM Jehovah Rophi. The-Lord-Who-Heals.

She balled her fists tight. When you want to be.

She hopped down from the crate, the squawk of seabirds finally settling in the crisp coming-night air. She’d slip quietly away, leaving Jake to his peace—or more likely, his pain.

What would you have me do, Lord?

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”

You want me to comfort him . . . ? Me?

She felt Jake’s gaze shift to her—she’d always been able to sense when he was watching. How could she possibly explain? How could he possibly understand why she was the way she was? And after she’d treated him so cruelly, why would he even care?

He excused himself, stepped into the back office, and answered the cell. “Yes?”

“The journalist found one of the gift-shop girls wearing the reporter’s necklace.”

“And?”

“She was told people lose and find things on the ship all the time.”

“Did she buy it?”

Silence.

He balled his fists, resisting the urge to strike something. “If everything I’ve built crumbles because of some trinket . . .”

“It won’t.”

“You’re right there.”

“I gave her a warning, like you said.”

“I think we’re far past warnings.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“What do you think?”

“Won’t we be calling too much attention to ourselves if another one goes missing so soon?”

He fought to hide his rage. It would do no good to lose it with a promising client seated in the next room. “It wouldn’t be too soon if you’d taken care of the reporter as I instructed the first time around.” He inhaled and released it slowly. “Trust me, a little attention is nothing compared to what will happen if we don’t meet our quota. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good, then get it done.” He ended the call.

Imbeciles. Every one of them. First they’d nearly botched silencing the reporter, but in the end, it’d played to his advantage. That’s exactly what needed to happen now—his team needed to step up and see that things went to their advantage, or it’d be all their heads, literally.

He delivered. He always delivered. He’d worked too long and too hard to build his network. No nosy broad or weak underling was going to destroy it. Even if it meant he needed to get his hands dirty on this one.

Gage paced restlessly in his cabin. Where is she?

He’d told her he’d find her at the Kodiak Café as soon as his meeting was finished, but had she waited for him? No, of course not. The waitress he’d frantically questioned upon not finding her there said she’d seen Darcy leave shortly after Clint and the other men had, but where she’d headed no one seemed to know.

He tried between his scheduled onboard activities to track her down without drawing massive attention to the urgency boiling inside.

The gift shop cashier said Darcy had dropped in to chat a bit, and one of the maids had passed her in the corridor not long before Gage had entered, but he’d been unable to put eyes on her. Finally he decided it was best to do what he’d instruct anyone else in his situation to do—go to where the person can find you.

So he’d returned to his cabin at eight o’clock and decided to give her until ten. If she didn’t seek him out by then, he was sounding the alarm, come what may. Darcy’s safety was too important for him to ignore her absence.

What if someone was on to her? What if the same person who had gotten rid of Abby had done something to Darcy?

He glanced at the clock—nine o’clock. It had been the longest hour of his life. Could he really wait another hour? Was that even the right thing to do?

A light knock rapped on his door, and the death grip in his chest slackened. Darcy’s knock.

He flung open the door, and a swell of relief swept through him. He yanked her inside and into his arms, kicking the door shut behind them.

“Hi,” she said, her voice muffled by his embrace. “My kind of welcome.”

As incredible as she felt, and as reluctant as he was to ever let her go, he did, alarmed frustration brimming to the surface. “What happened? You said you’d wait for me.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry. The guys only had a half hour before Clint had a massage scheduled, and Ted and George needed to help the stage crew with some structural issues they were having. I thought I’d just come to you, so I headed for your meeting, but Pam caught me in the corridor, asking about my fall. We started talking, and she started opening up, and I thought . . .”

“You might get another lead.”

“Yeah, and by then your meeting was over and I saw on the activities schedule you were pretty much booked the rest of the afternoon and evening, so I paid Celia another visit.”

“And did you learn anything more?”

“No.”

Everything she was saying, everything she’d done, was logical, but didn’t she realize how worried he’d been? Or didn’t she care?

“I wish you’d at least stopped by the activities center and told me everything was fine—or left a message on my voice mail.” How pathetic did he sound? He hated everything about this situation, hated the danger she’d put herself in, hated her lack of concern for her own safety even more.

“You’re right, I should have. I just . . .”

“You were thinking of the case.”

Her shoulders fell. “I just thought . . .”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re fine. So it all worked out.”

“Gage, I . . .” She stepped to him, taking his hand. “I hope you know how much I appreciate your help and concern.”

But the case came first. No doubt a story always would. He grabbed his soda and plunked down in a chair. “No sweat. So what did Mullins have to say about your looking through Abby’s stuff?”

Darcy hesitated before sitting.

Just answer the question, Darcy. Don’t make a big deal out of this. They were obviously at different places, as usual.

“She said I couldn’t because she’d already shipped them off.”

“Wow, that was efficient. So no opportunity there. Learn anything from Clint and the gang?”

“No. They pretty much gave me the party line—painted a grand picture of adventure for future passengers, but I did sense some tension between Clint and Ted.”

“Over what?”

“Nothing that I could pinpoint. Just an underlying current.” She shifted. “I don’t know, Gage. It seems like that’s how everything has been going—I catch on to the hint of a clue and then it all breaks apart. Maybe this is all in my mind. Could I be imagining that Abby is in danger?”

“I don’t know, Darc. As unconvinced as I was earlier, I think you are on to something here.” He wished he could think of something to give her hope. “So, did Abby’s roommate say if there was anything strange in how Abby was acting before she disappeared?”

“No, she didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. But I guess they rarely saw each other. She said—” Her eyes widened and she started pawing at her purse.

“Darcy, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t believe I forgot about it.” She pulled out a Gideon Bible. “It’s probably nothing, but I should have remembered to check.”

She slowly fanned the pages, and about halfway in, she stopped and pulled out a folded square of white paper.

“Abby uses these index cards for taking notes.” She unfolded the paper—“this is her writing”—and scanned the card. “But this makes no sense.”

“Can I see it?” Taking the paper from her outstretched hand, he read, “Head cheerleader at Baylor plus Bio I lab partner.”

Darcy finished paging through the Bible and rubbed her eyes. “Is it a message or just some random scribble?”

“Does it mean anything to you?”

“Well, the head cheerleader for most of our time at Baylor was Jessica Hardy—I’ll never forget her. And Abby didn’t take biology, so maybe she means my Bio I lab partner, who was Brad Matthews. But I don’t have any idea what they would have to do with Abby’s disappearance or smuggling.”

She shrugged, put the note and Bible back in her purse, and asked, “So how did your meeting go?”

“Fine.” Apparently she was on to the next topic. “A new couple joined tomorrow’s excursion. The Benjamins. They participated in a couple excursions earlier in the cruise. They’re on board for the full twenty-day cruise option from Seattle to Russia.”

“So they were on excursions with Abby?”

“Yes. Two, including Abby’s last.”

“The day Abby was supposed to explain everything to me.”

“Right, and according to the Benjamins, Abby didn’t seem herself.”

“See! I told you something was bothering her before she left. What did they say?”

“They said she was distracted, and Mrs. Benjamin thought she appeared somewhat frightened.”

“Did she say of whom or what?”

Gage shook his head. “No, but it unsettled Mrs. Benjamin, and when she heard Abby had left the Bering, it spooked her for a bit. Her husband said he was finally able to talk her into trying one more excursion.”

“So they’ll be along tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“And will I be on that excursion?”

He sighed. “I won’t blow your cover.”

She leaned forward. “You won’t?”

“No. I thought about it. If Piper or Kayden were missing, I’d do anything to find them. I may not agree with your approach, but I understand your heart.” The way he’d felt while unable to locate her for a few measly hours provided him a tiny glimpse of the terror she must feel for her friend.

“Thank you.” Emotion swelled in her voice.

“You may not want to thank me just yet.” He couldn’t in good conscience overlook her safety.

Her brows dipped. “Why not?”

“You can come on the excursion, but you have to ride on the transport boat.”

“But Mullins—”

“Will understand. You just took a significant blow to the head. I’m sure for one excursion it won’t be a big deal. Besides, say you’re just following her idea of covering the crew. Joining Ted on the transport vessel will give you some more behind-the-scenes coverage.”

“Say she buys it, what about the next excursion?”

“You’re in luck. The third and final LFA excursion is an overnight hiking and rock-climbing excursion—no kayaks involved.”

She smiled. “I like the sound of no kayaks.”

“Riding over in the boat will get you there faster, so you’ll have more time to poke around the island while Ted is setting up.”

“The boat.” She sprang to her feet.

“What about it?”

Her countenance brightened. “The rescue boat.”

“Yeah?”

“If someone wanted Abby dead, if they pushed her overboard, why lower a rescue boat?”

He pondered that a moment. “Someone else must have seen her go over.”

Darcy smiled. “And they sounded the man-overboard alarm.”

“So . . .” Gage ran with the scenario. “Whoever pushed Abby overboard regrouped, knowing they had to be the ones to pull her from the water. They couldn’t risk letting someone else reach her first.”

“They?”

Gage shook his head. “No way it could be a one-man job.”

“Okay. So they launch the rescue boat, pull her from the water, and then . . . ?”

“Supposedly take her to Kodiak Hospital.”

“Yeah, that’s what they claim.” Darcy paced just as he had until she’d knocked on his door. The worry was finally easing from his bones. “Landon said the woman claiming to be Abby didn’t show until three hours after she went overboard.”

“It would never have taken that long to reach the hospital if they were close enough to shore to make the call to take her in the first place.”

“That’s what Landon said.”

“So . . . what? They got some other woman similar in appearance to Abby, sent her in only to have her leave before she could be properly registered or assessed?”

“Right . . . That way if anyone followed up, the story of Abby being taken to the hospital and then leaving of her own accord would hold true.”

“But if it wasn’t Abby they took to the hospital, what did they do with her?”

Darcy’s hands balled at her sides. “I don’t know.”

Gage stood, intercepting her path. He rested his hands on her shoulders, gently keeping her in place. Dipping his head, he looked her straight in the eye. “I know it’s difficult, but I think at this point you have to consider the possibility . . .”

She shook her head. “Don’t say it.”

His heart melted at the fierce determination in her eyes and the quivering of her bottom lip. “Darcy . . .”

“She’s not dead.”

“Then where is she? It’s been four days.” He didn’t want to hurt her, to crush her hope, but he feared Abby was dead, and the sooner Darcy came to grips with the possibility, the better.

“I don’t know, but when we get to the bottom of this and find out exactly who’s involved, we’ll find her. I just know it.” There was so much resolve clinging to her voice, mixed with such fragile hope, he didn’t have the heart to break it.

“I hope you’re right.” He truly did, but it didn’t seem realistic.

She gave a weak smile. “I thought you didn’t believe in hope.”

He cupped her face so she couldn’t look away. “I believe in your tenacious ability to find your friend if she’s still alive.”

“Don’t say if.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

“Darcy . . .” His fingers lightly caressed her jaw. He needed her to feel what he was feeling if only for the briefest of moments.

He lowered his mouth to hers, ignoring every warning signal shooting off in his brain. Kissing might not be the smartest move, but it felt beyond right.

Her lips parted, her sweet breath mingling with his.

What was he doing?

Her hands slid up his neck, her fingers threading through his hair.

He worked to rein in his quickly evaporating self-control. Despite everything, he’d fallen for her hard, and if he wasn’t careful . . .

Careful was the exact opposite of what he was being, of what he was doing.

Mustering massive restraint, he pulled back.

Her eyes fluttered open. She yanked her hands to her sides, staring up at him.

He swallowed, the taste of her watermelon lip gloss still on his lips. “You . . .”

“Should go,” she said, stepping away.

“What? Go where?”

“I need to break into Mullins’ office, and now is the perfect time.”

“You need to do what?”