“Well, I think it happens to suck,” Paul groused. “I think we should run.”
“I’m not ruling that out when we land on El Demonio,” Quinn admitted. “We’re not getting on a life raft, though. It’s simply not going to happen. For now, we’re playing it by ear.
“You’re either part of the team or working against us, Paul,” he continued. “I can’t focus on you when your daughter is in danger. That means you can’t constantly be dragging my attention away from her. This is not about you.”
Paul balked. “I never said it was.”
“Then put the team first. We’re in this together.”
“Fine. I’ll take first watch on deck.”
“We’ll do it in teams,” Fred corrected. “If one of us is sitting out there alone watching her, we’ll draw attention. Everyone needs a partner so it looks as if we’re just hanging out together and she happens to be there. We’ll set up a rotation schedule.”
“That sounds good.” Quinn rested his hand on Rowan’s shoulder and gave her a light squeeze. “While you’re doing that, I’m having a talk with Michael. I want to know exactly what his relationship is with Spencer. I think we’re at a place where it’s necessary to find out.”
“I would definitely agree with that.”
MICHAEL WAS SURPRISED WHEN QUINN showed up at his private office.
“Hey. I was just about to pour some coffee. You look like you could use some.”
Quinn managed a wan smile for his friend and nodded. “That sounds great. I could use the caffeine.”
“You look like you had a long night.” Michael was sympathetic. “Were you up late fighting with Rowan? I have to say, I’ve never seen her like that before. Is she finally letting her hair down? That might not be a bad thing.”
“She had a rough day yesterday,” Quinn replied as he got comfortable in one of the chairs across from Michael’s desk. He accepted the mug of coffee the captain graced him with and sipped before continuing. “She really was not feeling her best. I should’ve insisted she go to bed early. She didn’t want to disappoint you, though, since you requested the dinner with your friend.”
“Oh, that’s sweet. It wasn’t a big deal, though. Leon would’ve gotten over it.”
Quinn sipped again as he debated exactly how he wanted to bring up Michael’s long-lost college buddy. “How well do you know Leon?”
If Michael found the question odd, he didn’t show it. “Oh, well, not that well really. I mean, that story he told about us rushing the fraternity together was true. We were close enough when we were pledges. Once we were initiated, though, we basically went our separate ways.”
“Is that because you didn’t trust him?”
Michael cocked his head to the side, confused. “Is something wrong?”
“Not necessarily. I’m just curious about your friend. He was a late addition to the guest registry and I’m always suspicious whenever something like that happens.”
“That’s because you’re not a very trusting soul.” Michael chuckled as he shook his head. “You need to ease up a bit. Leon is perfectly harmless. He asked if I could get him on the cruise last minute. We didn’t have a lot of space but there were a few extra rooms. We always keep that small block for backup.”
“Did he say why he wanted to be added at the last minute?”
“El Demonio,” Michael replied simply. “He’s interested in the shipwreck find and heard we were heading back. I think he believes there are ghosts down there or something.”
Quinn furrowed his brow. “Ghosts? I don’t follow.”
“No, I don’t either.” Michael’s chuckle was nervous and hollow. “See, the thing is, Leon and I drifted apart because he had an obsession of sorts. When I joined the fraternity, it was because I wanted ready access to beer and broads.”
Even though the statement was crude, Quinn wasn’t exactly surprised. Apparently Michael hadn’t changed much over the years. He was still obsessed with broads. He’d upgraded from beer to single malt whiskey, though. “I would assume that’s what most people join fraternities for,” Quinn said dryly. “I mean ... I’ve heard people lie and say it’s for the connections, but we all know why they really do it.”
“We do,” Michael agreed. “Although, to be fair, some of the connections I made back then still hold true. I have great friends from my college days and we still keep in touch.”
“Leon wasn’t one of them, though.”
“No. Leon actually did join the fraternity to make connections. It was simply with a guy everyone else in the fraternity wanted to pretend didn’t exist.”
Quinn felt as if he was lagging in the conversation. “I don’t understand.”
“Edgar Torrance.”
Quinn ran the name through his memory and came up empty. “Am I supposed to know who that is?” he asked finally. “If so, I don’t.”
“It’s been a good seven or eight years, so I’m not surprised that you don’t know who he is,” Michael admitted. “His name was all over the news in central Florida for a time. You were probably overseas, but you’ll recognize the story even if you don’t remember the name. He was the guy who entombed those three girls in a basement room because he thought they had psychic powers and were stealing thoughts from his brain.”
Realization dawned on Quinn and he straightened in his chair. “Right. I did hear that story. The guy was crazy. He got convicted anyway but escaped the death penalty because his doctor testified that he could no longer tell right from wrong.”
“Pretty much.” Michael bobbed his head. “Edgar was a former member of the fraternity. He gained some notoriety back in the day because, supposedly, there was a ghost haunting one of the dorms. She reportedly kept throwing herself out a window to her death — just like she did forty years ago — and he exorcized her ... or whatever you do with a ghost.”
“I think exorcism has to do with demon possession,” Quinn noted. “It sounds like this Edgar guy was obsessed with the paranormal.”
“Absolutely. That was his thing. It turns out, that was Leon’s thing, too. I didn’t find out until after the fact, but Leon only joined the fraternity because he was hoping to find a way to contact Edgar. This was before Edgar lost his mind and killed those girls, of course.”
Quinn was officially intrigued. “Did Leon ever hook up with Edgar?”
“I never asked but I’m doubtful. He just wanted someone to talk to and Edgar fit the bill. I honestly forgot about Leon’s paranormal obsession until he showed up again. I was kind of hoping he’d outgrown it — he would spend hours reading these thick, dusty books in the library that talked about ghosts and other stuff — but one of the first things he asked me when we had drinks that first day was if I’d seen anything odd on the ship.
“I asked what he meant because I honestly wasn’t sure and he said that he thought cruise ships were notorious for hauntings and psychic phenomenon,” he continued. “I figured he was messing with me and started laughing. It turns out he wasn’t messing with me.”
Quinn’s stomach settled a bit. It sounded as if Spencer had simply taken advantage of an old connection. Michael — per usual — had no idea what was going on and was trapped in his own little world. There was nothing evil about his friend. He was simply easily manipulated.
“Well, he sounds like a bit of a loon,” Quinn supplied after a beat. “I thought he was slightly off at dinner.”
Michael made an incredulous face. “How could you tell given the way your girlfriend was acting?”
Quinn felt the need to stick up for Rowan. “She wasn’t feeling well. Things got away from her. I think you should give her a break. It’s not as if you haven’t tied one on here or there since we’ve met.”
“And you forced me back to my quarters when I did it, too.” Michael broke out in a wide grin. “You’re a fabulous Boy Scout. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“No one who has lived to tell the tale.”
“Perhaps I’ll be the first.”
“Perhaps.”
ROWAN FORCED HERSELF TO FOCUS ON taking photos even though her mind insisted on wandering all over the place. She figured the normalcy of the task would be calming. Oddly enough, she turned out to be right. Once she got used to being watched by her father and uncle — from a distance of course — she allowed herself to relax. Her camera was a natural extension of her hands and, before she knew it, she was fully engaged in her task. She’d taken more than a hundred photos when the first blip in her day arrived. It was blonde, and rather obvious when approaching her.
“I’m surprised you’re up this morning,” Darcy offered. She had a drink in her hand, a pink umbrella sticking out of it, and appeared amused. “I thought you might call in sick and spend the day in bed.”
“That’s not really my style,” Rowan replied. “I drank a little more than was necessary last night — and I’m sorry if I said anything rude or weird — but I feel much better today.”
“Your stomach bug passed then?” The question was laden with innuendo.
“It did,” Rowan confirmed. “I feel much better.”
“Well, that’s good.” Darcy licked her lips and glanced around. It almost looked as if she was making sure nobody was eavesdropping. “You should probably take it easy with the alcohol. It’s not exactly going to help your particular situation.”
Rowan’s antenna was up. “What’s my particular situation?”
“You know ... under the weather.”
That wasn’t what she was talking about. Rowan was convinced, at least in a roundabout way, the woman was trying to warn her. She’d been unsure the day before, but now she believed Darcy showed her the photo to tip her off. Rowan wouldn’t have thought to take a selfie and check herself without a little prodding. Perhaps Darcy understood that because she was like Rowan.
The notion was interesting ... and a little chilling.
“That was an interesting photo you showed me,” Rowan started, opting to go for it. Quinn would probably be unhappy but she had to follow her gut on this one. “Is there a specific reason you were taking photos of my boyfriend and me on the deck that night?”
Darcy feigned innocence. “I was just testing my camera. I didn’t even realize you guys were in the photo until I was looking at them the next day.”
She delivered the line with flat indifference, but Rowan was convinced there was something in the depths of her eyes that hinted at despair. For an instant, Rowan wondered if Darcy’s gift was being used against her will. Perhaps that’s why she warned her, so Rowan had a chance to make sure the same thing didn’t happen to her.
Of course, it could’ve been something else entirely.
“Tell me about your job,” Rowan insisted, changing course quickly. “What do you do?”
“I’m an accountant.”
They both knew that wasn’t true. “You don’t do anything else for the company?”
“I work with numbers.” Her delivery was flat. “It’s a boring job, but somebody has to do it.”
“Yeah, well ... .” The more Rowan stared at the woman, the more uncomfortable she got. “Was there something you wanted to specifically talk about?”
“I was just saying hi. I wanted to make sure you were none the worse for wear after your binge last night.”
“I feel fine.”
“That’s good. I would hate for your reflexes to be delayed.”
A threat or a warning? Rowan couldn’t decide. “My reflexes are fine.” She moved to leave and then stilled. “You don’t seem to like your co-workers all that much. Have you ever considered changing professions?”
Darcy merely shrugged. “I have obligations to meet right now. That’s not really an option for me.”
“And in the future?”
“Who knows what the future will hold.”
It wasn’t an answer, and yet it was. Rowan was more convinced than ever that Darcy was somehow trapped in her current position. It might’ve made her naive, but Rowan believed the young woman really was trying to warn her. This was the only way she knew to do it.
“Well, if you want to show me more photos later, just let me know,” Rowan offered. “I’m sure we can carve out time to talk.”
“I’ll do that.”
11
Eleven
By the time lunch rolled around, Rowan was feeling much better. Quinn suggested a group lunch with Nick, Paul, and Fred at the tiki bar. He insisted Nick bring a map of the dive site so it looked as if they were working, and then related his conversation with Michael.
“I honestly don’t believe he knows anything,” he volunteered. “He seemed almost embarrassed on Spencer’s behalf.”
“It sounds to me as if Spencer has always been obsessed with the paranormal,” Fred noted as he leaned back in his chair, amusement lining his face as he watched Rowan attack the mountain of fried food on her plate. “I’m glad to see you still have an appetite despite everything that’s going on.”
“I’m fine.” Rowan dunked a battered mushroom in ranch dressing. “I feel a lot better. I have something to add to the conversation, too, but we’ll wait until Quinn is finished.”
Quinn offered her a crooked grin as he stole a fry from her plate and popped it in his mouth. All this fried food is going to give you heartburn if you’re not careful.”
“That’s what acid reducer is for. Besides, I already have heartburn from the gin last night.”
“I take it you’ll be foregoing alcohol for the remainder of the trip.”
“Yup.”
“Good girl.” He leaned over and kissed her temple, smoothing her hair as she held up a fried pickle for him.
“Your favorite,” she offered.
“You’re my favorite.” He bit into the pickle and then kissed her before he swallowed, causing her to laugh. He loved the sound and was thankful she could still make it despite everything going on.
“And you guys are back to being disgusting,” Fred lamented. “It’s a sickness. I swear.”
“We’re fools for love,” Quinn countered. “As for my conversation with Michael, I left feeling better than I did when I entered. I also want to research this Edgar Torrance guy. I figure there might be a lead in there, although I honestly have no idea what it would be.”
“I know a bit about that case,” Fred offered, taking everybody by surprise. “My mother lived about two blocks over when all this went down. She filled me in on all the gory details when I was overseas.”
“Really?” Quinn bit into his massive burger. “Tell me about it,” he prodded around a mouthful of food.
“Oh, how can you resist him with manners like that, Rowan?” Fred teased. “I can see why you fell in love with him.”
“I fell in love with his muscles,” Rowan countered, not missing a beat. “The eating habits were just a bonus because I eat the same way.”
“You certainly do,” Quinn agreed, sneaking a fried clam from her plate. He was thrilled her appetite was back. It only helped to cement the fact that the previous night’s meltdown was an aberration. She acted out of sorts because she was confused and afraid. That could’ve happened to anyone.
“As for Torrance, he was a sick piece of work,” Fred volunteered. “He was always weird, though. He was the guy in the neighborhood who went overboard for Halloween.”
Rowan made a face. “What’s wrong with that? When I have a place of my own, I’m going totally overboard with Halloween decorations. I have a ton of ideas.”
Quinn grinned at her. “Let me guess ... are they all based on horror movies?”
She bobbed her head. “Pretty much.”
“Somehow I knew that.”
“Yeah, but you’re cute and sassy and can get away with it,” Fred countered. “Torrance was a single guy in his forties at the time who put some of the goriest tableaus you’ve ever seen on his front lawn and then, when curious kids grouped around, he invited them in his house for private tours.”
Quinn lifted his head, surpr
ised. “He invited neighborhood kids into his home for private tours?”
“Yup.”
“Pedophile?”
“That I don’t know,” Fred hedged. “If he was, I never heard anything about it. He showed more interest in the girls than the boys, but once I read the stories about what was going down with him, that made sense for a different reason.”
“And what reason would that be?” Paul queried. “Just for the record, by the way, I can guarantee if some weird guy invited Rowan into his house for a private tour of anything when she was a kid, he’d be dead.”
“Yeah. I can’t imagine putting up with anything like that with a child of mine either,” Quinn agreed. “Still, we don’t know that he was a pedophile.”
“We do know he was a killer,” Paul stressed.
“There is that,” Fred agreed. “Anyway, he was caught through a fluke. One of the neighbors lost a cat and let himself into Torrance’s yard, was down on his hands and knees and happened to look through a basement window. The girls were all sitting in chairs — as if they were posed — and were long dead.”
Rowan was horrified by the picture he painted. “How were they posed?”
“Oh, don’t answer that,” Quinn muttered. “I just know it’s going to be gross.”
“They were tied to the arms of the chair, braces holding up their necks. It looked as if they were having a conversation.”
“Oh, geez.” Quinn rubbed his forehead. “That is worse than I thought. They weren’t like … nailed to the chairs or anything, were they?”
“No.” Fred shook his head. “They were tied, not impaled. The autopsy reports indicated they were dead long before they were tied to the chairs, too.”
Raging Seas (A Rowan Gray Mystery Book 9) Page 10