Krewe of Hunters, Volume 6: Haunted Destiny ; Deadly Fate ; Darkest Journey

by Heather Graham

  Alexi glanced at Clara. She could tell they were both wondering if Ginny hadn’t known exactly who Hank Osprey was from the beginning—and if she hadn’t planned to be at the craps table at exactly the right time.

  But if she made Hank happy, what did it matter?

  “That sounds very romantic,” she told them both.

  “Eyes meeting across a crowded room,” Clara murmured.

  “Yes!” Ginny said.

  Suddenly, they all realized a waitress was standing there.

  Hank quickly ordered for himself and Ginny. Ginny allowed him to, gazing at him with tender, approving eyes all the while.

  Alexi wondered if Jude was coming back soon.

  “How do you like sailing on the Destiny, Ginny?” Clara asked politely.

  Ginny giggled again and turned to Hank. “I couldn’t help but love it, could I?” she asked.

  “I guess not,” Clara murmured, meeting Alexi’s eyes.

  Silence fell. Neither Hank nor Ginny seemed to notice.

  “Um, what do you do for a living, Ginny?” Alexi asked.

  “Pardon?” Apparently, Ginny had to tear her gaze away from Hank in order to hear.

  “What do you do? Where are you from?” Alexi repeated.

  “Inquiring minds want to know,” Clara said lightly.

  “Oh, well… I’m a student,” Ginny said.

  “Where are you going to school?” Alexi asked.

  “Oh, I’m originally from Baton Rouge. I go to school in New Orleans. Loyola.”

  “Great school,” Clara said, nodding.

  “You went there, too?”

  “No, I went to Carnegie Mellon,” Clara told her. “But I’m from New Orleans. And I know Loyola well.”

  “Ginny’s in hospitality management,” Hank explained proudly. “She could probably tell your Celtic American execs a thing or two about how to run a ship!”

  “Oh,” Clara said. “What would you say to the executives at Celtic American, Ginny? What do you think could be improved?”

  Ginny laughed. “The infirmary—and that would be it. I went to get some Dramamine, and it took forever. Naturally, that was after we started getting the horrible weather. And I guess most cruise ships have one doctor and one nurse, so…oh, well. If I ran a cruise ship, I’d make sure there was more than one doctor on board.”

  “Poor Ginny was so sick! It was terrible. That’s why she wasn’t with me at the piano bar last night,” Hank said.

  “I begged him to go ahead without me,” Ginny said hastily. Maybe something in Clara’s and Alexi’s expressions told her they were thinking he shouldn’t have left her if she was that sick. She winced and grinned, almost at once. “I don’t… I really didn’t want Hank seeing me—Well, there’s no delicate way to put it. I didn’t want him to see me puking all over the place! It’s hideous. So ugly.”

  “You could never be ugly to me!” Hank vowed.

  Clara glanced at Alexi.

  “I wonder what’s taking Jude so long?” Clara murmured.

  * * *

  Lorna Antrim had gone straight to the infirmary, which was on the Promenade Deck, wedged between a perfume store and a cupcake shop and not far from the historic infirmary.

  She’d walked in immediately.

  Roger had followed her.

  Jude was twenty feet from the entrance, ready to follow them both, deciding to ask for a motion sickness remedy himself as an excuse—when the door opened and Roger stepped back into the hallway.

  He was scowling; he didn’t see Jude.

  For a long moment he stood staring at the display in the window of the cupcake store.

  He seemed to have blanked out.

  Then he walked over to the infirmary again and started to open the door.

  He didn’t.

  Instead, he walked into the hallway again and stood in front of the perfume store window.

  Jude waited a few minutes, then casually sauntered by.

  “Roger, is everything all right?” he asked.

  Roger turned and seemed to need a minute to focus. “What? Oh, yes. Well, you know, Lorna’s in the infirmary. I’m just hoping they can help her.”

  “I’m sure they will.”

  “I hope so. I asked about arranging for a helicopter to get us off the ship, but that’s a no-go. They’re not sending anything out in this weather. And…I offered a great deal of money.”

  “It’s going to be rough,” Jude said. “I’ll bet Lorna will be fine after they’ve given her something for the motion sickness. She’s a seasoned traveler.”

  “Yes, she is.” Roger was quiet for a minute. He shrugged. “At the moment, though, and I hate to say it, but I feel a bit like we’re on the Titanic. The ship’s rocking and rolling as if we were on an amusement park ride—zero to sixty in no time—and we’re all walking around, people shopping, eating, drinking, gambling as though nothing’s wrong. They don’t seem to notice that they walk down hallways—and then crash into them.”

  “We’re going to be fine,” Jude said in a comforting voice.

  “Well, I guess you would say that. You’re a CEO with Celtic American, right? But think of the liability if everything’s not fine,” Roger said.

  Frankly, Jude didn’t know a hell of a lot about being any kind of a CEO.

  He smiled. “Act of God,” he said with a shrug.

  “Oh, come on!”

  “Everything’s going to be fine,” Jude repeated. “We’re on a ship that’s survived war, mammoth storms and much more. We’re with a seasoned captain who knows the Caribbean better than a computer mapping program.”

  Roger studied him. “Of course, I’m not really frightened. I love sailing. I don’t mind a little pitch and sway. I guess I’m just worried about Lorna.”

  “I’ll see if I can hurry things along for her in the infirmary,” Jude said.

  He could see that David Beach’s security guard, assigned to keep an eye on Roger, was now in front of the cupcake shop.

  He walked into the infirmary.

  It was different from most of the ship; the nurses’ station and the triage area were all chrome and glass, and the floor was tiled, as it was in any modern hospital.

  About twenty people were crowded into the waiting room, some of them filling out papers.

  A sign on the nurses’ desk read, “If you’re seasick and you feel you need the doctor, please fill out your paperwork.”

  A harried nurse was reassuring the passengers and answering their questions, disappearing behind a door, then bustling back out again.

  Lorna sat in one of the waiting room chairs, her head resting against the wall. The woman next to her stood up as the nurse called her name, and Jude quickly slid into her seat.

  Lorna opened her eyes; after a second, she smiled. “Don’t worry. We’re not going to have our attorneys sue you,” she told him.

  She meant the Celtic American line, of course.

  “I’m not worried about being sued,” he said. “I’m worried about you.”

  “It’s just a little queasiness,” she said.

  “It’s more than that, isn’t it?” She closed her eyes again. He found himself admiring her. She kept herself fit; she was a very attractive woman who was embracing her age. He wasn’t an expert, but there were no telltale plastic surgery signs on her face. She looked over at him. “Are you married, Mr. McCoy?”

  “I was,” he replied. “I’m divorced.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “So am I. But under the circumstances, it was the best thing. For both of us. And I wish my ex every bit of happiness she can find.”

  “You’re a nice man,” Lorna said. She let out a sigh. “We’ve been married a very long time. Three children. F
ive grandchildren.”

  “A life well lived,” Jude said.

  She glanced at him, a slight smile curving her lips. “I’m hoping I still have a few years left, young man.”

  Jude laughed and apologized. “I just mean you two have used your years well. You both seem to have accomplished a lot.”

  “You’d think so, right?” Lorna remarked. “I didn’t make any millions, but…I do have beautiful children.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  “And they’re good people, too.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  He waited. There was no reason for her to trust him or confide in him. They’d only met a day ago; he’d spent time talking to her and Roger in the piano bar. And yet she seemed to trust him.

  “I just wonder if I haven’t become old hat,” she said.

  “Old hat?”

  “Tired, rusty, worn-out!” she said with a smile. “Of course, I’m a woman, so I see things a certain way. But it’s still a man’s world—I don’t care how many female rulers there’ve been. I’m talking about biology. Men might be able to procreate forever, while women have a set number of years during which they can have children. As the cliché has it, women get old, while men become distinguished.”

  “And bald, sometimes,” Jude reminded her.

  At least he’d made her smile.

  “Isn’t that supposed to prove a man has extra testosterone or something like that?” she asked, grinning.

  The nurse called her name. “Mrs. Antrim, if you’ll come with me…”

  Lorna turned back to Jude, who’d risen along with her. “Thank you, Mr. McCoy. Thank you for listening to me.” She hesitated briefly. “Did Roger send you in here?”

  “No. But I talked to him. He’s waiting for you outside. I came in to see how you’re doing, because I wanted to know.”

  He felt a tinge of guilt.

  I came to talk to you because your husband’s on a short list that might include the name of a serial killer.

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling again.

  “My pleasure. If you need anything, please let me know.”

  “Because you’re an exec?”

  “Because I like you.”

  She studied him for a second. “You mean that, don’t you? You mean you like me—and not my husband’s money. Thank you for that.”

  She went in to see the ship’s doctor. Jude opened the door for a woman and a little girl who were just leaving, and followed them out.

  Roger Antrim was nowhere to be seen.

  * * *

  “I’m just lucky, I guess,” Ginny said humbly.

  Hank had been going on and on, describing Ginny’s natural grace and her ability to dance. “My family originally came from Virginia and West Virginia. They did all those reels and square dances and stuff. Maybe that’s why I love to dance, whatever kind of dancing it is.”

  Alexi smiled—wondering if her smile had gone completely plastic.

  “You’re lucky,” Clara said. “I have to work at every step.”

  “Isn’t she wonderful?” Hank asked, looking besotted.

  “Lovely,” Alexi agreed.

  “Absolutely!” Clara chimed in.

  To Alexi’s relief, Jude was coming back into the sushi restaurant. He smiled at the hostess and exchanged a few words with her.

  The ship rolled heavily portside, but Jude didn’t appear to notice; he seemed to balance instinctively and continued to walk toward them.

  “Hello,” he said to Hank and Ginny, pulling up an extra chair.

  “Hello, Mr. McCoy.” Hank stood up to shake his hand.

  “It’s just Jude.”

  “And I’m just Hank. This is Ginny. I’m not sure if you two have officially met.

  “Jude,” Ginny said sweetly, offering him her hand.

  “Hi, Ginny.”

  To Alexi’s mind, Ginny had offered that hand as a queen might—expecting her royal subject to kiss it.

  Jude didn’t.

  He shook it briefly, taking his seat. “So, how are you two faring?” he asked.

  “Ginny was a little ill,” Hank said.

  “I’m fine now.”

  “The fact is, she was very ill. But she’s fine now,” Hank said. “My poor girl! Ah, well, good to spend time with all of you—and we’ll see you at the piano bar tonight, Alexi.” He stood up and Ginny did, too. “We’ll leave you to your privacy,” he said and then inclined his head, grinning. “That sounded polite, didn’t it? Actually, I’m itching to go into the casino. Ginny brings me luck!”

  “So he says. He plays craps. I hardly know what’s going on,” Ginny said. “But I like standing there with him.”

  “May the fortunes of the sea be with you,” Jude said.

  “Lots of luck!” Alexi added.

  “Ditto,” Clara said.

  When they were gone, Alexi moaned, “Oh, my God!”

  “What?” Jude asked.

  “Not to be crass, but…yuck!” Clara said. “If I had to listen to one more word about the wonders of Ginny…”

  Alexi laughed. “If we had to watch them mooning over each other one more minute…”

  “They just met, didn’t they?” Jude asked.

  “Yeah, on the ship,” Alexi replied.

  Clara smirked. “Their eyes met—across a crowded craps table.”

  “She’s beautiful, she’s oh, so perfect,” Alexi said.

  “And he, of course, is the studliest, most macho man she’s ever seen,” Clara said. “Now, I have to say I hope he’s not being taken, but—”

  “Well, wait,” Alexi broke in. “If she’s taking him, so to speak, and intends to keep him, that’s great. Hank needs someone.”

  “She’s making him pay for her,” Clara said softly.

  “Pardon?” Jude asked, frowning.

  “She’s a very pretty girl,” Alexi said, stating the obvious. “Hank is nice and he’s brilliant—but he’s not firemen-calendar or NFL-quarterback good-looking. Plus, he’s awkward with women.”

  “In other words,” Clara said. “We believe she found his eyes so fascinating because she knew exactly who he is.”

  Jude grinned at them. “Well, that hadn’t missed my attention, either. She is indeed a very pretty girl, but he’s not such a pretty man.”

  “What I’m saying is this. If Hank wants to buy happiness and she wants to provide it, then that’s a fair exchange,” Alexi said.

  Clara looked at her watch. “I have to be in the theater for a sound check. Want to walk me there?” she asked Jude.

  “Will do,” he said, rising. “Let me go take care of what we owe.”

  Alexi set a hand on his arm, stopping him for a moment. “What about Roger? And Lorna?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Midlife crisis on someone’s part? Or something worse? I don’t really know yet.”

  He left to pay the check, then returned to Alexi and Clara, looking somewhat stumped. “We have no check. Hank Osprey paid it,” he said.

  “Well, that was—nice?” Clara suggested.

  “I don’t like other people picking up my bills.”

  “Hmm,” Alexi said to Clara. “I’m willing to bet he was trying to pick up the check for all the sushi we ordered—and he’s annoyed because Hank beat him to it!”

  “All right, all right, point taken,” Jude muttered. “Except that…’

  “What?” Alexi asked.

  “I’m not a suspect in a series of murders—which he still is at the moment, making it very uncomfortable that he picked up the check,” he said. “Shall we go? It’s time to get Clara to her rehearsal.”

  “Why does even that sound ominous?” Clara asked.

 
* * *

  Jude dropped Clara off at rehearsal and brought Alexi back to her room; she promised she’d wait for him there, and he promised he’d be back in plenty of time so she could settle in and get organized for the night ahead.

  He told Jackson about the scene between Roger and Lorna, and how Hank and Ginny had been with them at the sushi table.

  “What do you think? Is Ginny in trouble—or is she taking advantage of Hank Osprey?” Jackson asked. “I’ll get Angela on it, see what she can find out regarding Ginny Monk.”

  Jude shrugged in response and found himself studying Jackson curiously.

  “What is it?”

  “None of my business, probably,” Jude murmured.

  “Well, whatever it is, I’d rather you spoke than stared at me.”

  “Okay. How exactly did you end up on this case?” Jude asked. “I understood from the beginning that you’re with a special unit of the bureau. But your special unit comes in when there’s something unusual about a case. When there’s an unexplained element. Or a special request. Not that this case isn’t top priority right now, but still…you’re from this ‘special’ unit in the Quantico office. There are excellent agents all over the country—not to mention profilers and behavioral scientists—studying the case. So…why the Krewe of Hunters?”

  Jackson Crow had been focused on his computer screen. Now he gave Jude his full attention. Jude wondered about his background. Had Crow spoken to someone he’d later discovered was dead? Or had his relationship with the lingering souls of the dead begun as it had for Alexi, something he had somehow known and accepted from the time he was a child?

  “Angela and I were away for a weekend vacation eight months ago,” he began. “In Charleston, South Carolina. We were staying at a bed-and-breakfast with a charming courtyard. Our room opened onto the courtyard, and I went outside in the morning, just to see the sunrise. The courtyard started to fill with light—and that’s when Peggy Carlyle came to me.”

  “Peggy Carlyle, the first victim,” Jude said.

  “As we later learned. She appeared suddenly, as if she was part of the light. She wore a beautiful white dress.”

  “But, of course, she was dead.”

  Jackson nodded slowly. “She was fragile, barely noticeable, like dust motes on the air. I was almost afraid to speak, in case she just disappeared. The doors to our room opened and Angela came out, smiling, happy, excited. She loves Charleston and that particular B and B. But she stopped, seeing what I saw. And she whispered to the young woman, asking if we could help her. Peggy looked lost, entirely lost. And then she disappeared. The next week we were back at our offices in Northern Virginia when we heard that the body of a young woman, draped with a saint’s medallion, had been found in a church near the bed-and-breakfast. I knew it was her. Peggy was a graphic artist and the medallion around her neck was St. Catherine’s. Patron saint of artists, as you’ll recall… The police were on it, and naturally they wanted the case to be under local jurisdiction, but I was able to obtain the crime scene photos—and then those of the next murder, also in Charleston. I knew I had to get myself assigned to the case. Then, while we were investigating leads, the killer moved on. Four women were killed in South Florida, and while we were following leads there, he struck in Mobile. I believed the Archangel was speeding up, and that he might well hit New Orleans next. It just seemed to fit his pattern. And you know the rest.”