Chapter 6
Standing portside at the bow, Farren watched Marmaris grow bigger as they approached. Pine-covered hills under a hazy blue sky sloped down to the water’s edge. Deep, clear water shimmered turquoise in the sunlight. Marmaris Bay opened to a bustling shoreline and Netsel Marina. Masts and sails painted a picturesque foreground. She could see the remains of the city’s infamous Ottoman castle to her left, surrounded by the original restored buildings of historic Marmaris.
The yacht sailed into the marina. Farren scanned the maze of boats, searching for one called Lucky, but it was impossible to read all their names. Travis maneuvered Rapture so the stern backed to the dock between two other yachts. She slid her hand along the rail as she walked, searching. Banners and flags signified the location of the boat show at the municipality quay, where charter companies and brokers would flaunt their best models.
Casual but elegantly dressed women and men wandered the marina. More milled along the docks, on and off the boats on display. It was such a happy environment. Happy but tinged with the stench of too much money. She was beginning to hate money.
Oh, how she missed her house in Maine.
“Will you come with me to register?”
She turned to see Elam standing in tan slacks and a short-sleeved white golf shirt, his chocolate hair waving in a slight breeze, eyes hidden by sunglasses.
“For appearances,” he added.
Right. “Sure. Fine.” Looking down at her sundress, she wondered if she should change.
“You look good.”
His words came unexpected and made her jerk her gaze back to him. Their farewell kiss floated through her, followed by what had almost occurred last night. She lowered her eyes and went to him.
“Put this somewhere on your body.”
She looked at his palm and took the small, chiplike device from him. “What is it?”
“A GPS receiver with a transmitter.”
She raised her eyebrows at him.
“In case I lose you.”
“You’re afraid you might?”
“No.” He hesitated. “Yes.”
No, because he was confident in his abilities. Yes, because he didn’t want the tragedies of his past to repeat. If something happened to her, he’d have to carry that with him along with his other losses. She looked down at her sundress. No pockets. She glanced at Elam as she tucked the device inside her bra. His eyes heated a little as he watched her. Then he extended his hand.
As she took it, her system suffered another jolt as he led her to the stern and off the yacht.
Walking beside him on the dock, Farren tried to focus on the array of elegant yachts and the people they carried. But Elam’s presence surrounded her, warmed her. A beautiful woman in a black one-piece swimsuit with a sheer black sarong wrapped around her held a flute of champagne and looked at them as they passed. Her thick black hair was clipped in a messy pile on top of her head and she wore dark lipstick.
Beyond that yacht, Farren saw another moving through the water. She barely caught sight of the name.
Lucky.
She gave Elam’s hand a tug. He looked with her but the yacht disappeared in the tangle of other vessels.
“Yeah, we saw it,” Elam said.
Farren looked at him. He sounded like he was talking on a phone but he wasn’t holding one.
He grinned and tapped his ear.
She realized he was wearing an inconspicuous earpiece and was talking to the crew on Rapture.
“We’ll get a closer look,” he said. “See if we can spot the Sea Minstrel, too.”
Elam guided her to the registration desk. After filling out some paperwork, they walked back along the dock.
“Haley says Lucky docked somewhere along here,” Elam said.
Farren spotted the sleek lines of the yacht almost at the same time. “There.” She gestured with her head.
He put his hand on her lower back and guided her closer. He slowed his pace, making her do the same.
No one was on deck. Farren thought she caught movement inside the salon. Someone came out on deck but disappeared along the portside.
“Let’s head back,” Elam said.
They had to walk along the shore to reach their dock, passing a line of shops and kiosks on their way, weaving around the throng of people.
Back aboard Rapture, she followed Elam to the flybridge, where Travis held a pair of binoculars and Haley crouched low with a camera, clicking pictures. Keenan pretended to be working on deck, but it was obvious to Farren he was on the lookout for anything suspicious.
“We found Sea Minstrel,” Travis said, handing Elam the binoculars. “Two docks over from Lucky.” He pointed.
Elam searched with the binoculars. When he stopped moving them, Farren knew he found it.
“Haven’t seen anyone yet,” Travis said.
Haley straightened. “Someone’s on the deck of Lucky.” She snapped pictures. “Wait a minute…He looks familiar.” She lowered the camera and looked at the display.
Elam leaned closer. Farren moved to Haley’s other side.
She recognized the man. “That’s Congressman Shay.”
Haley and Elam shot gazes her way and Travis took the binoculars from Elam to seek out the congressman’s yacht.
“My ex-fiancé spoke about him,” Farren said. “Colin Shay visits third-world countries to speak out about his anti-terrorist views. Payton said he’s in-your-face religious, too. Catholic.”
Haley looked from Travis to Elam.
“Did your ex-fiancé know him?” Haley asked her.
Farren shook her head. “No. He just mentioned him. He talked politics all the time.” It had made her nauseous. “He talked about a lot of politicians, too. I just remember Shay because he seemed more aggressive than the others.”
“I’ll confirm his ID. Isn’t it interesting that Carolyn Fenning was going to meet a congressman?”
“Especially since her husband was selling arms to terrorists,” Travis said, lowering his binoculars. “Very interesting indeed.”
“Maybe she learned what her husband was doing,” Farren said. “Someone like Congressman Shay could help her.”
“Why not just go to the police?”
“Maybe she knew Shay,” Elam said. “Trusted him.”
“Why come all the way to Marmaris for help?” Haley challenged.
“And start out in Bodrum,” Elam said.
The three fell into silent speculation.
“Maybe we should talk to him,” Farren said.
“You and Elam should,” Travis said. “Let’s keep our cover intact. We’ve got a good view of the yacht from here. We’ll have your back if anything goes wrong.”
Farren’s heart pulsed in an anxious rhythm as she stepped aboard Lucky behind Elam.
“Are you sure we should be doing this?” she asked.
“Worst thing he’ll do is ask us to leave,” he said.
Passing tan chairs and a glass-topped dining table, she stopped with Elam at the salon door. Inside she could see a curving white leather couch and built-in entertainment center. Beyond that, a woman and two teenage children, a boy and a girl, sat at a dining table. The woman looked at least a decade younger than the congressman.
Elam knocked on the glass door. The woman looked over and stood. Reaching the door, she slid it open and looked from Farren to Elam. “Yes?”
“Is Congressman Shay aboard?” Elam asked.
“Who are you?”
“We’re here at the festival and noticed he was, too. We’d just like to say hello.”
“Just a minute.” She closed the door and went to speak to her children. They left the dining area and she followed.
“What do you want?”
Farren jumped and turned to her right. A man armed with a pistol stood there. Another appeared from the starboard side.
“What are you doing aboard this yacht?” the first one demanded.
Elam repeated what he’d told the w
oman.
“The congressman isn’t taking visitors right now. If you give me your names, I’ll pass the information along.”
“We’d rather—”
“It’s all right, Edward. I’ll see them.”
Farren faced a tall, fiftyish man with salt-and-pepper hair cropped close to his head and hazel eyes surrounded by fine-lined skin. He walked around the other security guard. He had a slight paunch around the middle.
“Have a seat.” The congressman indicated the outdoor table. He nodded to the guard standing on the starboard side, who disappeared inside the salon.
Farren sat beside Elam, across from the congressman, eyeing the guard named Edward. He stood in the shadows, leaning against the side of the yacht on the first step leading to the upper deck.
“What brings you here?” the congressman asked. He had clever eyes that didn’t hide his curiosity over their purpose. “You didn’t come to the festival just to see me, did you?”
“We were in the area,” Elam answered cagily. “I’m Elam Rhule and this is Farren Gage.”
The congressman turned his gaze to Farren and studied her. After a moment, he returned his look to Elam. “Am I supposed to know you?”
“Farren’s mother was recently shot and killed. Her name was Carolyn Fenning. We were wondering if you knew anything about her death.”
The congressman went still, but only for a second. He looked at Farren, then back at Elam. “What makes you think I would know her?”
“She wrote the name of this yacht festival and your yacht on her itinerary,” Farren said. “She also included a date and time. It seemed to me she was planning to meet someone here.”
The congressman met her gaze and she had to stop herself from fidgeting. He wasn’t an easily intimidated man and the way he studied her made her uncomfortable.
“I don’t know a Carolyn Fenning. But I’m very sorry for your loss, Ms. Gage,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle.
“I barely knew her,” Farren answered, keeping her tone even. “It’s hard to think of it as a loss. She abandoned me to marry a man who hated children. I grew up in a foster home.”
He seemed to contemplate that for a moment. “Then what brings you halfway around the world on a quest for answers about her death?”
“She left me all her money. I find that strange, since she didn’t care enough to keep me.”
“Yes, I can see how that would raise some questions. Again, I’m sorry, Ms. Gage. I wish I could help you. I don’t know why your mother wrote the name of this yacht.”
Farren glanced at Elam, uncertain what to say next. He took her silent cue and faced the congressman. “Did you charter this yacht, Mr. Shay?”
“No. It belongs to my father,” he answered. “But we try to keep that secret. Publicity and all.”
“Quite a coincidence that Carolyn wrote the name of this particular yacht on her itinerary, don’t you think?” Elam pressed.
“Coincidence or not, I can’t tell you why she wrote it.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?” Elam said.
The congressman’s eyes flared with anger. “I came here with my family, Mr. Rhule. Why would I plan to meet a woman here, at an international yacht festival?”
“She chartered her own yacht in Bodrum,” Farren said. “She planned to sail here.”
The congressman only looked at her.
“Maybe you planned to sneak out a night or two to be with her,” Elam said.
“In such a public environment? I’d have to be a fool.”
“Were you having an affair with Carolyn Fenning?” Elam asked anyway.
“No.”
“Then maybe you had a different reason for wanting her to meet you here.”
“You’re beginning to try my patience, Mr. Rhule.”
“Were you doing business with her?”
“I told you I don’t know a Carolyn Fenning. And I don’t appreciate what you’re insinuating. I wasn’t planning to cheat on my wife, and I don’t have any other reason for asking another woman to meet me here. Now, I think I’ll have to ask you to leave.” He stood and motioned for his security guard to come forward.
The man did, and stood with his hand on the gun holstered at his waist, looking at Elam expectantly.
Elam stood, so Farren did, too.
“One more question, Congressman,” Elam said. “Does the name Imaad al Rasoon mean anything to you?”
“Should it?”
“With your reputation as a crusader against terrorism, I’d have a hard time believing it doesn’t.”
“Who the hell are you?” the congressman demanded.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Who sent you?”
“I’m just a concerned American citizen who came to be with his girlfriend.” He slid his arm around Farren’s waist, grinning in a taunting way. Then he guided her off the yacht.
On the dock he stopped and looked at the congressman. Farren looked with him. Shay still stood at the table, watching them with a crease of tension above his nose.
“He’s lying,” she whispered as they walked down the dock.
“If I were a congressman with his reputation, I wouldn’t want news of my mistress reaching the press, either. Especially since she was murdered and her husband was in the middle of an arms deal with a terrorist.”
“You think they were having an affair?”
“Yes. But what I don’t get is why she planned to come all the way here to meet him.”
“Yeah. Maybe she was trying to run away, get as far from her husband as she could. Maybe Congressman Shay was the only one she knew who could help her, and this was the safest place to meet him.”
“That would be my guess, too.”
The next day, Elam walked beside Farren along a dock at the boat show. All around them were expensive, extravagant yachts and did she notice any of them? Nope.
“I was just minding my own business at the bookstore…” He’d been listening to her chatter for about a half hour now. Sometimes he paid attention. Most of the time he didn’t. She wasn’t saying anything he couldn’t keep up with by half-listening. No hidden meaning in her endless monologue this time. She was just talking about the woman who’d interrupted her to discuss a book she planned to buy.
“Pretty soon she was telling me about her son, how he was diagnosed with leukemia when he was fifteen and ended up dying. That’s when I realized she was reaching out to me. We went to have coffee and talked the rest of the afternoon.”
He smiled because he could see her doing something like that. Farren was a chatterbox and at first glance seemed to make blonde jokes a reality, but deep down she had an amazing heart and an even more amazing mind.
“She’s one of my closest friends now.”
Just then a tall, thin man with dark hair caught his attention. He was standing near one of the food kiosks, doing a bad job of trying to fit in with the crowd. His white shirt tucked into khaki pants looked expensive, but his untrimmed beard and flitting gaze gave him away. Elam recognized him from the photo Odie had sent. It was Imaad al Rasoon.
Elam pretended not to notice him and went with Farren to a booth that sold tea. She bought a container of apple tea. He wondered if he should have left her back on the yacht, but he felt better when he had her in his sight. Nobody’d get past him to hurt her. He’d make sure of that.
“This is popular tea here,” she said as they moved away.
“I know.” He covertly checked Imaad’s whereabouts and saw him following.
“I wonder if it’s just a tourist ploy,” she went on. “Do the locals really drink this stuff as part of a tradition?”
“I’m sure they do. Meryem served it.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s decaffeinated, can you believe that?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Farren gave his shoulder a playful slap. “You’re not listening.”
He smiled, not having to pretend, and glad she wasn’t, either.
“Let me
guess, you don’t drink tea,” she said.
“I don’t drink tea.”
“Is there anything you like? Or are you just a machine with skin?”
“I enjoy lots of things.”
“Like what?”
He smiled. “You.”
That stunned her for a second. “You do not. Come on, what things do you enjoy?”
He could tell she was flirting and damn if he didn’t like it. “I don’t know. Most anything, I guess.”
“When you have time,” she mimicked.
“Contrary to what you think, I do like movies and music.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Are you trying to convince me that you’re normal? That sounds almost normal.”
“You don’t think I’m normal?”
“You kill people for a living.”
“I stop evil people from hurting innocent ones.”
“Noble, but still not normal.”
“Is that what you’re looking for? Someone normal?”
She looked ahead of them as they walked. “Yeah, I guess so.” But she scrunched up her mouth as though the notion didn’t appeal to her. “That seems so boring all of a sudden.”
“Nothing about you is boring.” He checked behind them, pretending to look at a kiosk full of hats as they passed. Imaad still followed.
“Really?”
“Really.” He put his hand on her lower back and steered her onto a yacht.
“What about me isn’t boring to you?”
“Pretend like you’re into this yacht,” Elam said brusquely.
She glanced around at the cold interior, white furniture accented by a stiff flower arrangement and little else. “That’s going to be hard.”
He chuckled.
“What are we doing aboard this terrible waste of good money?” she asked.
A woman wearing a shirt with a yacht charter logo eyed them with distaste.
“You just insulted the saleswoman,” he said.
She fingered a spindly branch of the flower arrangement. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Heiress Under Fire Page 9