by Ghost Night
The first day was easy; it was getting to know the boat, the equipment and one another.
The boats met up at about 4:30 p.m., and tied on together—Sean wanted footage taken on board that night. He and David took turns in front of the camera, describing the voyage and their plans, and the film taken would be edited in with the shots they’d taken of leaving port that morning.
Jamie O’Hara had a portable barbecue grill that extended from the boat’s hull, and that night, the Claddagh’s crew was responsible for dinner. While Jamie and David barbecued, Katie and Bill prepared salads and green beans. Barry kept the camera going as they cooked and the group settled around to eat.
He took beautiful shots as the sun fell.
Vanessa enjoyed dinner; they all piled aboard the hull and deck of the Claddagh for their first major meal together, and she sat back with Katie, enjoying the light sway of the boat in the still night. That morning, the nightmare had all but faded away, and yet she was left to wonder if she had really seen Carlos Roca, if her dreams weren’t some kind of a warning.
And if she should tell Sean that she had seen him.
But everyone seemed to think that he had to be guilty. If she told anyone else at all—even Sean—and he appeared again somewhere, someone might shoot to kill.
She had to have imagined Carlos.
Except that she hadn’t imagined a dead pirate.
Odd, but true.
And Bartholomew was there. He hadn’t come across to the Claddagh. He stood at the bow of the Conch Fritter, just looking out over the sea. She wondered what he was thinking or feeling, or if—without flesh and substance—he couldn’t feel, and yet she thought that he could. She decided then that the soul had to consist of both intelligence and the heart, and it was rather sad, because pain could then remain long after death.
Marty played his guitar and sang on deck, and Katie joined him. Bill and Zoe engaged in a game of chess. Jamie, Liam, David and Sean closed themselves away in the cabin of the Claddagh for about an hour, planning and charting, and when they were through, Vanessa was ready to return to the Conch Fritter and head into bed.
It was nice to sleep with the captain, she decided. The master cabin very comfortable. Marty was given the convertible couch in the main cabin, while Ted and Jaden were portside and Jay and Zoe were in the slim bunks on the starboard side.
Vanessa went to bed by herself because Sean took first watch on the Conch Fritter while Liam took first watch on the Claddagh.
Watches were in four-hour shifts. As she curled comfortably into the master cabin’s bed, Vanessa realized that the schedule for watch duty included everyone—but someone in Sean’s group would be on one of the decks at all times.
Did he distrust someone he had hired on? she wondered. Or was he always that careful and wary?
She thought about Jay wanting to sell their film; a major distributor could mean really decent money, and she knew that he needed the money—and that he still had dreams of producing and directing his own films.
It just disturbed her.
She stared at the small table by the bed that held a reading lamp. She noticed that there was a newspaper there, beneath one of Sean’s books. She glanced at the book and noticed that it was on the numerous wrecks in the area. She pulled out the newspaper beneath it.
The headline on the page read, “Missing!”
Beneath it was a picture of two couples standing on a dock. They wore white casual boating clothes and hats, and they were all older, attractive people with happy smiles.
Sean had told her about more disappearances. Disappearances in the area. She scanned the article. Both Mark Houghton and Dale Johnson were experienced captains. They loved traveling together, and though they had made more distant trips, they were sun and warm-water people and set off every couple of months together to tour a part of the Caribbean.
They enjoyed camping on Haunt Island.
She winced and set the article down. She’d been so busy lately that she hadn’t seen anything on the disappearance. Of course Sean had known about it.
There had always been disappearances. But now this. A year after the Delphi.
Two years after the murders of Travis and Georgia.
She closed her eyes and tried to sleep.
A while later, she felt Sean crawling in beside her, and she sidled up against the warmth of his naked length and lay awake for a very long time.
The sun was rising in the east.
It was almost morning, almost time for their first dive as a complete crew.
She wondered if she was afraid.
No, Vanessa thought. She wasn’t afraid of diving. She wasn’t afraid of figureheads in the water, or even the absurdity of her dreams.
She was afraid of reaching Haunt Island.
13
The dive that morning was beautiful and uneventful. They went down to several of the wrecks on the Shipwreck Trail in Biscayne National Park. Reefs were beautiful, and though modern technology helped, ships and boats still had to be wary. The Alicia, built in Scotland, had slammed into the Ajax reef and the outline of the ship hosted a massive ecosystem of brilliantly colored fish, rays, nurse sharks, groupers and more. It was a beautiful wreck to film, and it was one that Vanessa had filmed before. They had shot scenes of their characters off enjoying themselves before they had stumbled upon the legend and the horror of the ghosts who had come back to tear them to shreds.
That afternoon, they docked at Dinner Key in Miami, since they would begin the voyage across the straits—in the Bermuda Triangle—to reach Haunt Island in the morning. They had a late lunch at Monty’s on the water, and after, Sean announced that they were all welcome to do what they wished as long as they were aboard and ready to leave again first thing in the morning.
Vanessa was surprised when Sean suggested that she and Katie and whoever else wanted to should explore the area, go to a club, do something enjoyable.
He didn’t tell her what he had planned. She decided to ask him point-blank—they were supposed to be trusting one another.
“So? Where are you going, what are you up to?” she asked him.
Sean hesitated. “I’m off to see a Coast Guard friend of Liam’s,” he told her.
“I should come,” she said.
He shook his head. “He’s told us that they didn’t get anything.”
“Then why are you seeing him?”
“Because I’m hoping to trigger something. Spend the afternoon and evening with Zoe and Katie—and whoever you wish. Jamie won’t leave his boat, and Marty has determined that he’s going to keep watch over the Conch Fritter. Ted and Jaden have some friends to see. So…Katie will stick with you like glue,” he said.
She frowned. “I don’t need to be careful here, do I?”
“You need to be careful everywhere,” he assured her. “Just stay in public places, and call me if anything disturbs you at all. At all—okay?”
As the others left one by one, Jay told Vanessa, “I have an idea.”
She groaned. “I don’t think I want to hear any more of your ideas.”
He grimaced. “There’s a beautiful little park just north of here, and it has great views of the bay and bridges and downtown Miami. I’d like to take some footage of you there, talking about the time we spent in Miami, and how this had been Georgia’s destination the night she—died.”
She started to protest. Katie was at her side. “Actually, it doesn’t sound like a terrible idea,” she said. “We can grab a cab and get there while it’s still daylight. And it’s not the Keys, but it’s a beautiful day, and it should be fine footage. I’ll go with you,” Katie assured her.
“And I’ll come,” Zoe said.
“Hey, Barry, Ted—Bill. What are you doing tonight?”
“There’s a theater up the street,” Bill said. “I thought I’d take in a movie—okay, and do some barhopping in Coconut Grove.”
“Barry?” Vanessa asked.
He smiled. “The barhopp
ing sounded good to me, too.”
Jake told them, “I’ll come with you. I guess we need two cabs, though.”
“No big deal, it’s right down the street,” Jay told them.
They left the restaurant and easily hailed cabs.
The park was beautiful. There were wide-open spaces, and areas for volleyball, little pavilions for picnics and separations that were composed of overgrown trees and rich foliage. Beautiful bougainvillea crawled over the pavilions, and majestic oaks vied with palms. They were on a deepwater channel, but the view of the water was spectacular, and as they arrived, the colorful lights of downtown Miami were just beginning to grace the skyscrapers in the distance.
Jay found the perfect place for her to stand. She was on a small mound with bougainvillea and the richness of the foliage to her left as she faced him while a view of the water, the bridge and downtown were just over her shoulder.
Jay set her up where he wanted her and gave her directions. She told him that they hadn’t come up with any kind of a script and he told her just to talk. She’d seen Sean do it, easily and naturally, and she tried to emulate what he did. Actually, it was easy. She just talked.
“One more time,” Jay told her. “And…action.”
She started to talk.
She looked at Zoe, who smiled at her with a thumbs-up gesture. Katie nodded, as well.
The sun was setting in the west, away from the water. The sky was beautiful and the night was balmy. She looked toward the foliage near the entry of the park, and she fell silent.
There he was.
He was in jeans, a T-shirt and a windbreaker. His hair was long, but he had shaved the beard.
Carlos Roca.
He stood on the path, watching her.
He beckoned to her.
But then he saw the others start to stare at Vanessa in her sudden, still silence, and twist to see what had caused her reaction.
He turned his back and moved quickly down the path to the right, into the concealment of the rich foliage.
“Vanessa, I just wanted one more take!” Jay said. “What’s the matter with you?”
Vanessa ignored him.
And ran after Carlos Roca.
They met Andy Jimena at the yacht club where the Coast Guardsman kept a membership. It was beautiful, on the bay, and afforded a view of a host of sailboats and pleasure craft. Jimena was an experienced officer who had been with the patrol boat asked in by the Bahamian government. He was fifty, graying and still as sturdy as a rock.
He and his crew had arrived on the island late in the afternoon after the heads and arms of the murder victims had been found onshore.
“I don’t know how much I need to tell you all about the way the sea and the sand can hide evidence, or how deep the channel can be in places and how wind and weather can wreck anything on the sand. I’m telling you, here were the problems—the sand on the beach by the victims was dead dry. There were no prints. No footprints whatsoever. Obviously, someone put those bodies there. We found some smashed bracken nearby and further inland, so I’m assuming that Travis was murdered earlier, and that the killer was either Carlos Roca and he came back with Georgia, killed her, too, cut up the bodies and escaped in the night, or—there had been someone else on the island, that person had a boat, maybe something really small, got in, killed Travis, pirated Carlos Roca, killed him and the actress, and went back to pose the bodies.”
“What about the people on the island?” Sean asked him.
Jimena shrugged. “They all looked as if they were shell-shocked. Lewis Sanderson, a Bahamian national and guide, was with them, and he was in control but equally horrified. The tents the film crew slept in were all near one another. Apparently, they’d been working all day, work was over, they were about to split open some champagne, and Georgia came down the beach screaming. Sanderson said that he walked down the beach with Jay Allen and Vanessa Loren and that they found nothing—except that someone had been digging in the sand, right where the heads and arms were found later. We searched the shoreline and the surrounding water. We sent out divers. We never found the rest of the bodies, Carlos Roca or the boat. Bahamian officials questioned everyone on that island, and although it’s a sovereign country, the Bahamians invited the FBI in and their men questioned everyone involved, as well.”
“So what did you believe in the end?” Liam asked him.
“Let’s see…one woman told me that alien monsters lived in the Bermuda Triangle and that they rose from the depths to kill. But that’s not what I believe. I believe that the most logical answer is that Carlos Roca killed the actor—Travis—and came back to camp and behaved normally. Then he left with the girl, killed her, came back and staged the scene—and disappeared himself. It might have been hard for him at first. But there are a lot of places where you can go by boat, and I don’t care how any government or law-enforcement group tries—there are just miles and miles and miles of coast around here, along Florida and in the Caribbean. It’s possible to disappear. And after a few years, he could establish a new name, and eventually, people would forget to look for him.”
“What about the others on the island?” Sean persisted. Jimena frowned, having answered the question once.
“We’re working with what was left of that crew now. I’d like to know what you thought of all of them—and if you think it was possible that whoever carried out those murders had an accomplice,” Sean explained.
Jimena arched his brows. “Well…I suppose it’s possible. It seemed to me that they were all in reach of one another, but…I suppose you’d have to ask them all if they’re really certain they were all together at the times when it occurred. I know that when the investigations took place, no one suspected the survivors of being guilty.”
“That doesn’t mean that they weren’t,” David said quietly.
“Well, no, of course not. All I can tell you is that it was…clean, if that makes sense. There were no mounds of drying blood. There were no footprints, no fingerprints, and there wasn’t a murder weapon to be found, and they had to have been chopped to pieces. We searched for the boat and never found it. If you’re out with that crew and you’re the least bit suspicious, well—I’d keep one hell of a good eye on them.” Solid, experienced man that Jimena was, he shuddered. “That was one hell of a scene on Haunt Island. One hell of a scene.”
Soon after, they left Jimena, thanking him for his help.
“I think there’s something we should start doing,” Sean said as he, David and Liam headed back.
Liam looked at him sharply.
“I’ve charted a number of recent disappearances. I think we might want to make another chart and do some comparisons. You’re the only one with the contacts to do it, Liam,” Sean told him.
“All right. What am I doing?” Liam asked.
Sean explained.
“Vanessa! Vanessa!”
It was natural, of course, that the others ran after her.
She ignored them at first, running as fast as she could to the path, and then frantically searching the smaller trails among the foliage, hoping against hope that she would find Carlos, that he would be alive and real, and ready to tell her the truth about what had happened—including the fact that he was innocent.
But Carlos was nowhere to be found, and she was left on a path, frustrated and breathless.
A twig snapped behind her and she jumped, suddenly aware that the sun had fallen, she was in the midst of bushes—and she was supposed to be careful and wary.
She spun around.
It was Jay.
He was angry.
He held the camera at his side. It slapped against his leg.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.
He took a step toward her. In her life, she had never been afraid of Jay. She reminded herself that she had known him forever. He was the little kid her own age who lived down the street.
But she stepped back.
Jay started to lift the camera. She
had the bizarre fear that he was about to crash it down on her head.
But Zoe came running down the path, crashing into Jay’s back. And Jake was right behind Zoe.
“Hey!” Jake said, trying to defuse the situation. Apparently, Jake realized that Jay was really angry.
“Vanessa!” Zoe gasped.
Katie came running from the other direction. She was armed.
She held a giant stick in her hand.
“Vanessa, oh, thank God!” Katie breathed.
“What in hell were you doing?” Jay demanded, still angry.
She opened her mouth. She didn’t want to tell anyone about Carlos. Especially not Jay. Not at that moment.
“I was imagining things,” she said. “Silly. Ridiculous. I—I thought I saw Dona Isabella standing here.”
“What?” Jay exclaimed.
Zoe gasped. “What?”
“It’s ridiculous. I’m a little unnerved, I guess. Finding a corpse, finding out the corpse was stolen. I’m sorry, guys, really, I saw a lady standing here and thought it was Dona Isabella. Actually, I scared the poor woman half to death. She was a young Cuban woman, strikingly beautiful, just like Dona Isabella,” Vanessa said. The lying was coming too easily, but then, she had thought once that she’d seen Dona Isabella, or she did see her often, her face carved as a figurehead, in her dreams… Maybe reality and imagination were blending so that the line was barely there anymore, this lie was coming so easily.
“Oh, Lord, oh, Lord!” Zoe exclaimed, horrified.
Maybe she should have said that she’d seen Carlos Roca. Jay was staring at her as if she was crazy, and Zoe looked terrified.
“Look, I’m sorry, I ruined your brilliant idea. It’s getting really dark, they must be about to send the rangers in to close this place, and I want to get back to the boats,” she said.
Jay looked at her and then sighed. “Well, the first take was good. And when you took off, I wound up with some fantastic shots of the sky. But get a grip, girl!”
“Dammit, Jay, just give me a break, okay?” Vanessa asked. She cursed herself. Surely she could have thought of a different lie! One that wasn’t—supernatural.