Darkest Journey (19 page)

Without turning away, Ethan groped behind him to lock the door.

“I'm not going anywhere,” he told her.

“Then,” she said, “you might want to come over here, because I'm actually feeling just a little bit ridiculous. I'm not really good at this kind of thing. I developed a complex at a young age.”

“Good,” he said.

“Good?”

“I realize I'm being selfish, but I'm glad to know you've never done this for anyone but me.”

He spotted a pile of brightly colored packets on the nightstand. One label caught his attention. It said Tickler.

He looked from the pile to Charlie and couldn't help but smile broadly.

“And you got those where?”

“The condom commercial,” she said gravely. “I've heard they're very pleasurable, though I haven't had a chance to try them out yet. But...”

“I'm glad you waited for me.”

He strode to the bed, kicking off his shoes as he went, sliding his Glock from his waistband, then setting the gun in its small holster on the bedside table.

Screw the rest of his clothes. He'd deal with them as soon as he had a chance to touch her.

“I mean, what the hell. You don't know for yourself until you try something, right?”

Tugging at his shirttails, he eased down beside her, pulling her up and into his arms. “You'll never understand,” he murmured. Her scent was seductive in the most primal way. It wasn't her perfume, not her soap or shampoo, but the deep natural scent of her flesh. He whispered unintelligibly against her lips and her throat, then began to struggle in earnest with his clothing. She kissed him in return and joined him in the struggle with buttons and fabric. “You'll never understand... The hardest thing, the most decent thing, I ever did in my life was walk away.”

“I
do
understand,” she told him, which made him pull back and search her eyes.

“I
do
understand,” she repeated. “I'm just glad you didn't do it again.”

“No chance,” he whispered, his words muffled against her flesh. “No chance.”

They kissed deeply, Ethan trying not to take his lips off her flesh as he worked to divest himself of the last of his clothes.

They laughed at first, until she slid his trousers and briefs down and brushed his erection. Urgency burst through him as if he'd been lit on fire. Their eyes met again, and they fell into another hot kiss.

His clothes gone at last, he kissed the length of her, ardent, desperate, tasting her with lips and tongue. She writhed against him, touching him, nipping his shoulder and along his throat.

Finally and yet simultaneously too quickly, he was over her and then in her, and his need was immeasurable. He had waited a decade, and now the release of his pent-up desire was making him nearly insane. His body was torn between agony and ecstasy, as if he was about to erupt like a Chinese rocket on New Year's, but he fought the desperation screaming inside him.

He had to take her with him.

His eyes remained locked with hers as they kissed, then broke away before kissing again. Suddenly she swallowed back a cry, and he did the same, and then waiting was no longer possible. He climaxed in violent spasms that ripped through him, muscles, blood and bone, and in that same moment he felt her tighten around him and let go of her own control.

They lay together afterward, breathing heavily, until Charlie said at last, “Ten years in the making...”

He rolled closer to her, smoothing back a wild lock of her hair, and asked, “And after all that time, how was it?” When she didn't answer, he smiled. “A little scary, huh? You go so long. You live with memories of what might have been but never was. And you wonder if you've put someone on a pedestal, and whether, if the dream should come true, would it really be...the dream.”

“Better than the dream,” she said softly. “That is, for me. Unless it wasn't...for you?”

“My imagination could never have conceived of anything so wonderful,” he told her.

She rolled against him, arms around his neck, and kissed him.

And then it all began again. Kisses. The eroticism of naked flesh against naked flesh...

Somewhere in there, they slept. And then it was his time to keep watch. None of them expected any trouble at the house, but it never hurt to be vigilant.

He dressed and went down to the parlor, leaving Charlie sound asleep in his bed. Thor had brought up the news on his computer
and
made fresh coffee. Ethan decided Thor might be his new best friend. The other agent went up for a few more hours of sleep, while Ethan settled down to read email until his watch ended when everyone got up for breakfast.

He didn't think he'd ever felt so alive. More awake, alert or determined.

Or more in love.

After one night.

Then again, it had been one night that had followed ten years of a haunting dream that had played constantly in the back of his mind, always there, always a part of his life, no matter how he'd tried to lose it to the mists of memory.

10

“H
ow could you lie to me?” Charlie demanded. She was finally alone with her father on board the
Journey
, and she was furious.

The passengers from the previous cruise had all gone ashore. The passengers for the coming week were starting to board now. That left her plenty of time to talk to her father, and now she was sitting on the small sofa in his cabin while he paced the floor.

He had started off being stern and playing the father card. What was she doing? Taking part in the investigation was dangerous, and she was an actress, not a cop. It was all Ethan Delaney's fault, he insisted, and he had no right to drag her into danger again.

Charlie had refused to cave, though, and she'd quickly turned the discussion around.

“Why did you lie to me?” she asked, breaking into his tirade. “You said you hardly knew the men who were killed, and it wasn't even a smart lie. Half the world knows you were friends with both of them. Did you think we wouldn't find out?”

“Yes, I knew them both. I didn't deny that. And I guess you could say we were friends, but you don't understand,” her father said. He was such a good speaker that he was usually eloquent under any pressure, but now he was waving his hands around in frustration, starting to speak, then stopping abruptly before starting up again.

“I'm
trying
to understand,” Charlie said, “but you're not giving me anything to go on.”

“We supported each other. We supported each other at...” he said.

“At what?”

Her father stared at her and slowly let out a breath. “At anything in life,” he said softly. Then he quickly added, “Not anything bad, but if one of us asked the others to keep a secret, or if we asked for help...”

“So you
were
friends,” she said accusingly.

“More than that,” Jonathan admitted.

She gasped suddenly. “Masons. You were members of the same lodge.”

“Charlie, I can't even say that! You know what we do. We raise money for children's hospitals, for cancer...good things. Only good things.”

“Dad, I know that. I was a Rainbow Girl, remember?” she reminded him. The women's division of the Masons was called the Order of the Eastern Star, and the girls' division was the International Order of the Rainbow for Girls. Growing up, she'd been a Rainbow Girl in her father's lodge. She'd never seen the Masons involved in anything that wasn't completely aboveboard and good for the community.

“Dad, I would defend the Masons in every way—unless they get in the way of justice. If someone in your lodge did this, then—”

“No, Charlie!” he interrupted. “That's just it—no one in the lodge did this. I'm certain of that. I know those men. We're close—we're brothers, in a way. The thing is, if I'd admitted how well I knew the victims...well, I would have been in jeopardy of divulging things to the authorities that were told to me in confidence.”

“Dad, if what you know could lead to the capture of a killer...”

“That's just it. What I know would look to some people like motive, but that's not the case at all.”

Incredibly frustrated, Charlie stood and faced him, hands on her hips. “Dad! You don't know what help your information could be because you haven't shared it with the authorities. Don't you understand? Everything we learn is leading to you!”

Her father lowered his head. “Ethan told you that, didn't he?”

“No, not Ethan. Detective Laurent, and probably others. And...” She paused, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “Dad, I saw the dead woman. Selma Rodriguez. She said Albion Corley had talked about going out to meet you.”

“You saw Selma.”

“Yes,” she said quietly. He didn't see the dead, but he knew and accepted that she did.

He nodded. “I have no idea why anyone killed that poor woman.”

“But you do know why someone might have killed Albion Corley and Farrell Hickory?”

He hesitated. “Dad,” Charlie said firmly.

“Farrell was thinking about getting married again.”

“Why would someone kill him for wanting to marry again?” Charlie asked, perplexed.

Her father was silent.

“Dad.”

“Okay, okay. Farrell was in love with Albion's cousin Shelley. Albion knew about it, and he wanted to see me because he wanted to see what I thought was the best way to go about the wedding. And I was quiet for two reasons—what I knew was told to me in confidence, and I wouldn't have wanted the cops to get the wrong idea. I was in it to help Farrell and Shelley. They thought I'd know the best way to go about doing things.”

“The best way to go about the wedding?” Charlie said, incredulous.

“Charlie, we can make laws, but a lot of people are still prejudiced.”

“He was afraid because Farrell was white and his cousin was black?”

“He wasn't afraid, exactly. He just wanted to do everything right so both families would be on board once Farrell went public with the news. They've been keeping it quiet. He didn't really expect there to be a problem, but just the idea that Farrell was getting married again was going to be news to everyone.”

“Was that really what Farrell and Albion were fighting about on the
Journey
? Nothing about history at all?” Charlie asked.

“No, the fight was over what really happened that day, and the supporting documentation just isn't there.”

Charlie fell back on the sofa, perplexed. “Do you think someone out there...? Do you think it might have been a hate crime?”

“No, and that's why I omitted the truth about how well I knew the men.”

“Omitting the truth is lying!”

“I'm sorry, Charlene, I really am. But I was afraid if I said any of this, the police would be so busy looking in the wrong direction that they wouldn't look in the right one.”

“Dad, how can you be certain this
isn't
the right direction?”

“Because no one knew. No one but Albion, Shelley, Farrell and me. I guess someone else could have overheard something and figured it out, but it just doesn't seem like it could matter.”

“Oh, Dad, of course it could matter,” Charlie said. “You have to tell Ethan everything you know.”

“Ethan!” he exploded. “Ethan nearly got you killed once and—”

“He saved my life. I would have been a sitting duck if he hadn't been there.”

Jonathan turned away. “He should have gotten you out of there and told the police everything down at the station. He shouldn't have kept you there where you were nearly killed.”

“But I wasn't, and that's because he tackled the killer. He saved my life.”

Her father fell silent.

Charlie stood and hugged him. “Dad, get used to Ethan. He's going to be around.”

He groaned. “Oh, Charlie, no. You aren't right for each other. I could see the way you looked at him back then, and I was afraid, and I don't feel any better about you two now.”

“Why? Dad, Ethan is a good man.”

“He scares me,” Jonathan said. “He scares the hell out of me, because... Charlie, I love you. I'm your father, and I want you to be safe.”

“You have to talk to him and tell him what you know,” she said flatly, then glanced at her watch. “And I have to go find Alexi and Clara to start rehearsing.”

“You shouldn't be here.”

“Just a few days ago you
wanted
me here.”

“But now I'm afraid.”

“Dad...”

“They killed that woman in Baton Rouge, Charlie. They killed her just because she knew Albion. I'm afraid. I'm afraid they'll think you know something you don't.”

“Who are ‘they,' Dad, and what on earth could they think I know? You're the one with information that could help solve this case. If you know anything else at all...”

“I don't.”

“Talk to Ethan, Dad.”

His shoulders seemed to slump. “You shouldn't be here. You should have gone up to DC or Virginia or wherever your friends' new theater is.”

“I love you, Dad,” Charlie said, and kissed his cheek. “But that's not going to happen.”

Then she hurried out and down the hall. She should have met Alexi and Clara in the main restaurant ten minutes ago. They had a lot to go over.

But she had to talk to Ethan first. He had to get Jude and Thor, and the three of them needed to talk to her father—but first she had to be sure he understood that even though her father had lied, he was guilty of nothing more than trying to protect his friends. He was a good man.

Just as Albion Corley and Farrell Hickory had been good men.

She suddenly realized she was afraid, but not for herself.

For her father.

* * *

Ethan had been through as much of the ship as he could in an hour, escorted by the captain, a man named Timothy Banks. Banks was the perfect image of a riverboat captain, if Ethan had ever seen one. He was about fifty-five, tall, straight as an arrow, with a full head of white hair and a fine white beard-and-mustache combo to match.

He would have looked at home guiding the
Journey
all those years ago when she'd changed hands during the course of the war.

He loved the
Journey
, so he'd been happy to take Ethan on a quick stroll from deck to deck—the Main Deck, the New Orleans Deck, the Louisiana Deck, the Mississippi or Observation Deck, the Promenade and the Sun Deck. There were small inside staterooms on two of the decks, including the Main Deck, and those were given over to the crew and entertainment staff. The Eagle View dining room, the main onboard restaurant, was also on the Main Deck, and that was where Charlie would be performing every night with Alexi and Clara.

The gym, the pool, rows of lounge chairs and a small but excellent bar/restaurant were, naturally, located on the Sun Deck, while all the other decks above the waterline offered promenades, smaller and less crowded than those on the Promenade Deck. The Pilot House was also located on the Sun Deck.

As far as cruise ships went, the
Journey
was on the smaller side, but between passengers and crew, she still carried about five hundred people.

Captain Banks told Ethan that even though they were on the river and within easy reach of many fine hospitals, they had a ship's doctor, Gerard Amerind, two nurses and a small but state-of-the-art infirmary. It wasn't located on the Main Deck, where the infirmary had been located during the war. Of course, back then they'd needed a larger facility, since most of the men on the ship had been ill or injured. Today the infirmary could be found on the Sun Deck, where Ethan's tour ended.

From there, he and Banks could look out at the other ships currently in port. They were also high enough to stare out over the river and the crescent curve that made up New Orleans, the tall buildings of the Central Business District and even the tops of the old Spanish-and French-style buildings in the Quarter. If they turned around, they could see into the Celtic American terminal, crowded now with passengers eager and excited to embark on the cruise.

“Bad business, huh?” Captain Banks said, shaking his head. “Don't know what you think you can learn from being on the
Journey
. I wish to God I could help you, though.”

“What do you remember about the reenactment? Did you notice anyone who seemed to be harboring a grudge against either of the murdered men?”

“There was that one little spat I'm sure you already know about, but Jonathan stepped in and it was over quick.”

“Did you know all the reenactors?”

“Good Lord, no! I've had occasion to meet a few of them here and there, but I seldom have time to watch any of the programming, much less leave the ship when we're in port. Every once in a while I meet up with a friend somewhere along the way. But I've captained this riverboat along the Mississippi six years now, and mostly I use any ‘free' time to look out over the water and finish up the obligatory paperwork.”

“Did you know Albion Corley or Farrell Hickory, or, by any chance, a woman named Selma Rodriguez?”

The captain took a long look at Ethan. “I met Corley and Hickory once at a combined function of the lodges.”

“The lodges?”

“Masonic lodges. We were doing a benefit to help rebuild one of the local schools. It's over a decade since Katrina, but there's still work to be done.”

“So you
did
know them?”

“In passing. Enough so that we greeted one another the day of the program. I watched them that night, chatting up Wall Street types and oil barons, convincing them to open up their purse strings. I remember they said they were both involved in animal rescue after the big oil spill, too. They were right on the front lines, helping wash off all those birds and such. Hands-on men, they were, not just talkers. Now, as for Selma Rodriguez...” He paused, looking perplexed as he stared at Ethan. “I know that name. I'm just not sure why.”

“She was murdered in Baton Rouge.”

“Poor woman. That must be why I'd heard her name. The world can be a cruel place.” He shook his head, as if at a loss to understand how such things happened. Then he looked at Ethan again. “Is there a relationship between her murder and Corley's and Hickory's?”

“I don't know. She worked for the college where Corley taught.”

“Was she a reenactor, too?”

“No, but she and Corley were friendly.”

“I see.” The captain shook his head. “I'm sorry I haven't been any help, but if I can assist you in any way during the cruise, just let me know.”

“Thank you.”

Banks offered him a firm handshake, then headed off to make sure everything was ready for the arriving passengers.

Even though Banks hadn't told him anything to move his investigation forward, Ethan had found the tour extremely helpful. Now he knew where to find just about anything on the ship. He was glad that the Belles' cabins, and their rehearsal and performance spaces, would be close together. Easier to keep an eye on them that way.