Haunted Destiny (22 page)

“As far as we can tell, the victims had never met one another. We couldn't find anything in common among them. The only connection was through the medallions. Each woman who was killed had a profession that correlated with the medallion left on her body,” Jackson said.

“Maybe it has to do with the fact that they were professional women,” Jude suggested. “Maybe this guy has something against working women.”

“That's possible. Could be he was spurned at some time in his life by a professional woman—and the medallions somehow emphasized the fact that, in his mind, women shouldn't be working,” Jackson said.

“Because—in his mind—they should be giving their attention to the men in their lives?”

“One would think that would leave our Roger Antrim out of the equation, since he's been married to the same woman for almost thirty years,” Jackson mused.

“You've had profilers in Quantico on this. Remind me what you've got from them so far.”

“He's between the ages of twenty-five and thirty-five, male, white, heterosexual. They believe the killer is either wealthy or someone with reason to travel frequently. This pretty much fits all our suspects, except for Roger, of course, who's a little older than the other men.”

Jude didn't get a chance to respond because there was a tap at the door, and David Beach poked his head in. “Agents, the Reverend Mike has asked to see you, down in the chapel.”

Jude and Jackson looked at each other and quickly rose. Beach nodded solemnly as they thanked him. He was ready to help them now, in whatever way they might require. Sad, Jude thought, that it had taken the death of Maria Sanchez to make everyone so willing to cooperate fully.

“You coming with us?” Jude asked him.

“I'm checking in with my staff regularly. That's a lot of people,” Beach said. “But...”

His words trailed off. They knew he was thinking about Nathan Freeman.

They didn't know for a fact that he was dead; his body hadn't appeared anywhere.

But none of them expected to find his body. It was somewhere in the vastness of the sea.

The Reverend Mike was sitting in one of the rows of cushioned chairs in front of the altar. He jumped to his feet when they entered.

“Thanks for coming. I don't like to be away from the chapel right now. People are coming in here every few hours. They're praying that we make it through the storm,” he told them. “And praying that they stay safe...”

“Only natural,” Jackson said. “But you wanted to see us? Has something happened?”

“Someone was in here. And I'm not sure how that person got in. I definitely didn't leave the door unlocked last night and security officers have been patrolling the ship. But someone
was
in here. Someone looking through the Bibles.”

“How can you be sure?” Jude asked.

“It might mean nothing, but one Bible was open to what I thought was an unusual reference for someone to be seeking out these days. It referred to the role of women. Titus 2:5. ‘To be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled.'”

Jude and Jackson exchanged glances. “‘Submissive,'” Jackson said.

“‘Working at home,'” Jude quoted.

“Reverend, you have no idea who was here?” Jackson asked. “Based on any previous conversations or anyone you might have seen hanging around?”

“Nothing that I recall. I must've been in my office or perhaps sleeping when this person got in. I have no idea who, how or when. All I can tell you is that the Bibles were moved. And that, as I said, the King James Bible was open to the page I just told you about. I thought you should know. Especially because of what happened the day we left NOLA—and in Cozumel.” He studied Jackson and Jude. “And you're not with the Celtic American line, are you? You're investigators of some kind. There's a reason you were on this ship when we left New Orleans. That's obvious.”

“Yes,” Jackson said. “You're right. We're FBI.”

“Figures.” Mike nodded. “This guy, whoever he is, this so-called Archangel—he's down on women. Hates women. He attacks successful, professional women. And he was in my chapel last night. Gentlemen, I will not be leaving my chapel again. If he comes back, I will know it.”

“Reverend,” Jude said urgently. “If he comes back, remember he's an adept killer. Don't confront him yourself. He's killed a man, as well.”

“That young man was unsuspecting. I intend to be ready for him,” the Reverend Mike said.

“If he comes—” Jackson began.

“There's an alarm button on the wall there, below the painting,” the Reverend Mike interrupted him. “Trust me, I will hit that alarm.”

“I believe my colleague was about to ask that you not try to take him down yourself,” Jude said. “We're not doubting your capabilities. It's that we're just closing in on this killer and we know he's dangerous. And chances are you won't recognize him as the killer when you see him.”

“If I suspect anything, like I said, I'll hit that alarm,” the Reverend Mike vowed. “Now, you have suspects on this ship. So, I'd appreciate knowing who they are.”

“Reverend, this is an ongoing investigation,” Jackson said.

“And you, sir, should remember that I answer to a higher authority than the law. What you tell me will stay with me. I swear I will keep your information to myself.”

Jackson nodded thoughtfully. “Then I'll trust you. There are four men we're looking at. Two are employees of the cruise line, and two are passengers. A new man in the entertainment department, Simon Green. The cruise director, Jensen Hardy. And passengers Roger Antrim and Hank Osprey.”

“Roger Antrim?” Mike sounded shocked. “That can't be.”

“Why?” Jude asked sharply.

“Well, he and his wife are on this ship quite frequently. Nice man. Always courteous, which you might not expect, seeing what a powerhouse he was in business. And his wife! She's lovely.”

“Yes,” Jude murmured.

“And Jensen! He's a ball of fire. People love him.”

Not all people,
Jude thought.
But he knew he couldn't let his personal feelings influence his search for a killer.

Still, he couldn't forget the way Jensen had looked at him when he'd realized that Alexi hadn't been
alone—that she'd been with Jude.

“Hank Osprey,” Mike went on. “I don't really know him. And I've never met Simon Green.”

“I have pictures on my phone. It's worthless for communication right now, but I can show you some shots of these men,” Jackson said, and proceeded to do so. “If you see any of them here, let us know immediately.”

“Immediately,” Mike echoed. “And your list is safe with me.” He smiled. “I swear to God. And coming from me, that's a real vow.”

Jude and Jackson left the chapel and strode down the Promenade Deck. Some people were out and about; the shops were open, but doing little business. A few people were in the cafés.

“I'd give my eyeteeth to speak with Angela,” Jackson muttered.

“You think this supports our theory?” Jude asked.

Jackson glanced over at him. “Either that, or the killer wants us to pursue that angle. I do actually think we're on the right track. This killer is organized. Careful. He stalks his victims and is familiar with their routines, their habits. He knows how to hide their bodies—until he's ready to display them. The only time he's ever made a mistake was when Byron Grant returned home too quickly.”

“And even then, he killed Byron. Dumped his body and displayed Elizabeth's.”

Jackson nodded.

“Do you think the killer might have known his victims personally? That some or all of them were women who snubbed him? Perhaps they even used their work as a way to turn him down.”

“It's possible. The evidence shows that killers like this often prey on women who remind them of someone they want to hurt. Some kill their mothers over and over again—and some repeatedly kill the girl who got away.”

“Yeah, I know, but that doesn't really narrow anything down for us,” Jude said. “Every one of these suspects has been to Cozumel before. And every one of them had opportunity in the cities where the killings took place.”

“Roger, though,” Jackson murmured. “He's been in the news quite a bit over the last few years. If he'd been spotted in the vicinity of any of these murders, there's a good chance he would've been identified.”

“It's interesting,” Jude added, “that he's always portrayed as a family man in the media.” He paused. “Nevertheless, his wife suspected him of having an affair—with Flora Winters. But of course, it turns out that Flora's someone he met with for business reasons.” He sighed. “Yeah, we could really use some communication with the mainland right about now. For one thing, we'd find out who bought those medallions from her husband.”

“It won't be long,” Jackson said. “By tomorrow we'll reach port. At least there, we'll have agents and internet access again. We'll get this guy, whether it's on the ship or on shore. He must realize that.”

Jude felt suddenly chilled. “He must realize that,” he repeated slowly.

“And yet the Archangel seems to believe he's invincible.”

“I hope so,” Jude said. “Because he has two medallions left. And he's probably growing impatient, maybe desperate. He might start taking too many chances.”

“Which might help us catch him—but could also make him all the more dangerous,” Jackson agreed. “Maybe we should see how the day is going in the Egyptian Room.”

* * *

Musical chairs.

Alexi could tell that even Jensen was running out of things to do.

But she had to hand it to him; the passengers did seem to be having fun.

The game was actually enhanced by the movement of the ship, since the players had to try harder to reach their marks. There was a lot of laughter and good-natured hysteria.

It didn't hurt that the bar had done a booming business.

Hank wasn't playing musical chairs. He and Ginny had left after Jensen had introduced a game of Twister.

There'd been too many people touching too many people, she was certain, for Hank to want his Ginny playing such a game.

She was relieved to see Jude and Jackson walk into the room and saunter over to the bar to watch the activity. She was sure that they'd both noticed exactly who was—and wasn't—in the room.

“And...sit!” Jensen said.

People scrambled for chairs.

Jensen swung around to see who was out. Before he could say anything else, the bell of the PA system sounded. Captain Thorne's voice came on over the speaker.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” he boomed. “I'm happy to announce that we're drawing ahead of the storm. Tonight, however, we're going to be passing through rough waters. We won't be returning to New Orleans. Rather, we'll round the tip of Florida and reach the Port of Miami. Now, no one should worry about that. The Celtic American will arrange to fly you back to New Orleans as soon as we're assured you won't be facing evacuation lines out of the city. They still aren't sure. Dinah may head for Cuba or Florida, but we'll be getting to Miami in time to see that you're all safe. By early tomorrow evening, we'll have you docked. Now, of course, we'll try to work our Celtic American magic to make this up to you—even if the storm is an act of God. As for this evening, folks, we're going to have one dinner sitting in the main dining room. That will be at seven o'clock. We'll let you enjoy the pursuits of your choice, including the casino, until ten. At that time, we'll ask everyone to return to their cabins. The crew will be very busy through this last patch of rough sailing. As I said, we want all of you safe. We'll be closing our restaurants, cafés, bars and other venues at ten, to ensure our staff's safety, too. Thank you all, and see you at dinner!”

The PA system went silent.

“Well!” Jensen said. “I proclaim everyone still by the chairs a winner! Yes, even you, Ms. Starbridge, although you did lose on that last go-round. My gorgeous assistants—including you, Simon!—will be handing out the bottles of champagne you've just won. I'll let you get back to your cabins in case you want to dress for dinner, and if you don't...well, the bars are open from now until ten.”

Alexi distributed champagne as quickly as she could.

She kept a smile on her face, even though she couldn't wait to be out of the Egyptian Room. She didn't need Jensen bounding over to tell her cheerfully that she'd be playing through dinner again, and that she'd still have to spend the hour from nine to ten in the piano bar.

At last, the champagne had been handed out—and Jensen thanked them all for their aid and assistance in keeping the passenger fun
rolling
, right along with the ship.

A few of his people were just returning from the task of circulating out the ship's instructional sheets—just in case anyone had somehow missed the PA announcement, heard all over the ship—and they laughed at the feeble joke.

The entertainers who'd been brought in barely managed a smile.

After that they were free. Simon nudged Alexi and shook his head. “You're a trouper. They're going to have you playing piano for hours again. After all the fun and games that kept things
rolling
along today.”

“It's not exactly heavy labor,” she said. “I'd rather be off tonight, but I can play if I have to. I was looking forward to seeing
Les Miz
on our final night.”

“All that rehearsal and no show.” Simon groaned. “Hopefully, they'll keep the cast together and open the show on another voyage.”

“It'll depend on how many of the cast are on the same contracts with Celtic American,” Alexi told him. “People sign up for different lengths of time with the company. Anyway, who knows? We could wake up tomorrow to beautiful clear blue skies. I'm going to take advantage of my two free hours, Simon. You coming back to your cabin? I think a bunch of us are heading down together.”