Stranded (21 page)

“Surely the disappearances make the news or the papers,” Gage said.

“Only if there's family to make noise to the papers, or more often if a reporter catches wind of the occurrence while a ship is docked in a nearby port. The women go missing off the larger cruise ships like the
Bering
and off of the smaller yacht-style cruises too. But they aren't just disappearing off cruise ships. I've got a lot more investigating to do, but over the years women have gone missing on various adventure excursions unrelated to cruises—when hiking or camping
in small groups or on their own, and even from several of the lodges.”

“So we're talking a vast criminal network,” Jake said.

Landon nodded. “Looks that way.”

Jake sighed. “It's very smart. Spreading it out. Makes the disappearances seem completely unrelated. Someone very savvy and obviously diabolical is running the operation.”

Landon nodded. “I agree.”

“So where do we go from here?” Jake asked.

“I know one thing,” Gage said. “I'm not letting Darcy back on that ship.”

“You can't do that,” Landon said.

“What? Are you crazy?”

“Landon's right,” Jake said.

“You're both crazy.”

“Darcy's getting close.”

“Exactly. It won't be long before whoever is involved figures out Darcy's connection to Abby—if he hasn't already.”

“Just hear me out,” Landon said. “If we can pinpoint at least one player in the network—which I believe Darcy is very close to doing—then we may be able to use him to trace back to whoever is running the whole thing.”

“I'm not willing to sacrifice Darcy's safety.”

“She's not going to walk away, and we both know it,” Jake said. “Not without her friend.”

“Her friend is most likely dead. She learned what was happening, got too close to fingering those involved, and they killed her. Darcy just doesn't want to admit it.”

“Based on what we've figured out,” Jake said, “a completely different prospect exists.”

“You don't think . . . ?”
Abby sold into the sex-slave trade?
His stomach flipped. Jake was right—Darcy would never run from this fight. “What do you think we should do?”

“Darcy said you two decided that Abby had brought her in to work excursions because she believed someone on them was involved.”

“Yeah . . .” Gage raked a hand through his hair.
This is insane.
“But that was when we thought they were using the excursion points to run drugs, not people.” What kind of monsters were they dealing with?

“If someone on the excursions is involved,” Gage said, “our suspect list is short. Darcy's bet is on Ted, but I'm not a fan of Clint.”

A look passed between Landon and Jake.

“What?”

“You're not a fan because of the attention he pays Darcy or because you really think he may be involved?” Jake asked straight out.

Gage seriously weighed that. “Both,” he answered truthfully.

“What about George?” Jake asked.

“He's new. Brought on the same day as me.”

“We need to find out who he replaced,” Landon said. “The timing is too convenient. I mean, Abby goes overboard, and the next day someone on the excursion team leaves.”

“Already suspected that. Darcy and I got a look at the employee liaison's files.”

Landon arched a brow. “Not going to ask how.”

“Better if you don't. But the man George replaced was Jeremy Harnett. Darcy and I jotted down all their socials for you.” He handed Landon the slip of paper. “We thought you could run them. See if anything pops.”

“Anything in their files that suggested a history of trouble?”

“No.”

“I'll still run them, just to be thorough.”

“Darcy will appreciate it.”

Landon smiled.

“What?”

“Nothing.” His smile grew.

“Thanks for the cocoa,” Clint said, finishing it off.

“You're welcome.” She'd been very careful not to press on anything—her earlier request, his strange
cruise-ship world
comments, or even what had happened in the woods. This time spent with Clint was damage control. She'd inquire about the rescue crew again, but not tonight.

“So what was all that out there?” Clint gestured to the woods as he set his empty cup aside.

“What do you mean?” She took a sip of her lukewarm cocoa.

“I mean, you and Gage racing all over the woods, searching for planes, boats, and crew members. Are you really some conspiracy nut like Ted believes?”

“No. Definitely not. We were just curious about the plane.”

“And the boat,” he added.

“Right.” She smiled. “And then Gage noticed some of the crew were missing . . .”

“I didn't realize we were all supposed to remain under lock and key.”

“It's not like that. Gage just wants to be sure everyone's safe.”

Clint gave a knowing smile. “Especially you.”

She thought it best just to let the comment slide.

“If I didn't know better, I'd think you two were an item.”

“Gage and I aren't an item.” She couldn't even go there—delving into her feelings for him, her love. Not while Abby was still missing. Her focus had to remain on the case, but she still found both her head and her heart filled with Gage, filled with the memory of their kiss and the questions left unanswered.

“Come on.” Clint stood and extended his hand. “There's something I want to show you.”

“Now?” It was late and dark.

“I was going to show you earlier, but you and Gage went racing off.”

She shifted uncomfortably on the log, glancing back at Jake's tent, where Gage still was. He'd throttle her if he found out she'd gone off alone with Clint.

“Don't you trust me?” Clint asked.

If she said no, if she declined, it could very easily mean the end to his cooperation—limited as it had been thus far. “Of course.” She smiled. He wasn't the one who worried her. Ted was the one she'd never venture into the woods alone with.

“Come on, then.”

She stood and placed her hand in his. No warmth passed through her, as it did whenever she held Gage's hand. There was no sense of security or protection.

“Where are we going?” she asked, trepidation filling her the farther they moved from camp. She looked back, the campfire no longer visible.

“You'll see.”

“I'm not really a surprise kind of gal.”

He turned back with a peculiar smile. “Yet you keep surprising me.”

Gage exited Jake's tent, adrenaline burning through his veins. Women being trafficked, sold into the sex-slave trade, and they were most likely working side by side with the men responsible.

He glanced around the fire. Ted had already turned in as soon as they got back to camp. George was back and conversing with the newlyweds at the fire. When had he returned, and more importantly, where had he been?

He scanned what remained of the group for Clint but came up empty, and then it hit him—Darcy wasn't there either. Had she already turned in? He hoped that was the case, but in his gut he knew better. He was going to throttle her. He stepped toward Whitney. “Have you seen Darcy?”

“Yeah, she took off with Clint.”

He knew it.

“Any idea which way they went?”

Whitney pointed toward the far side of camp.

“Any idea how long they've been gone?”

“I'd say fifteen minutes, maybe?”

Great. Was she completely insane? “Thanks.” He grabbed a flashlight.

“You want some company?” Whitney asked, standing.

“I thought you never left the group.”

She smiled. “I think you're trustworthy.”

“I appreciate that, but I'll feel better knowing you're safe here.”

Her smile wavered. “Are you worried something is
happening? I mean, I thought it was stupid of her to go off with Clint like that but figured they just wanted some privacy.”

The thought left him ill, but he knew it wasn't the truth. Didn't he? “Nothing's wrong. I just want everyone staying in camp. You go wandering through unfamiliar woods at night, you could easily stumble and break a leg.”

“Right.” Whitney smiled, clearly not buying his explanation.

“I'll see you in a bit.”

She nodded as he headed for the opposite end of camp.

“Where are you going?” Jake asked as he passed.

“To get Darcy.”

“You want help?”

“Nah.” He held up a hand, not slowing his pace. “I'm good.”

Truth was, he was far from it. Darcy had gotten under his skin, in the good way, in the very good,
very
dangerous way. He hadn't been able to shake her from his mind since she'd left Yancey last December, but now she'd burrowed her way past his guard, deep into his heart. He cared for her. . . . Who was he kidding? He loved her—strongly, passionately.

He'd been reading the Bible each night since he'd first pulled it from that nightstand drawer. It was so different from his memory of the Bible from his youth.

He'd started at the beginning with Genesis and read through Exodus, and then his attention had been drawn to Psalms—the cries of David's heart were more real than anything he'd thought he'd ever encounter in the Bible. David had lost a son just as he had, and yet David still chose to praise God, to see God as good and sovereign.

His mind flashed back to that day in the hospital, to holding his precious, fragile child in the NICU. The mask and
robe on, his hands scrubbed—the only part of his skin able to touch his son's. He'd prayed, cradling Tucker gently to his chest, prayed when the doctors had given up hope, prayed like he'd never prayed before, but God didn't answer. God took his son.

Could he ever praise God again like David had? Could he release the anger and bitterness that had been suffocating him for so long? Could he embrace his Father and breathe the fresh air of grace again? It seemed too good to be true, and yet his soul was stirring with hope.

After ten minutes of stomping through the woods, his flashlight glinted off the ground ahead, sweeping across two pairs of shoes. He lifted it and found Darcy's and Clint's startled eyes.

Darcy blinked, lifting a hand to shield the glare from her face. “Gage, is that you?”

“Of course it is.” Clint sighed.

“What are you doing out here?” Darcy asked.

“Out for a stroll.”

“Uh-huh,” Clint said. “Sure you weren't keeping tabs on us?”

“Why would I need to keep tabs on you?”

“I have no idea. I was just showing Darcy the view from Magellan's Rock.”

“You seem to have a knack for finding those types of spots.”

“I like to explore the islands I visit.”

“I'm sure you do.”
Searching out the best places for drop-offs and pickups.

“We were just heading back,” Darcy said.

“I suppose you're about to do the same?” Clint asked.

Gage smiled. “How'd you guess?”

“Just lucky, I suppose,” Clint said through gritted teeth.

“What was that all about?” Darcy asked once Clint had said good night and Gage had her to himself at the edge of camp.

“What were you thinking?”

“I didn't realize going for a walk was such a big deal. I did it our first excursion out and you didn't react like this.”

“Because I didn't know then what I know now.”

“Which is?”

“Women are being trafficked.”

“I know. Jake told me.”

When would she learn? Was she afraid of nothing? “And you still went off with our chief suspect into the woods on an unfamiliar island at night. Are you always this reckless?”

“Since when did Clint become our chief suspect? If you recall, he was with us when that boat was on the western shore earlier, so it stands to reason that he's not the one involved—Ted is.”

“We can't rule anybody out. Not yet.” He told her what he, Landon, and Jake had discussed while she'd been off gallivanting through the woods with Clint.

“It
was
Drake Bowen's body?” she said, clearly jarred.

“Yes.” His gaze dropped to her bare hands. “Where are your gloves?”

“Drying by the fire.”

“That was stupid.” He pressed her hands between his, rubbing to warm them. They were cold as ice.

“They reeked like fish.”

“Oh, and frostbite is so much better.”

“I kept them in my pockets most of the time.”

He wasn't even going to ask where they'd been the rest of the time. The thought of Clint touching her hand, let alone holding it . . . Possessiveness mixed with genuine concern fueled him. “I want you to do something for me.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, clearly apprehensive.

“Promise me you won't go off with Clint or any of the
Bering
's crew members until this is solved.”

“But, I—”

“I couldn't take it if anything happened to you.”

She tilted her head, her expression shifting from one of preparing to argue to I-didn't-see-that-coming. “You couldn't?”

He stepped closer, clutching her hands tighter. “No.”

She shifted her stance, leaning in to him. “Because?”

He smiled. Leave it to Darcy to press. He took a deep breath. “Because insane as it is, I've somehow managed to fall quite madly in love with you.”

Shock broke on her face. “You have?”

“I'm afraid so.”

“Try not to sound so excited about it.” Her jaw tightened.

“I didn't mean for it to come out that way. It's just . . .”

“Just?”

He'd never anticipated this happening, didn't want it to be happening, and now that it had, he had no idea how to proceed, other than to ensure Darcy's safety. Once they were off the ship and he knew she was safe, maybe then they could sort through it all. “I need you to promise me you won't go off with Clint alone again.”

“What if he holds the answers I need to find Abby?”

“What if he's the one who killed Abby?”

“Don't say that.” She pulled back, shoving her hands in her pockets.

He didn't want to hurt her, didn't want to be mean or blunt,
but if that's what it took to make her realize the severity of the situation, if that's what it took to protect her, then so be it. She could hate him as long as she was safe.

“Abby's not dead. She can't be.”

“Can't be? What do you think? That whoever dumped her overboard wasn't up to the task of killing her off after pulling her from the water?”

“No. It's not that.” She turned away from him.

“Then what?”

She didn't answer.

“Darcy, these are cold-blooded killers, drug smugglers, human traffickers. These aren't nice men. They don't have consciences. If they thought Abby was on to them, if they dumped her overboard to get rid of her, I highly doubt they'd hesitate to—”

“Stop. Please.” She turned around, tears streaming from her eyes.

“Oh, honey.” He hadn't meant to make her cry. He tugged her into his arms. “I'm sorry. I was only trying to emphasize how dangerous these men are.”

“I know. It's just that she can't be dead. Not yet.”

He pulled back slightly and tipped her chin up. “What do you mean not
yet
?”

Her shoulders dropped. “Abby's not saved.”

“I know . . . But as bad as it looks, there still is some hope.”

“No.” She shook her head and sniffed. “She doesn't know Jesus. I've tried, but she never . . .”

“You're worried about Abby's salvation?”

“If she died not believing in Christ . . .” She shook her head, determination fixed on her brow. “I failed Stacey. I can't fail Abby too.”

“Stacey? Who's Stacey?”

“She was my best friend when I was little. When we were seven, we got pulled into a rip current at our local beach. I was the stronger swimmer. I grabbed hold of Stacey's hand as we were dragged under, but I couldn't hold tight enough.” Darcy squeezed her eyes shut. “It ripped her away. I can still see the terror in her eyes as the sea tore her from me.” Tears streamed down Darcy's cheeks.

Gage clutched her close, cradling her head against his chest as her sobs broke loose.

“I was rescued, but Stacey . . .” She swallowed. “Her body was never recovered. I let go, and she died. I refuse to let go of Abby.”

“Honey.” He stroked her hair. “You were just a little girl. It wasn't your job to save Stacey. You did everything you could.”

“I won't let go of Abby. I can't.”

Gage escorted Darcy to her tent, his arm still around her.