Stranded (8 page)

“Hey.” Landon's hand clamped hard on her shoulder. “You okay?”

She stared at his worried expression, blinking back to
reality, to the moment. She wasn't on the ocean floor having the breath pummeled from her lungs, wasn't having her best friend ripped from her life, from this world. That was the past. This was now. She had a chance to save another friend, and she
wouldn't
let go. Not this time.

“Darcy.”

She looked up at Landon, at his kayak butted next to hers. “Sorry. I'm fine.”

“You don't look fine.”

She sheltered her eyes from the sun with her hand. “Really, I'm okay.” A cool breeze wafted over her perspiration-drenched skin. “I'll be okay.”

Landon assessed her. “Are you scared . . . of
water
?”

She wasn't scared of water; she was
terrified
of drowning in it. “I can do this.” She had to.

“You sure?”

She tightened her hold on the paddle to the point her fingers burned. “Positive. Now we better get going before we fall too far behind. I don't want another lecture from Gage.”

Landon exhaled. “All right. If you're sure you're okay.”

“Positive.” It was a bold-faced lie, but what choice did she have?

“Slow, easy strokes—like this.” He demonstrated.

That looked easy enough.
Don't think about where you are. Just focus on the motion
. She prayed for God's protection, for His strength. There was no way she could do this without Him.

Following Landon's lead, she mimicked his movements—her paddle cutting through the blue-green water in sure, even strokes.

“You got it.” Landon smiled. “Now, let's catch up. I'll lead the way. Let me know if you need anything.”

She nodded, terrified to look anywhere but straight ahead. She had no idea how far away the rest of the team was. She simply kept her gaze fixed on Landon's back and the horizon in front of her.

Don't look down. Just keep paddling
.

The waves crashed against her kayak as they headed toward Kesuk's northern shore. She prayed the waves would settle, but the myriad of whitecaps dotting the expanse ahead dispelled her hope. The rocking didn't bother her, but the water sloshing up over the kayak was a constant reminder of where she was, and of what was surrounding her.

She fought another wave of dizziness, taking deep breaths through her nose and wiggling her toes as her dad had instructed in times past, though he'd never managed to actually get her back in the water. It
was
strange how such simple motions could distract her brain from the reality surrounding her, even if only momentarily—but even a moment's reprieve from the panic threatening to overtake her was better than nothing.

Please, Father, carry me through this.

A verse she'd memorized from Psalm 93 filtered through her mind.

“‘Mightier than the thunder of the great waters, mightier than the breakers of the sea—the Lord on high is mighty.'”

You are greater than the danger surrounding me.

She paddled on.

Darcy had never been so thankful to be on solid land. Her legs were wobbly, unsure beneath her as she took her first steps onto the hard-packed sand of Kesuk's southern shore. The pent-up anxiety she'd wrestled all day as they paddled along the island's northern and western shores now left her body in a burning adrenaline rush. She fought the urge to lay prostrate on the shore and kiss the ground. She'd made it. God had carried her through.

“What a rush!” Clint smiled beside her.

“That's one word for it,” she mumbled.

“You did good,” Landon said, setting his pack in the pile forming beside the unlit fire pit.

“We've still got a lot of work to do,” George said, greeting Ted. “I've started setting up camp in a half circle with our backs to the hills.”

Ted nodded and moved to assist.

“I've got Phillip's supplies set by the cooking pit,” George said. “Hopefully he'll start soon. Looks like the passengers are hungry.”

“Starving,” Heath chimed in.

“Passengers aren't the only ones.” Gage rubbed his stomach.
His damp shirt clung to his midsection, hugging his well-defined abdomen. Heat rushed Darcy's cheeks.

“I'll get the cooking fire started for him,” Jake offered.

“Piper and I will get the staff tents up.” Kayden pulled the tent roll from the base of her pack.

“Unless you need me, Gage, I'll help the girls,” Landon said, inclining his head in the sisters' direction.

“Nah, I'm good. Thanks.” Gage shifted his attention to Darcy. “You good?”

“Fine.” She was just thankful to be on land.

His gaze bore into her—so much emotion dwelling there.

“I . . . better get started interviewing the participants about their first day out.”

“Right.”

Gage approached Darcy at the picnic table while everyone else was otherwise occupied, settling into the tents George and Ted had so masterfully erected. Though
tents
hardly seemed the appropriate word. What they had set up looked more like the luxury safari tents of the early 1900s, bordering far too close to what many referred to nowadays as
glamping
for Gage's tastes. The only difference between true glamping, as Piper explained it, and what stood erected around him was the lack of actual furniture. Each passenger had an inflated air mattress on a raised frame, upon which high-loft goose-down sleeping bags were spread. A small battery-lit lantern hung from the overarching beam, bathing the faux-linen tents in soft light. He had to admit the overall effect was quite nice—like fireflies dancing in the coming dusk of twilight. The sun wouldn't be fully setting for a bit, but the
pink already streaking across the Alaskan sky indicated it was going to be a gorgeous one.

He sank down beside Darcy on the picnic bench. Somehow Chef Phillip had enlisted her to help with dinner, putting her to work on the potato skins—which she'd clearly never made before, though watching her attempts to cook them over the fire had proved highly entertaining. “How'd your interviews go?”

“Fine until I got to Phillip.” She poked at the limp skins arranged on the platter before her.

He fought back a chuckle. “How'd he wrangle you into helping?”

“I'm not really sure. One minute I was talking to him about Abby, asking if he'd ever worked with her, how he felt about her leaving and his taking over her job, and the next thing I knew, he'd put me to boiling potatoes over the campfire.”

The distinct smell of smoke clung to her fleece jacket—he leaned in—and to her silky blond hair.

“Hope I'm not interrupting.”

They turned to find Clint standing behind them.

“Not at all.” She sat back from Gage. “Please, join us.”

“Just wanted to sample one of those amazing-looking potato skins. May I?”

“Of course.” She smiled.

Clint reached in between them and grabbed one.

She stiffened as he popped it in his mouth.

He swallowed. “Delicious.”

“Really?” Relief filled her face. “Thanks.”

“No. Thank
you
.” His appreciative gaze lingered on Darcy far too long for Gage's liking. “Hope all your interviews went well.”

“Yep. Everyone's really enjoyed the excursion so far.”

“That's great.” He shifted his weight, resting his boot on the bench between them and leaning in slightly toward Darcy. “And did you enjoy it?”

She nodded.

“I'm glad to hear it. There's nothing like the wind in your hair, the sea air on your face.” He smiled. “Such a beautiful face.”

“Thanks.”

Gage leaned around Clint, fixing his displeased gaze on Darcy.

Clint straightened. “Guess I should let the restless natives know dinner's about ready.”

“Yeah. Shouldn't be long now,” she said. “I think Phillip is just about done with the steak.”

“Great.” Clint popped another potato skin in his mouth, then turned and headed back toward the campers.

Gage cocked his head. “What was that?”

“What was what?” She fidgeted with the arrangement of the potato skins.

He jutted his chin toward Clint's retreating back. “The two of you all flirty.”

“We weren't flirting.”

He arched a brow.

“
I
wasn't flirting.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I was simply trying to establish a connection with him.”

“I'd say connection established.” He linked his arms across his chest. Why was he getting so worked up?

“It's vital I make connections with as many crew members as possible. I don't know which of them may be of use to me in finding Abby.”

“So you're using them?” Why was he getting combative? And why did he feel so territorial all of a sudden? Maybe it was simply that Clint rubbed him wrong, or maybe it was the way she'd just led Clint on that bugged him so.

“I'm just getting to know the people Abby worked with leading up to her disappearance.”

“In case they can be of
use
to you?” Isn't that what she'd just said—they'd be of
use
to her? Was he simply of use to her too?

“I'm not
using
them.” She fanned the stack of napkins out beside the tower of plastic plates. “I'm just getting to know the people that knew Abby.”

“So, let me get this straight. You form a
false
attachment with Clint, for example”—though it could just as easily be him—“in case he can be of
use
to you in finding Abby?”

“Yes . . . but it's not how you're making it sound.”

“How am I making it sound?” He was only repeating what she'd said, though he recognized he was making the situation far too personal.

“Wrong and manipulative.”

“Just call it like I see it.” He shrugged. “But that's me. I prefer to be up-front.”

“I'm doing what I need to do to find my friend.”

“By using other people.” Just as his ex, Meredith, had. He was falling for another woman who led people on and lied. What was wrong with him?

While Meredith's and Darcy's professions weren't the same—lawyer and reporter—the means they used were far too similar for his tastes. It showed the heart of their character. While in Yancey this winter, Darcy had tried so hard to convince him she was different, that she wasn't the type of reporter who lied and manipulated to get ahead, and about
the time she'd left for California, he'd actually started to believe she was different.

Now . . . he feared the truth was showing through. Darcy might be kinder than Meredith, she might even have great intentions for her actions, but the end result was the same—she did what she needed to do to get what she wanted.

It wasn't like he didn't understand. He'd been there—wanting to do everything possible to protect a loved one, to prove his brother's innocence, but he'd never lost sight of who he was and of what mattered.

“You think I should simply walk away?” she asked at his silence—her tone less assured than it had been moments before.

“No, but I still believe there's a straightforward way to go about it.”

“You don't understand. People lie. They cover their tracks.”

“So, what . . . you
have to
lie to catch them?” That was convenient.

“That's not what I said!”

Kayden cleared her throat.

They both turned.

Kayden tilted her head in the direction of the group. “You're starting to draw an audience.”

Darcy's eyes widened. “Could you hear what we were discussing?”

“No, but your voices were rising. A few more seconds and . . .”

“We don't have to worry about that.” She pinned a glare on Gage. “This conversation is
over
.”

It wasn't the only thing that was over. He had to keep his distance. Darcy had worked her way into his heart, and he
had to do whatever it took to work her out again. Even if it meant being combative, blowing things out of proportion, making it personal. Because the truth was, if he didn't stop his deepening feelings for Darcy, it would become intensely personal, and he couldn't go back there.

Darcy sat on the open spot on the log beside Piper, her dinner plate in hand, her ire fully riled. She watched Gage across the flames laughing with one of the passengers—the single, female passenger. Frustration boiled inside. Not at his conversation with the beautiful lady, though she wasn't thrilled with the way Whitney smiled at Gage. She was frustrated by a pricked conscience.

What am I to do, Lord? I know that to do my job and to find Abby, I'm going to need to lie about who I am and my reasons for being here. I can call it something less negative, but I am lying, and I'm wrestling with that
.

It was the reason she had left undercover reporting in the first place—having to compromise to get to the truth. But this was an entirely different situation—she was trying to save a life. Why couldn't Gage understand that?

And why do I care what he thinks of me? It hurts when he assaults my character. Can't he see I'm just trying to help Abby?

But in all honesty, she was energized by the hunt for the truth, enjoyed tracking down leads.

Why can't he see I'm not Meredith? I'm not self-serving.
I'm trying to save Abby. Lord, don't let her die until I reach her, until she knows you. Nothing matters more.

She cut into her steak with all the force of a lumberjack attacking a giant redwood, glaring at Gage across the fire.

Piper studied her but didn't say a word. She didn't have to. Darcy knew she understood completely.

Darcy jabbed a piece of her meat. “Is he always so—?”

Piper sighed. “Yes.”

“Don't you just want to—?”

“Occasionally.” Piper smirked.

“Only occasionally?” Darcy set her plate aside, too rattled to eat. “Then you're a better woman than me.”

“I'm just related by blood. There's a certain level of innate love and forgiveness woven into that.”

“I suppose it would have to be innate.”

“I think it's God's gift,” Piper continued. “We drive each other crazy, but we'd do anything for each other.”

She would have done anything for her brother—and had until the day he died. Even Peter, in his limited understanding, showered her with unbounded love. He treasured her as his sister, and that love still permeated her heart. But she wasn't related to Gage and wasn't bound by the same innate forgiveness, and right now he was being a downright judgmental pain, when what she longed for was his support. “He thinks so poorly of me.” It broke her heart.

“That's not true. Gage thinks very highly of you.”

Darcy nearly choked on her cider. “Yeah, right.”

Piper angled to face her better. “I'm serious. Whenever he talks about you . . . I can see he feels something for you.”

“Yeah, annoyance.”

Landon wrapped his arms around Piper from behind.
“Ahhh . . . she's not that bad.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Piper's head. “Somehow I manage to put up with her.”

“Very funny, mister.” Piper jabbed her fiancé playfully.

“Mind if I steal my gorgeous fiancée away to see the sunset?”

“Not at all.” Darcy smiled, so happy to see them together, especially after all they'd been through over the winter. God was present in their lives, in their relationship. Their trial had brought them closer when it could have so easily torn them apart. Most definitely God's handiwork.

Darcy wrapped her fleece more snugly about her as the warmth slipped from the air. Someone needed to stoke the fire.

As if on cue, Jake rose and, grabbing a stick, stoked the flames, adding another log to the fire.

Darcy studied him in the light of the flames—tall, slender, dark hair, hazel eyes . . . the weight of sorrow permanently etched on his face.

When she'd left Yancey last winter, she hadn't been able to resist digging into the past of the man who had intrigued her so. Now she understood why he displayed such an intricate knowledge of criminal proceedings during the case she'd investigated for the McKennas, but she also understood why he'd chosen not to tell anyone about his past, and it certainly wasn't her place to do so. She felt rotten about looking him up, now that she knew the truth.

She waited until Jake settled back on the log at the far end of the gathering, as usual seeming content to hang on the outskirts and observe. Grabbing another cup of cider, she approached him. “Mind if I sit down?” She indicated the empty spot on the log beside him.

“Of course not. Take a load off.”

“Thought you might like something hot to drink.”

He took the cup she offered. “Thanks.”

“Looks like it's going to be a cold night.” Small talk was always a good way to ease in.

Jake assessed the sky. Piper had told her that in the time he'd been in Yancey, he'd come to be known as the best tracker in Alaska. It probably came as a natural extension of his background she'd uncovered, but whatever the cause, Jake lived up to the nickname he'd earned with Alaskan Search and Rescue—Hawk.

“I'd say mid-to-low thirties tonight.” He took a sip of cider.

“I see why Piper calls you the human weather station.”

He chuckled. “You spend enough time outdoors, looking for signs, you begin to see them everywhere.”

“I hope that's true.” She hoped people left signs too—didn't just disappear, didn't evaporate. She prayed God would give her the vision to see the signs, follow the trail, to find Abby and to bring her home.

“Piper told me about your friend.” He looked at her with such compassion in his eyes—compassion only a fellow sufferer could understand. “I'm sorry.”

She nodded her thanks. “I was hoping to pick your brain a little, if that's okay?”

He shifted. “Why me?”

“You were so helpful on the last investigation. . . .”

“Beginner's luck.” He took another sip of cider.

“Right, but I was still hoping I could run some things by you—see if you have any more luck in you.” She needed his expertise.

He stiffened slightly beside her, clearly trying to figure out if she knew more than she was letting on.

“Please. I'm so worried about my friend.”

“All right, but I can't promise I'll be much help.”

“Thanks.”

“Why do you want
his
help?”

Kayden.
Darcy exhaled. Not now. Not when Jake was willing to listen.

“He was so helpful with Reef's case, and—”

“He was, wasn't he?” Kayden cocked her head. “Makes you wonder where he got such knowledge.” She was the steadfast doubter when it came to Jake. She didn't trust him—couldn't accept a man who wouldn't admit his past.

“Hey, Darcy,” Clint said, striding up. “The sunset is going to be amazing. I know a great vantage point. Care to join me?”

“Uh . . .” She glanced over at Jake.

“We can catch up later,” he said.

She looked back at Clint and smiled. “Sure.” She'd hoped for help from Jake, but maybe she'd find some from Clint instead. He knew Abby—brief as their time working together might have been. Clint was open and easygoing, and clearly feeling more and more comfortable around her. Maybe he was ready to share a bit more.

Near the top of a rocky rise, Clint extended his hand.

Darcy took hold, and he guided her up the final steps. She gazed across the northern expanse of the island to the strait and beyond, and her breath caught. The sun was setting to her left, and straight ahead, two snow-covered peaks glistened in the evening light. “It's stunning.”

“Yes,” he said, stepping closer. “You are.”

She glanced over to find his gaze fixed on her. “Thanks.”

“It's the truth.” He reached out, caressing her jaw with the back of his hand.

“Thanks for bringing me up here.” She shifted her attention back to the view, hoping he'd do the same. “So, what am I looking at?”

“Those are the Pavlov volcanoes. That spit of land that they sit on divides the Pacific Ocean from the Bering Sea.”

“Wow. You sure know this area well.”

“It's not my first excursion here. After a while, you learn where the best vantage points are.”

“Did Abby come on excursion here too?”

“Sure. On the last cruise.”

“Did you show her this view?”

“Nah.”

“How come?”

“We never really connected.”

“Connected?”

He smiled. “I like you, like your style. Thought you'd enjoy a good view.”

“And Abby?”

“Never really thought about Abby. Then again, I only worked a few excursions with her.”

“This is the first excursion
we've
worked together.”

“Yeah, but we connected. Clicked. Ya know?”

She smiled but didn't feel any true connection, though it would hardly help her cause to let Clint know that. He was a nice enough guy—she just had pressing matters at hand.

Gage's words of condemnation raced through her mind, and she tried to shove them down, needing to focus on finding Abby. “Kind of odd, though, isn't it?”

Clint stepped closer, his full attention on her. “What's that?”

“Abby just leaving like that.”

He frowned. “You're sure putting a lot of thought into this. Did you know her or something? Before the
Bering,
I mean?”

If someone on the ship had discovered Abby's true identity, and she claimed to have known Abby outside of the
Bering
,
then they'd know she was a fake as well. “No. Just met her once, when I boarded.”

“You're awful curious about someone you've only met once.”

She needed to tread carefully. She didn't want Clint spreading the word that she was asking questions. “You're right. I guess I'm just surprised.”

He popped a mint in his mouth and offered her one.

“Thanks.” She slipped it in her mouth, the overpowering cinnamon burning her tongue.

He slid the tin mint case back in his shirt pocket. “What's to be surprised by?”

“I met Abby when I boarded the
Bering
one day, and the next day she was gone without any word.”

“So?”

“Seems like she would have said something to somebody.”

Clint smiled. “You're assuming she cared enough to leave notice. Most people in this industry don't.”

“Care about their jobs?”

“Have much loyalty to the cruise ship. People come and go as they please.”

“Mullins had me sign a three-month contract for the spring season.”

“Yeah. We all do. So what? You leave and they stop paying you. End of contract.” His eyes narrowed in amusement. “What do you think, they're going to go through the trouble of tracking you down and force you to return to the ship? Employees are a dime a dozen. The cruise line doesn't care as long as the slot is covered.”

“That doesn't sound very cheery.”

“Cheery.” He laughed. “This is obviously your first gig on a cruise ship. What you need to do is stop worrying about
some gal you didn't even know”—he stepped closer, trailing his hand down the length of her arm—“and enjoy the view.” He gestured to a large bird gliding overhead, nearly a shadow in the darkening sky. “We're in a beautiful place, and you're with a man that finds you absolutely captivating. What's not to like?”

If he only knew. . . .

“Come on, Darcy, let's get to know each other.” He nudged her arm. “Tell me something about you. Anything.”

“Okay.” She smiled.
Something safe
. “I hate pickles.”

He chuckled. “Well . . . that's a start.”

“My turn,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Massage therapist-medic—the combination is intriguing.”

“That's not actually a question, but you're certainly not the first to comment.”

“So how'd you get started?” It was quite the job combination.

“Well, I began on the
Bering
as a massage therapist, but having to stay on the ship all the time got boring, so I diversified. Took my rotation off and got my medic's license. Now I participate in most of the excursions.”

“You seem to enjoy them.”

“It's great getting to meet new people.” He stepped closer. “Captivating people like you.”

She smiled but focused her gaze on the view, not him.

“You and Gage seem to have an interesting dynamic.”

“That's one way to put it.”

“I'm not stepping on any toes, am I?”

“Me and Gage?” She laughed but felt no humor on the subject. “No.” There would never be a “her and Gage.”

“Good.” Clint smiled. “Because I'm enjoying getting to know you.”

As nice as Clint was, she needed to keep a tight rein on
things. She wasn't who he thought she was, and as soon as she found Abby, she was out of there. Which meant she needed to be very careful not to lead Clint on, as Gage suggested she was doing. Nothing beyond a casual friendship was going to happen with Clint, but at the same time, she needed to find out what he knew. Abby's life could depend on it.

Everyone was a potential suspect or witness—even if they didn't realize it. Any one of them could have seen or overheard something they didn't think anything of at the time but could prove vital to her investigation. She had to keep digging until she found it.