Darkest Journey (Krewe of Hunters #20)(41)

He rose and walked toward the big screen.

The news was from Baton Rouge. He couldn’t hear the details, but he heard enough to know the attractive reporter was giving out information on a murder. The picture of a taped-off crime scene was projected behind her.

“Mrs. Watson, would you turn that up for me, please?” he asked.

“Sure, honey,” she said, then got the remote out from behind the bar and handed it to him.

The anchor was continuing with her story. “Mrs. Rodriguez was found this afternoon just outside the campus in a wooded section of town. Friends, neighbors and coworkers considered her a warm, friendly woman, and police are seeking help from anyone who can tell them more about her whereabouts or give any information whatsoever that could lead to the apprehension of her killer. In other news...”

Ethan quickly flicked to another station.

And then another.

Mrs. Selma Rodriguez, sixty-two, of Baton Rouge, a custodian at the college, had been found murdered just outside campus. She’d been reported missing when she’d failed to show up for work. Her purse, money and credit cards had been found with the body, ruling out robbery as a motive. As it was an ongoing investigation, police were not reporting the cause of death, and were seeking any and all help from the community.

He sensed someone standing next to him, watching the television, and turned to see it was Chance Morgan.

The photographer was shaking his head sadly. “This world’s a real mess. Killing a hardworking woman—for what? Too many crazy bastards out there.”

“Yeah. Crazy bastards,” Ethan agreed. He turned to see Charlie staring at him. He smiled grimly back at her and returned to the table just as a young waiter was delivering his gumbo.

He felt her eyes still on him as he bent to eat his meal. Charlie was a good person and would undoubtedly be upset that a woman had been murdered.

But she would also be wondering why he found the case of such interest.

He was actually wondering that same thing himself.

And then he remembered that the Journey had been in port at Baton Rouge that day.

With Jonathan Moreau among those on board.

Had he spoken too soon when he told Charlie he didn’t consider her father a suspect?

*

The silence in the car as they drove back to Charlie’s house hung heavy, as if they were both harboring dark thoughts they didn’t dare voice.

“Did you enjoy being on set today?” Charlie said finally. “I mean, minus me thinking someone threw a knife at me and the fact that the bayonet the killer used was likely stolen from the prop collection.”

“I didn’t mind filming,” he said, but he didn’t elaborate. His features looked cast in concrete as they were caught in the moving shadows created by the streetlights as they drove.

He wasn’t showing any outward signs of anger, but she could feel him seething. And she had no clue why.

He would certainly be angry later, when she finally told him she was certain the answers to the murders lay aboard the Journey.

And that she would be aboard next time it set sail.

“It’s sad about Selma Rodriguez, that woman in Baton Rouge,” she said, since he didn’t seem inclined to keep the conversation going.

“Yes.”

Clearly talking wasn’t going to help, so she decided to go back to dark silence.

They reached the house, and Ethan immediately got out of the car. While she headed for the door, he opened the trunk and took out a briefcase, then headed up the walk to join her. He inspected the door and nodded, and she slid the key in the lock.

Inside, he made sure the door was locked, then went straight to the sofa, sat down and pulled his laptop out of his briefcase. Without a word, he booted up the computer and started working.

Charlie hadn’t moved away from the door; she just stood there and watched him.

At last he looked up at her, his head tilted at an inquisitive angle. “Yes? Is everything all right?”

“Fine, thank you. Thank you for staying.”

He nodded, then looked at her expectantly, waiting.

“Well,” Charlie murmured, “I guess I’ll go to bed.”

He stood suddenly and walked over to her. She was disturbed to realize she actually had to force herself to hold her ground. Her knees felt weak, and she felt hot as her blood rushed through her. She never had gotten over the way she felt about him. Ten years...a decade. A lifetime between them. She still loved the way he looked, the way he moved...even the way he breathed.

And yet, as she stood there expectantly, she remembered the absolute humiliation of throwing herself at a man who hadn’t wanted her. She’d been so certain they’d been made for one another. But he had only stared at her in horror and walked away.

It was a moment never to be forgotten.

He stood for a moment, not touching her, just looking at her.

“Is there anything you’d like to talk to me about?” he asked her.

She wasn’t sure if she lied at that moment because she still didn’t know how to explain her near desperate determination to be on the Journey or because she was distracted because he was standing so close.

“No,” she managed sweetly. “Just thank you, that’s all.”

He still didn’t move, but she couldn’t stand there any longer. He was, however, blocking the stairway. She put a hand on his chest as she moved past him, and she felt his body heat and the sudden sharp constriction of his muscles.