Darkest Journey (Krewe of Hunters #20)(65)

“Probably not a good idea,” Ethan agreed. “Now let’s go have that drink.”

Ethan and his fellow agents appeared to be having a good time, Charlie thought. They were enjoying their time aboard the Journey.

But at the same time, they clearly lived and breathed their work. There were eighty-plus crew aboard, and she knew they would find a way to meet them all this week, and find out anything they’d seen or heard.

Charlie paused just as they reached the door and turned to look back at the room. At first all she saw were crew members clearing tables and others following in their wake to reset them for the morning. Then the clatter of plates faded away, and she saw the room as she had seen it before, cloaked in gray mist.

Men, the wounded and the sick, lay on their pallets on the floor. She saw makeshift operating tables scattered with bloody surgeons’ tools. And then she spotted the doctor just as he turned to look at her again.

He offered her a sad smile and saluted. She smiled in return.

She knew she would see him again and hoped they would learn more from the dead than they had learned so far from the living.





12

It was, Ethan thought, quite an incredible thing—cruising the Mississippi on the Journey.

He knew the places they visited so well, from New Orleans to Vicksburg. He’d grown up in St. Francisville, and from there he’d come to know Baton Rouge, Natchez and Vicksburg. Then he’d gone to college in New Orleans and fallen in love with the flavor of the city.

This was all familiar territory, but he’d never seen it from the water before—and certainly not while sleeping beside Charlie every night.

It would be far too easy to forget that they were trying to catch a killer.

He glanced at the bedside table. His Glock, loaded, was still within easy reach. The door, he knew, was bolted. His fellow agents were asleep just down the hallway.

Even so, he couldn’t let himself become too comfortable.

They weren’t expecting trouble on the Journey, of course, but he knew bad things could happen anywhere, as Jude and Thor had learned firsthand all too recently, facing deranged serial killers. That was all part of the job, of course, but the Celtic American connection had him on edge. Those killers had been sociopaths or possibly psychopaths—he left all that for the psychiatrists—though, and he didn’t think they were dealing with that kind of crazy now. His gut told him that Albion Corley and Farrell Hickory had been killed out of necessity—necessity as the killer saw it, anyway—and then Selma Rodriguez had been killed for pretty much the same reason: because of something she knew.

But what the hell was that something?

He didn’t believe the killer had gone after the two men out of some twistedly violent objection to a mixed marriage. The world had come a long way, but racists did still exist, and plenty of them were violent. He just didn’t feel that that explanation fit. If nothing else, how would it have led to a reason to kill Selma?

No, the motive for the original killings lay elsewhere, and she had known something about it—or the killer believed she did.

As he lay there thinking, Charlie edged against him. He felt the warmth of her body, the sleekness of her bare skin. He winced slightly and swallowed; just her movement aroused him.

It was still early.

He slid his fingers provocatively down the length of her spine to the curve of her buttocks. She moved closer and nestled against him, and then he felt her fingers trail down his chest and below, and he knew that she was awake, too.

They made love. It was a hell of a good way for a man to start the morning—especially since he was on the ship, because most of the time he’d be working.

The killer remained at large. But he had come to believe that Charlie—and Confederate Captain Anson McKee—was right. The key to solving this case was here on the Journey.

They lay curled together after their lovemaking, but finally Ethan admitted to himself that he needed to get started on the day. The ship was large, and there were still a lot of staff to talk to, plus they needed to research whether any of the current passengers had also been aboard for the special reenactment. They planned to split up today. He and Charlie would attend Jonathan’s first lecture of the day, then stay aboard, along with Jude; Thor would follow Jonathan to Oak Alley. Alexi and Clara would stay aboard, as well, to prepare for tonight’s shows, but they would be available if he needed to call on them for help with anything.

“Do you know what’s strange?” Charlie murmured against his chest.

“Frankly, there’s a lot in this world that’s strange.”

She laughed softly at that. “No, I mean with what we know. A man and a woman arguing with Albion. I think we need to know more about that. Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with the murders, but I still think there’s a connection to the Journey, and maybe to the Masons, too. We keep getting led in all kinds of directions, but we still don’t know what anything means.”

“To be honest, your father could have given us a bit more direction earlier.”

She rose on an elbow and shook her head vehemently. “My father kept quiet out of respect for a confidence of a personal nature, and he didn’t want to point the investigation in the wrong direction. He didn’t ‘lie’ for any reason other than to protect his friends and Shelley Corley.”

“I agree,” Ethan said. “But it was still important that he tell us everything. Most murders have a clear motive. Love, hate, greed. I don’t think this is a case of love, and hatred doesn’t really fit, either, given what we know of the two men who I believe were the only intended victims. That makes greed seem likely. But greed over what? To answer that, we need to talk to Shelley Corley. I’m hoping we find out more from her.”