Murder Takes the High Road(48)

I gazed out at the endless blue horizon, breathing in the sea air. Unfortunately, the sea air was heavily laced with the diesel exhalations of the ferry engines. I don’t typically have a problem with seasickness, and I was fine until we were passing the treacherous whirlpool known as the Swelchie—caused, according to legend, by a massive magical quern churning salt beneath the sea—when all at once I began to regret that cheese plate.

A lot.

“Jesus, it’s beautiful out here,” John said with quiet sincerity as a seabird swooped within inches of the railing and winged away, briefly silhouetted against the white sun.

“Mmm-hmm.”

He glanced at me, then took another look.

“Whoa,” he said. “So, here’s what you do in this situation.” He put his hands on my shoulders and faced me toward the prow of the ship. Which, coincidentally meant also facing him. “Keep your eyes on the horizon and breathe deep. Slowly.”

I kept my eyes on his and took a couple of deep breaths. We were standing close enough that I could see where he had missed shaving a small patch beneath his ear. I could see a tiny, almost invisible scar beneath his bottom lip. “I think I’d be better sitting down.”

He looked past me, averted his gaze, and said, “No, you really wouldn’t.”

Sounds of distress wafted on the breeze. I swallowed and nodded.

“It’s maybe another fifteen minutes,” John promised. “At most.”

“Great. I think I can do that.” Barring physical torture—real physical torture, like having your fingernails torn off—anything was doable for fifteen minutes. Hopefully.

John’s expression remained suitably sympathetic, but it felt as though he was smiling at me. I had noticed before how twinkly his eyes were. Now I noticed there was no meanness, no mockery. He was a good-humored man—and a kind one. The scent of his aftershave mingled with the chilly sea breeze. A refreshing change from the oily diesel stink of ship engines.

“I’ve never been seasick,” I protested. “I don’t get it.”

“Maybe it’s what you had for lunch?”

I shuddered, and John said, “Sorry. Don’t think about that. Think about...falling into deep, cool water.”

“If that’s a suggestion I throw myself off the boat, I’m considering it.”

“No, no.” He did smile then. “We’re almost there. Look starboard.”

I cautiously turned my head and to my relief I saw land. White rock, white sand, gray-green hills beneath smoke-colored skies. It was starkly, almost ominously beautiful.

A rainbow arched across the green hills as we harbored in the crystal blue water.

The voice over the loudspeaker made some unintelligible announcement. Unintelligible being the native language of announcement-makers the world over. Anyway, there was only one possible message being communicated, and our group gathered their belongings and began to totter their way down the opposite side stairways to the vehicle deck.

As we filed down the narrow metal steps to the bus in the hold, I happened to catch sight of Trevor. He looked very green, and Vance was guiding him along with his fingertips as though he didn’t want to get too close.

“In seasickness and in health,” John murmured, and I gave a shaky laugh.

The bus was about half full as we made our way back to our seats. As I passed Ben and Yvonne, I smiled hello.

Ben gave me a stony look.

I did a double take. He stared straight ahead as though I were invisible.

What was that about? He’d been fine at our lunch stop.

I hit rewind on the last hour. Recognition dawned. Hell. He’d probably seen John and me on deck. And while nothing remotely romantic had been going on, I could see how our interaction might have looked...intimate. To be honest, it had felt sort of intimate. As though John and I were used to looking after each other.

I had nothing to feel guilty about. I liked Ben and had been open to getting to know him a little better. Open. Not eager. There was a difference. Even so, I felt guilty. I knew Ben was more attracted to me than I was to him, and that the kiss the day before had probably been meaningful for him in a way it had not been for me.

Also, though I was not na?ve enough to think that having casual sex with John automatically equaled the start of a grand passion, it did feel like something had altered between us. So, while I had been honest when I denied that there was anything between me and John, times had changed.

“Something wrong?” John studied me. “You want the window seat?”

“No. That’s fine.”

“You take the window. That way you can open it if you decide you need fresh air.”

I wasn’t used to even this level of attention, let alone solicitude. It was kind of embarrassing, but kind of nice too. Besides, the bus did smell kind of...lived in.

I sat down without further fuss. John said in a voice intended for my ears only, “How many people on this tour would you guess were aware of the rumor that something went wrong on the last trip?”

I was happy to consider a topic other than Ben’s hurt disappointment. “I’m not sure. Daya, certainly, although I don’t know that she thought anything of it until Rose began insinuating foul play. Rose started dropping hints that very first morning at the Caledonian Inn. I’m not sure why she was so convinced something was wrong, but it seemed to me that she talked to everyone who would listen.”