Love Overboard

Chapter 27

THE GALVESTON DOCK BUSTLED WITH workers maneuvering fresh supplies onto the MS Buckingham. Jon dodged to the right as a forklift barreled past. The provisions master, in his bright-yellow safety vest, took out a thermometer and checked the temperature on a pallet of oysters. Shrink-wrapped skids of perishables waited to be loaded off a delivery truck.

Collins wandered up with his hands in his pockets, and Jon struggled to keep his temper in check. No matter how much he argued with the corporate office, they refused to replace the incompetent buffoon. He’d been tempted to go over their heads and fire the man himself, but ultimately decided to follow protocol a little longer for the sake of workplace harmony.

Collins yawned. “Security checked Amante as he got off the ship. You already know they didn’t find anything but souvenirs in that duffel bag he had on Nevis. He’s still clean. Sniffer dogs didn’t find anything either.”

Jon thumped his fist against a wooden crate.

“Take it easy.” The detective unwrapped a stick of gum and folded it into his mouth. “You can’t hit a home run every time.” He stumbled back as a cartload of luggage almost ran over his foot. “Is it always this crazy?”

“Turnaround day?” Jon nodded. “Disembarking thousands of people, cleaning their rooms, restocking the kitchens, and ushering on a whole new batch of passengers in a mere ten hours is like conducting a giant, noisy orchestra with suitcases.” He pushed the hair away from his forehead. “And for all we know, one of those suitcases leaving the ship has millions of dollars of cocaine stashed in it.”

“Don’t get frustrated. It’s possible there weren’t any narcotics this time.”

“Or we missed them because I was searching in the wrong place.” Jon scrubbed a hand across his face.

“Amante fit the profile. It was a natural mistake. Did you get any new information from the FBI investigation?”

“They found threatening emails on our former cruise director’s personal laptop that confirm he was involved in something nefarious but wanted out.”

“Must be why they killed him. Do you think they switched their operation to a different ship?”

“It’s possible. But my gut tells me Newberg wasn’t acting alone. Someone else on the MS Buckingham must have helped. Maybe multiple people. This voyage, let’s focus our energy on the crew.”

“What is that, a thousand employees?” Collins blew a bubble with his gum and popped it. “Do we each take five hundred?”

“Don’t worry. I know a woman who can help. She’s smart and recognizes every person on this ship.”

But even as he said it, Jon’s nerves snapped like a piece of Collins’s gum. Was he roping Lacey into a dangerous undertaking? This drug business already cost one Monarch employee his life. But there were too many secrets between Lacey and him. He wanted to be as honest as possible, even if he couldn’t tell her all the details.

“We must ward off disaster.” Mr. Kapoor, the head manager, walked down the row of hostesses, giving his pre-board pep talk. “Be the front line of Monarch Cruises. As our great founder, J. P. McMillan, said in his last company memo, ‘Make them wish they didn’t have to go home.’”

Lacey waited with her posture stiff as a board. When he finished, the doors between the ship and the waiting passengers opened, and the noise from the pier floated into the room. She straightened the gold crown pin on her lapel and adjusted the purple scarf around her neck. Suitcase wheels rattled on the outside gangplank as a new round of passengers streamed into the main lobby.

“Welcome to the MS Buckingham.” She repeated the phrase over and over as she pointed people to the elevators and answered the same old questions.

“The buffet opens as soon as the lifeboat drill and orientation end.”

“You can ask the front desk about a room upgrade.”

“The golf instructor reserves any course you wish to play ahead of time.”

Her shoulders ached from holding them ruler-straight, but she remained at attention. The first impression these passengers received came from her greeting. She refused to disappoint them.

“Lacey-bell!”

Her head whipped to the receiving doors, and her vision tightened like one of those eerie camera shots in a horror movie. A handsome older man walked across the threshold, dressed in a cream linen suit and a straw safari hat. He held open his arms and waited as if he expected her to rush into them.

Lacey took a step back. “Dad?”

Women cast admiring glances at Ronald Anderson, still striking at fifty-eight, as they walked around him.

A frail woman stood at his side, grasping the handle of a carry-on bag. “Hello, honey.”

“Mom?”

Lacey’s father breezed over and picked her up around the waist, twirling her in a circle. “How’s my little girl?”

The ostentatious chandelier spun above her head. The front-desk workers whizzed past, and the musky scent of her father’s expensive cologne enveloped her. The last remnants of Lacey’s breakfast churned. She pressed her lips together in a tight line. Vomiting in the lobby was not an attractive option.

“Please put me down.” She wriggled in his grip. “People are staring.”

He dropped her to the ground and pushed his hat up his forehead. “Can’t a man be happy to hug his own daughter anymore?”

Her mother joined them, and she stroked his arm. “She’s surprised, is all.”

“I am surprised.” Lacey tugged the hem of her jacket and touched a hand to her hair, then tucked a protruding pin into her bun. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you in the birthday card I sent to expect a surprise.” Ronald tucked his thumbs through his belt loops. “We got tired of waiting for you to come visit. So we used those cruise vouchers you sent us last Christmas.”

“That’s wonderful.” Lacey’s customer-service mask was in place. “Why don’t you relax in your cabin, and I’ll come visit you when I finish here?” She held both hands to the left. “You’ll find the elevators in that direction.”

“It’s good to see you.” Her mother bent forward but hesitated.

Regret surged through Lacey. I’m the meanest daughter on the planet. She gathered her mom in her arms. Her heart cracked a little at how fragile her mother felt. “It’s good to see you too. I missed you.”

Her father wrapped his arms around both of them. “About time the family got together again. Good thing I came up with the idea.”

Lacey’s throat ached. Pressure built behind her eyes, and she breathed deep before releasing her mother. “What’s your room number?”

They told her. She walked them to the elevators, and her parents entered the car. Her dad waved, and Lacey waved back with a smile. It lingered on her face when the doors slid shut. She returned to her duty station in the lobby and welcomed more passengers.

Always with a smile. Her mouth formed the expected pose without hesitation. She’d perfected her disguise a long time ago.

Jon pressed his lips together and rolled them inward as Lacey peeked out the skinny window by his office door. She lowered the blinds and sat on the chair facing his desk. A paper bag with the food she’d sneaked in sat on top.

“We’re having lunch,” he said. “Not holding a secret conference.”

Lacey pulled out a couple of hamburgers, handed one to Jon, and unwrapped the other. “Our lost-and-found escapade got the rumor mill spinning. Any public interaction adds more fodder. Besides”—she took a bite of her sandwich—“the Shippers probably have spies everywhere.”

“Now that I can believe. But there’s an easy way to fix it. Reveal our relationship.”

Lacey choked. She set her burger down and pounded a fist against her chest. “Are you”—she coughed—“are you crazy?”

Jon grabbed a bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and passed it to her. “What’s crazy about wanting to brag about my beautiful girlfriend?”

Lacey drank a sip and wiped her mouth. “Give it a little more time.”

Her eyes begged him to understand. He wanted to try, even if it hurt. Jon sat back on his chair and picked up his burger, his fingers playing with the wrapper. He’d planned to tell her about the drug smugglers at lunch and ask for help, but the relationship issue derailed his plans. Now wasn’t the opportune moment.

They ate without talking. Only the rustle of food interrupted the silence. Voices passed in the hallway. Even if a coworker walked in on them, it looked more like a business meeting over lunch than a date.

He stared at the clock on his computer. Five more minutes before she had to leave. How could he fix this?

“My parents came aboard this morning,” Lacey said in a quiet voice, face pointed at the floor.

“Your parents? That’s great. I’d love to meet them.”

“No.” She jerked her head from side to side. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t say we’re together. I’ll introduce myself as the cruise director and—”

“Jon.” She reached across the desk and grabbed his hand. “I don’t want you to meet them.”

He stilled. “We can’t reveal our relationship to the crew. And I’m not allowed to meet your parents. Are you sure we’re really dating?”

“Of course we are.” Lacey avoided his gaze. She let go of his hand, opened a bag of potato chips, and shoved one in her mouth.

“Is this truly about teasing the Shippers?”

She finished crunching and swallowed. “What else?”

The hum of the air conditioner filled the room.

Jon passed her a cookie. Better to let it go. It was early days in their relationship. There was plenty of time to meet her family later. He bit into his lukewarm burger and tried to ignore the gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach.

Was that feeling because he hadn’t told her about the investigation? Or something deeper? Because of something that came between them two and a half years ago?

He wished he knew what that something was.