Chapter Eight
Eight
Chloe was, beyond any shadow of a doubt, one of the most professional partners with whom he’d ever worked, Wes thought.
Because, once they returned to the ship, she was truly in and out of the shower in ten minutes, hair washed and all. Not that
showering fast was really on any agency graph regarding professionalism; it was more a representation of her entire being,
swiftly ready to move and act in any direction.
He emerged quickly himself, though that day he could have stood under the hot water for a long, long time. The questions in
his mind raced, seeking logic in it all was like trekking through a mire . . .
But he wasn’t going to be outdone and so he emerged casually but nearly attired for whatever they determined the evening would
hold for them.
Chloe was on the sofa, sipping coffee, staring into space.
“Same questions, right?” he said.
She shrugged. “What else? But . . . I think about those rocks. Celia could have been pretty seriously hurt. Would anyone really do that to themselves? Of course, you saved her, so we don’t have to wonder—”
“Chloe! What was I supposed to do? I had no choice there!” he said, frowning.
She shook her head, smiling. “Of course you had to save her! No, no, no, I know that you had no choice, but I’m still wondering
if . . .”
“If she meant to get hurt. Then again, hm. If she’d been really hurt, they might have wanted to send her to a Jamaican hospital
or even air-lifted her somewhere. As good as the hospital on the ship is, it’s not everything that a hospital can be.”
“A dilemma!” Chloe said.
Wes nodded, walking over to the coffee pod machine in the room and brewing a cup for himself.
Chloe already had one, so he didn’t need to worry about choosing between the gentleman his mother had tried to raise or the
hardcore partner Chloe expected him to be. Then again, maybe the two things didn’t need to be mutually exclusive!
“So, tonight, what do we do?” Chloe asked. “Did anyone we’re hunting say anything about where they’re going for dinner?”
“I’m in contact with George Garcia on this burner,” Wes told her, indicating his phone.
“Though that shouldn’t surprise anyone if they somehow steal this phone and realize who I’ve been talking to.
After all, we’re so concerned about Edward, the man we dove in to save!
Our dear Celia has already been to see him.
He made sure he kept his own body between her and Edward and prescribed an antibacterial cream for her little scratch.
She wasn’t really hurt at all—barely a scratch on the outer flesh.
Anyway, Edward had talked about his excitement over being able to move about.
George will be escorting him to the ship’s restaurant called The Beautiful Sea tonight.
I don’t know, so far,” he said dryly, arching a brow to her, “I was feeling a craving for crab or lobster or maybe even their specialty, New England–style scrod. Best buttered breadcrumbs in the seven seas, so I’ve heard,” he told her.
“Seafood it is!” Chloe said. “We’ve got about thirty minutes before first seatings. Oh! Did we need a reservation for that?”
“We have one.”
“Hey! You didn’t ask me—”
“George added us in on his reservations,” Wes told her, grinning.
“Oh!” Chloe winced and gave him a smile. “Sorry. I mean, I was teasing, and it would have been fine. We seem to be on the
same wavelength most of the time.”
“We do. Good partnership,” he said.
She laughed. “And great marriage! We fight less than anyone I know,” she told him, still in her light and teasing frame of
mind. But then she was suddenly deadly serious. “I am so frustrated! How do we really determine the truth about any of these
people?”
“We just keep getting to know them,” he told her quietly. “And, of course . . .”
“Of course, what?”
“I hope that we’re right about Edward.”
“You mean, we both think that he’s innocent and remains in danger?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Instinct?” she asked him. “I don’t know.
But we’ve seen people trying to get near him.
It would be interesting to know how lunch went today.
And thank God they sent George because I don’t know just how far we could have pushed it, watching over Edward and trying to see what the others were up to, too. ”
“We do have George,” Wes agreed. “And if we head out, have a few of those amazing nonalcoholic beers, head into dinner . . .
we’ll find out more.”
“Yes, right. Of course. I’m ready!” she told him.
They really hadn’t taken much time since their return to the ship, but then again, when the captain said a time to leave the
port, he meant it.
When they headed up to have their mocktails, the ship was already at sea again; Jamaica was a memory disappearing into the
dusk.
“A day at sea,” Chloe murmured as they headed out.
“And more computer and internet classes, should we choose. We haven’t attended anything by the lovely Amelia Swenson yet,”
he reminded her.
She nodded. “Then again, I wonder what our people are doing when they’re not speaking to the crowds.”
“Let’s find out.”
“Maybe we’ll be the only ones having dinner with Edward and George—”
“Oh, I guarantee you, the lovely Amelia will be there.”
She laughed softly. “And maybe our new friend. The wonderful silver-haired Sally Brookins!”
“I do think she has a crush on the man.”
“And why not? She’s lively, fun, attractive . . .”
“Edward seems to like her!”
Chloe nodded, grinning. “Well, we head on and . . . wow.”
“Wow?”
“I’m tired tonight! All that climbing, sun, sea and water.”
“Ah, we’ll need to get some vitamin B—we need to go dancing, maybe try a few slots in the casino . . .”
She made a face, and he laughed, and then sobered quickly. “All right, well, it won’t do us any good if you pass out on the dance floor. If you want to go and get some sleep early—”
“And make my beloved husband play by himself on our second honeymoon cruise?” she asked with horror. “Never!”
“Oh, okay, gotcha! But seriously—”
“Seriously. I’ll make it!” she snapped playfully.
He almost chose to remain silent.
“Our first fight, my love. Okay, whatever. Oh, yeah, I remember. ‘As you wish!’” he told her, a smile in his voice.
They’d reached the restaurant that they’d chosen for the night—where George had automatically added them to his reservation—and
he opened the door quickly.
Chloe stepped in ahead of him and he followed.
He shouldn’t have been surprised.
George must have determined that Sally Brookins was an unexpected asset; he had her positioned at the bar by Edward while
he was seated on the stool to the left side of the man.
George was good. Damned good.
He saw Wes and Chloe and lifted a hand to wave. “Hey, you two. We are so happy that you’ve chosen to join us! We’re going
to have a great party going on at our table—we’re stuffed with computer geniuses!” he said lightly.
Wes arched a brow.
“Well, at lunch, Amelia asked if she could come and then Broderick gave Edward a call once passengers were back on the ship
and he’d barely finished that conversation before we heard from Celia and Jeff!”
“That’s fantastic!” Chloe told him.
“Hail, hail, the gang’s all here,” Wes murmured. “Chloe, seriously, how cool! We were so excited about meeting all these computer
or web or whatever people . . . computer scientists? Is there a name for all that brilliance?” Wes asked.
Edward swung around on his barstool, grinning.
“Genius!” he said. “I’ll go with that title. I really like it. Though . . .”
He looked around and lowered his voice. “I’m more of a genius at supervising, at organizational tools . . . at being a boss!”
he told them. “Some of these people . . . they can hack into anything, traverse the dark web as if it came with a street map!
Don’t ever tell anyone. I’m not that . . .”
“Criminal?” Wes asked, laughing.
Edward grinned in turn but quickly dropped their angle of conversation. Wes saw that Celia and Jeff were arriving.
“Hey, we were early, so we stopped at the bar, but I think that our table is about ready. I like it that they have the round
tables—round tables, you all get to talk together. Those long ones, you can only hear and respond to the people by you or
across from you. And this! This is becoming quite the family we have here!”
Quite the family? Wes thought dryly. Hm.
Edward rose and Sally and George did the same. Wes and Chloe stepped back, leaving room for George and Edward to head to the
restaurant’s host and to create a bit of a wall between them and the new arrivals.
But then again . . .
What could they do here, in the crowded restaurant? If they were to hit Edward with any kind of a drug—a quick needle like
a tiny insect bite—what would happen? George was there; Edward would be immediately rushed back to the hospital and there
would most likely be no way to just pull out a gun and pretend he was going to shoot himself or others and then himself.
Of course, these killers were learning.
Because Edward Thompson had been helped in his overboard dive, Wes was certain of it.
Chloe was greeting Celia and Jeff with enthusiasm, joking and laughing about how long it had been since they’d seen them, but then Chloe grew serious, asking Celia if she was really, truly okay.
“Of course! Hey, your strong man there caught me, I didn’t knock my head—I barely got a scratch! Ask Medicine Man George here,
I’m fine!” Celia said.
“Not so fine,” Jeff said bleakly. “She thinks I dropped her!”
“No, I know that I just slipped, trying to move . . . You know, people were ahead of us, on all sides . . . I think someone
brushed by me. Probably trying not to fall themselves!” Celia said. “Anyway, that is not going to be the topic of conversation
for dinner. I’m fine!”
“And I’m fine!” Edward said. “We’re going to think happy thoughts and have happy conversations!”
“Of course! Although!” Sally put in. “I guess it’s terrible to be a bit glad we needed to worry about Edward for a bit. Maybe