Chapter 25
The captain had warned of sixteen-foot seas once they left Hecate Strait between mainland British Columbia and Haida Gwaii—formerly the Queen Charlotte Islands.
They’d have a few hours of exposure to the open Gulf of Alaska—the captain called it the birthplace of storms—before they ducked into the Inside Passage on their way up to Ketchikan.
The breeze whipped across Joellen’s face as they rounded the corner popping out from behind the big theater screen where the ship showed evening movies from the pool deck below. Tonight, they’d caught the end of Jaws—a horrible choice for cruise entertainment, Joellen thought.
The walk made it worth a few jump scares. Steve’s navy-blue blazer smelled like the filet mignon they’d each had for dinner—black pepper with a side of something earthy. It was nice, comforting, so much better than being alone for an entire cruise.
Joellen couldn’t help but notice his eyes darting around the open deck as they walked.
He logged the young couple who were getting out of the hot tub as they approached, but he paid special attention to the guy in a hoodie leaning against the starboard rail.
Like most of the cops and military men she’d dated, Minnesota Steve’s head seemed mounted on a swivel, as if he expected to be attacked by unseen enemies at any given moment.
She smiled inside at the thought. Arliss used to kiss with his eyes open. Weird. But she’d gotten used to it.
She and Steve hadn’t reached that point—yet. The wind out on deck was bracing. With any luck, he would suggest they find a place to get warm.
Most men would have been trying to show off their extensive knowledge of cruise ships by now—stabilizer fins, the difference between a nautical mile and a plain old ordinary mile—but not this guy.
Even at dinner, Steve appeared to be far more interested in Joellen than sharing much about himself.
She thought he might drink a little more than his single Rusty Nail, maybe loosen up a bit.
No luck. He was recently widowed and had a nineteen-year-old daughter studying theater at the University of Michigan, but he’d told her all that when they were still waiting in line to board.
His job was something in state law enforcement.
The details on that were fuzzy. He was a far better listener than she was.
A lawman widower who was a good listener and had a collegeage daughter. The perfectly harmless companion for a lonely ocean cruise—almost too perfect. He was so interested, in fact, that if he’d not been so handsome she might have thought he was interrogating her.
She shook off that creepy thought and decided to enjoy herself. Besides, if anyone did happen to be following her, who better to have her back than a muscular state cop?
Deck 17 was immediately above the pool. Lounge chairs crowded the walkway during daylight hours, but the crew stacked and stowed the chairs after dark, opening up the track.
Northern latitudes saw long days and late sunsets this time of year, but temperatures fell quickly, chasing most fair-weather walkers indoors.
The man in the hoodie pushed off the rail as they got closer. He walked directly toward them, making momentary eye contact with Steve, almost like they knew each other. He ignored Joellen altogether. It was like he made a conscious effort to avoid looking at her. Strange. Joellen chuckled.
“What?” Steve must have felt her move when she laughed. “Do you know that guy?”
“I do not,” she said. “I thought you did.”
“Nope.” He gave her hand a playful squeeze. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” she said. “I was just thinking how the gunfighter mentality has rubbed off on me over the years.”
“Gunfighter?”
“Sorry,” she said. “My ex-husband called it that. I mean the hyperawareness.”
He gave her a wan smile, brow up. “So, you’re thinking about your ex at this moment?”
“Not at all,” she said. “Honestly I was thinking about you.”
“And how I remind you of your ex-husband?”
“No!” She pushed a strand of windblown hair out of her face. “Except for the gunfighter hyperawareness stuff.”
“He’s in law enforcement?”
“Who?” She looked over her shoulder at Hoodie Guy. “Him?”
“Your ex.”
“Oh yeah,” she said. “He’s got the whole big-iron-on-his-hip ethos.”
“Like the Marty Robbins song about the Arizona Ranger?”
“Exactly like that,” she said.
“So … he’s in Arizona, this ex of yours?”
“Alaska,” she said.
“Ah.” Steve glanced over his shoulder, like he was expecting someone. “It all makes sense now. You’re going up to visit him …”
“Oh, hell no,” she said. “Not in a million years … I mean, Arliss Cutter is a good guy, but I haven’t seen him in … almost a decade.”
“Cutter,” Steve mused. “You kept his name.”
“A lot of women don’t change back to their maiden name,” she said. “It’s not worth the hassle.”
“But you are going to Alaska,” Steve said. “You have to be meeting up with him.”
“Nope,” she said. She was about to decide this guy wasn’t so perfect after all when he stopped walking.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m not very good at jokey banter. I told you, I’ve been out of the dating game for … well, forever.”
“It’s all good.” She laughed again, resigned. “From the outside looking in, I guess it does seem like I’ve still got a thing for him, but I swear, I’ve moved on and so has he. Anyway, he always had a thing for his brother’s wife.”
“I’m sure there’s a story behind that.”
“It was tragic, really,” she said. “Fact is, I’m pretty sure he married me because I look like her. Sounds weird when I say it out loud.”
A gust of wind hit them as they walked past the stairs leading up to an over-water slide, bringing with it the noxious odor of engine exhaust from the stacks. They picked up their pace.
“He wouldn’t like me,” Steve said ten steps later when they were breathing clear air again.
“Are you kidding me? You’re part of his tribe.”
They made the turn left under a covered portion of the deck that housed a hamburger joint that was only open during lunch, then popped out on the other side to turn aft, making their way down the port side of the ship.
Steve stopped at the rail and looked up at the stars. “I’m with my agency’s Office of Professional Responsibility, one of those Internal Affairs rats you hear about on TV. The cop who’s always jamming up other cops. You know, the one who has no loyalty to the thin blue line.”
“You don’t know Arliss,” Joellen said. “He would be fine with that. The man’s got this unbendable code. Won’t accept so much as a free cup of coffee.”
“Someone raised him well,” Steve said, his words ripped away by the wind.
He stopped walking. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he leaned against the railing and peered down at the ocean.
“I don’t want to talk about my ex anymore,” she said.
“Fine by me.”
She stood there with him, watching the churning ocean roll by over a hundred feet below. “You think there are sharks?”
“I’m sure of it,” Steve said. “The ship grinds the excess food, then discharges it overboard. The little fish follow along waiting for that. Big fish eat little fish and bigger fish eat those fish. I’m thinking sharks view a cruise ship like we do—a well-stocked buffet.”
Joellen scrunched in close, happy to have Steve’s warmth against her arm. “You must be used to the chill, being from Minnesota.”
“Ha,” he said. “It’s mostly just my fat belly that keeps me warm.”
“Stop it,” she said. “A little dadbod never hurt anybody. You’re definitely not fat.”
Steve shrugged off his blazer. “Here,” he said.
“This looks expensive,” she said, slipping one arm and then another through the wool jacket.
“It is,” he said. “A gift from my sister. Tom Ford. Five thousand dollars, if you can believe the price tag.”
“Five thousand dollars?” She almost choked. “Get this thing off me.”
“Wear it.” He sighed. “It’s probably stolen, knowing my sis.”
“You, sir, are a mystery,” Joellen said.
“And likely to remain so,” he said.
She had no idea what he meant by that. Instead of asking, she stared down at the churning water—frothy and white alongside the ship but pitch-black farther out.
It was hard to tell where water stopped and sky began.
Deck 17 was one of the few areas on the ship that was a straight drop to the sea.
She shivered again. “You know, this night doesn’t have to end.
” She turned up her South Florida charm.
Surely he could read the hint in her voice.
“Everything ends,” he said.
She shivered again, more from the scrumptious smell of his jacket than the cold. “I need to pee,” she said through gritted teeth.
“C’mon,” he said, “let’s go inside.”
“No time.” She bounced in place now. “I need to go bad. There’s a bathroom there by the stacks.” She started to give him back his jacket, but he held up a hand.
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Really. I’ll just take another lap while you go. That’ll keep me warm enough.”