Читать книгу Perilous Waters - Sandra Orchard - Страница 14

FOUR

The next morning, Sam phoned the FBI’s Seattle office from the balcony of the room he shared with his brother and nephew. He couldn’t make out what was going on in the twins’ room next door any better from out here than he had with his ear to the wall inside as Jake and Tommy watched morning cartoons. And he doubted Jake had bought his neck-stretches excuse for hovering near the wall, no matter how lumpy the sofa bed looked.

“I put a rush on those bottles you sent in with the ship’s pilot. Came back clean,” the agent assured. “Couldn’t find out who ordered the basket. Buyer paid cash. Not that it matters now, I guess.”

Great, so they were back to square one. The PI had claimed he’d never heard of Jennifer Robbins. Not that Sam expected him to admit if he had. Not to some guy over the phone anyway.

“I spoke with the ship’s captain,” the agent went on. “Since their test confirmed Rohypnol in Miss Robbins’s system, he’ll get you the names of everyone who ordered soft drinks. But man, you might as well look for a needle in a haystack. We’re talking hundreds of names.”

Sam clenched the balcony rail, tamping down his frustration that Jen hadn’t been able to pick out the waiter in the employee-photo lineup security showed her last night. “She told me that someone kept calling her the night before she boarded but didn’t say anything. See if you can get a trace.”

“You still think her spiked drink is connected to that note speared to her car last week?” the agent asked.

You’ll pay. The note’s threat had careened through his mind all night. Sam rammed the heel of his hand into the rail. “Yeah. Until we prove otherwise, I assume everything’s connected.”

The agent let out a low whistle. “If whoever drugged her planned to kidnap her and demand a ransom, he wouldn’t have been able to stash her for long on a ship.”

“Making a threat of ‘pay now or you’ll never see her again’ all the more believable,” Sam muttered, sideswiped by images of a bloated body washing ashore. How had this assignment veered so far off course? “Let me know if you find out anything else. Thanks.”

He pocketed his phone and lifted his gaze to the horizon, where water met sky without a landmark in sight—kind of how this case felt at the moment.

Hearing a neighboring balcony door opening, he leaned over the rail to glance at the twins’ balcony. One of the women stood with her back to the open door.

His own balcony door slid open and Sam jerked away from the rail as Jake poked out his head. “We’re meeting Mom and Dad in the game room. Okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam’s gaze strayed to the partition between the adjoining balconies. “I—”

Jake flicked his hand in the same direction. “Just knock on their door, why don’t you? And invite them to join us.”

“It’s not what you think. I was just wondering how—”

Jake chuckled and retreated into the room. “Yeah, yeah, save your breath. We’ll see you there.”

Sam took his time securing their balcony door. This case was getting too messed up. He shouldn’t be letting his family think his concern for Jennifer Robbins was personal. Not when the attacks were likely connected to the gallery’s illegal activities.

Or she could be innocent.

Sam yanked open the door to the hall. They weren’t innocent. He’d heard Cass on the wiretap confirm the appointment her uncle had arranged with the gallery owner in Skagway. He shut out the voice that reasoned that that didn’t mean the women were guilty. He was not going to let a beautiful woman derail another case. He’d stick to Jennifer Robbins like a barnacle to a ship’s hull, be a friend but strictly to do the job. Period.

As he lifted his hand to tap on their door, it opened.

“Oh,” Cass exclaimed. “Good morning.”

“Hey, I thought I’d check in on our patient.”

“Thank you.” Cass grabbed his arm and tugged him inside. “I’m going stir-crazy in this tiny room.” She glanced over her shoulder to where Jennifer stood at the balcony door watching the water and lowered her voice. “I couldn’t even get her to go out for breakfast. But when I ordered room service, she was too afraid to eat it. Said someone could’ve poisoned it. I have to get out.” She wore black tights and a tank top and had her hair pulled into a high ponytail.

“You going for a jog around the deck?”

“Zumba class.” She held up the ship’s activity schedule. “It starts in five minutes. Could you please talk Jen into getting out of the room and enjoying the cruise?”

“Sure, you go on. I’ll keep her company.”

As Cass disappeared out the door, Jen turned from the balcony, startling at the sight of him. “How did you get in here?”

His heart kicked at the wobble in her voice. “Your sister let me in. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Even in a bright floral top she looked alarmingly pale. “My family’s in the game room, and I wondered if you’d like to join us.”

“Oh.” Her breath left her in a whoosh. But whatever relief she’d felt at learning his intentions were honorable—at least honorable as far as she knew—was short-lived. “I...I better not.” She stood by the open balcony door, cradling her middle.

He moved toward her but then thought better of it. “Does your stomach hurt? Would you like me to take you to see the doctor?”

She dropped her hands to her sides and shook her head, and then as if she didn’t know what to do, she scraped her thumbnail on the edge of the chair next to her. “I feel fine. Just...a little headache.”

“Are you sure? Cass said you didn’t eat.”

Jen’s gaze dropped to her thumb scraping back and forth. “Cass talks too much.”

“You missed supper, too. You must be hungry,” he said gently. “Eating might help with the headache.”

She scooped an apple from the fruit bowl the steward had left on the desk. She rolled it between her fingers, scrutinizing the surface, then seemingly satisfied, she took a bite. “This is fine. I’m not a big breakfast eater.” She was clearly trying to put on a brave front, but the deep shadows under her eyes and the defeated slump of her shoulders betrayed her. His heart went out to her—went out more than he wanted it to. More than was smart.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for hers. “C’mon and hang out with my family today. It’ll take your mind off...last night.”

“I can’t even remember last night.” She blinked rapidly as if staving off tears. “That’s what scares me more than anything. Imagine what could have happened and I wouldn’t have even known.”

Yeah, that’s all he’d been doing all night. “Hey.” Despite his good intentions, he grazed his knuckles along her jawline. “We’ve got your back. Don’t let this creep spoil your holiday, okay?”

Her eyes met his, appreciation brimming in their sparkling ocean depths. “You’re right. Thank you. I’d love to meet the rest of your family.”

Perfect. Maybe this assignment would be a cakewalk after all. If she was willing to hang out with them for the whole cruise and Jake sweet-talked her sister into joining them, he might not have to tail her on their Skagway excursion. She might invite them along.

He led the way to the game room, which was on the same deck as their rooms. Mom, Dad, Jake and Tommy sat near the windows at a large round oak table covered with dominoes.

Mom and Dad rose together and Mom clasped Jen’s hands. “How are you feeling? We’ve been praying for you ever since we learned what happened.”

“Thank you.” Jen blinked again, her bottom lip quivering.

Sam wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “She’s fine, Mom.” The instant the words left his mouth, he wished he’d stayed the instinct to rescue Jen from his mother’s inquisition.

Mom’s gaze skittered from his arm on Jen’s shoulder to his face, and a not-good pleasure lit her eyes.

He resisted the instinct to jerk his arm back to his side.

Dad extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Jen. I’m Sam’s dad, Will Steele.” He smiled at Mom as she loosened her hold on Jen. “My wife, Anne.”

Jen’s forehead furrowed. “Steele? I thought...” She turned to Sam. “Didn’t you say your last name was Tate?”

Dad’s mouth flattened into a grim line. His parents knew better than to blow his cover, but the disappointment in Mom’s eyes made him feel lower than dirt. This was supposed to be a special vacation. Not a job. The thought was written all over Mom’s face.

Jake laughed. “He’s always doing that. Doesn’t think a woman will believe him if he tells her he’s Sam Steele.” Jake’s foot pushed a chair into Sam’s gut, letting him know he wasn’t happy about what he’d just done for him.

Oh, yeah, he’d owe his brother big-time for his quick thinking.

Mom and Dad regained their seats, looking relieved by Jake’s save.

Jen laughed. “Are you serious? People tease you about being a hard-boiled detective?”

“That was Sam Spade.” Sam held out a chair for her. “But yeah, it’s happened.” To his parents he said, “Jen and her sister own the Robbins Art Gallery,” hoping they’d assume he’d called himself Tate out of habit. He might do most of his undercover work on the East Coast, but the art world was too small to take chances.

“O-o-h.” Mom patted Jen’s hand. “I’m so sorry about your parents. I remember reading about their accident in the papers. You were much too young to lose them.”

“Yes,” Jen’s voice cracked.

Sam steeled himself against a rush of sympathy he couldn’t afford.

Tommy pressed a picture into her hands of a family waving from a boat with a bright yellow sun shining in the sky. “I drew this for you. To feel better.”

Jennifer looked at the crayon drawing as if it were the most valuable piece of art she’d ever seen. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” She pulled Tommy into a warm hug.

His nephew beamed under her attention.

Sam bumped his shoulder. “Good job, Bud.”

Tommy slapped the table, sending the dominoes jumping. “Play it again, Sam?”

Jen smothered a giggle with her hand, her eyes twinkling, which got Mom started over Tommy’s unintended Humphrey Bogart impersonation.

“See what I have to put up with?” Sam said.

Mom ribbed his arm. “Oh, you’re so hard done by.”

They flipped over all the dominoes and started a new game. Jen wasn’t competitive at all. In fact, she seemed to go out of her way to set out pieces Tommy could use.

“Hey, if I draw you a pretty picture, will you help me, too?” Sam begged after Tommy laid a double combo, winning the game.

“Maybe.” She flashed him an eye-twinkling grin, clearly enjoying the simple pleasure of playing a game with his family. Not something he would have expected.

Mom turned the played pieces over, mixing them for a new game. “You’re just out of practice. You need to get home more often.”

“You don’t live in the Seattle area?” Jen asked.

Did he imagine the hint of disappointment? He shook his head. She was a suspect. Their “relationship” wasn’t going anywhere. “No, Boston.”

“What do you do?”

Cringing at his family’s collective breath, he said, “I’m in security.” Experience had taught him to stick as close to the truth as possible, and given Jen’s current trouble, he suspected she’d be more apt to trust someone in security than the art broker he usually posed as. “I’ve actually done a lot of work with art galleries.”

“Look at the time,” his mother jumped in. “That Iditarod racer is giving a slide presentation in ten minutes. I really wanted to hear that.”

Jake started gathering dominoes. “Oh, yeah, about her sled dogs. You wanted to see that, didn’t you, Tommy?”

“Yeah!” Tommy eagerly joined the cleanup, as Sam’s dad sat back looking amused by his family’s theatrics. A veteran police officer and sheriff, Dad likely hadn’t doubted Sam could handle Jen’s question. Not that Sam didn’t appreciate his family’s efforts to cover his back, except...more than once he’d infiltrated networks that wouldn’t have just sliced his throat if they’d figured out he was an undercover cop; they’d have killed his family, too.

Another reason he preferred working on the opposite side of the country.

“Are you interested in seeing the presentation?” he asked Jennifer.

“Oh, yes, I think my sister mentioned that, too. I should leave a note in our room to let her know where I’ll be.”

“We’ll save you seats,” Mom chirped as they headed out.

“Beside me,” Tommy squealed.

Sam couldn’t blame his family for taking such a shine to her. But it was the gleam in his mother’s eye that had him worried. That and Jen’s wistful tone when she whispered close to his ear, “Your family’s great.”

They were. But they might not think the same about him after her arrest.

* * *

Leaving Sam in the hall, Jen crossed her cabin to the desk to jot a quick note for Cass. A smile tugged at her lips. Years ago, before the art gallery, she, Cass and their parents could while away an entire rainy afternoon playing games. Thank you, Lord, for allowing us to cross paths with Sam and his family.

A breeze whispered through her hair.

Jen’s attention jerked to the open balcony door—then the closed bathroom door. “Cass, you back?”

No response.

The hair on Jen’s neck prickled. Had she forgotten to close the door before she left? She reached to close it and glimpsed a man’s shoe reflected in the wall mirror. “Sam!” she screamed.

Her intruder sprang from his hiding place and shoved her hard into the desk.

Sam rushed into the room just as the guy leaped onto the balcony rail and scrambled up a rope.

Sam grabbed his foot, but the guy caught Sam’s chin with a wild kick, sending him reeling backward. Jen rushed to help him, but roaring his anger, Sam lunged for the guy a second time.

The guy shimmied out of sight, taking the rope with him.

Sam peered after him. “He climbed into the lifeboat suspended over the next deck up.”

Jen raced back into the cabin and phoned security.

In minutes, the same security officer who’d questioned her last night showed up at her cabin door. As Sam relayed what happened, she looked in drawers and cupboards and suitcases to see what was missing. Trembling overtook her limbs. “Why was he here? What does he want?”

“Did you get a good look at him?” the officer asked. “Was it the same man who gave you the drink last night?”

“I don’t know.” She clenched her fists, refusing to fall apart in front of these men. “It happened too fast. And last night is too fuzzy to remember. But he had dark hair. I couldn’t tell what color eyes. He was four, maybe six, inches taller than me. Wore brown leather shoes. And gloves. The surgical kind.”

The officer relayed the description over his radio to men scouring the next deck. “Can you think of anything else? Clothes? Hair length?”

“He wore jeans,” Sam said.

“Short hair,” Jen added.

“Okay, my men are checking security footage now. Hopefully we’ll be able to pinpoint who this guy is. What did he take?”

“Noth—” Jen swallowed to clear the catch in her throat. “Nothing that I can see. The safe hasn’t been opened.”

“What do you think he was after?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know!” She ducked her head and chewed on her bottom lip, embarrassed at her outburst. “Cass and I don’t have any more valuables in here than anyone else would.”

“But given last night’s incident, this doesn’t feel like a random robbery.” The officer clicked his pen. “Did you recognize any names on the list?”

“What list?”

The officer shifted his attention back to Sam. “We sent it to your room this morning. Didn’t you get it?”

Sam pulled an envelope from his pocket—the envelope that had been sitting in the holder outside his door when they’d arrived. He removed a paper and handed it to her. “This lists every passenger who bought a soft drink anywhere on the ship in the thirty minutes prior to the waiter offering you that drink last night.”

She stared at the list—three columns long—and gulped.

“You recognize any of the names?” the officer asked.

Jen sank onto the bed, the paper shaking in her hand.

Sam hunkered beside her and rested his hand on her forearm. His warmth seeped into her chilled bones and stilled her trembling. She darted him a grateful glance, but his attention was fixed on the page.

The names were listed alphabetically. By the time she reached the Ps, she shook her head. “I don’t know any of these people.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “You know at least one.”