“Nikki? Who’s Nikki?”
He stood and fixed Nikki with an intense gaze. His face, sharply shadowed by the lamplight, was all hard angles and rugged lines, his skin weathered. He had high cheekbones, a stark jaw, and short, unkempt hair.
“Investigator Nicole Serafino,” Nikki offered. “Phoenix Seven. I was with Detective Sonia Dieng when she spoke with your wife yesterday.”
“Ah,” he said. “Fiona mentioned you…she was quite upset.”
“Yes,” Nikki agreed. “She was.”
Jayston Lake wasn’t what Nikki had expected. This man was no polished marina regular with a leisure yacht and time to kill. In his late forties, he had the look of someone who’d seen his share of rough seas. His presence gave a sort of gritty reality to the serene boats and peaceful waters of the marina.
“You weren’t with the police when they searched Claire’s stateroom today,” he commented.
Nikki nodded, stinging a little from the reminder of her exile. “As you said, I upset your wife.”
“And my daughter came looking for you,” he said. After a long beat, his expression suddenly softened. “Well, I should thank you for bringing her back safely.”
He reached down for Audrey’s hand, and she meekly gave it to him.
“Have a good night, Mr. Lake,” Nikki said.
—
Relieved to be rid of Audrey, Nikki turned and strode rapidly away. She hadn’t gone far when Jayston called out, “Ms. Serafino? I wonder if I can beg another favor of you?”
When Nikki had returned, he said, “Claire’s passport is in my safe. I’d meant to give it to the police today, but it slipped my mind. Can I pass it along to you?”
Ten
Berthed at the farthest end of the long pier, the largest vessel in the Molo Luise marina was by farThe Prophet. A sleek, white tri-deck. Nikki estimated the superyacht at eighty-five meters.
Jayston spoke into his phone as they approached.
“I’ve found her…no…no…she’s fine. On the pier. Coming aboard now.”
Nikki followed Jayston and Audrey across a short gangplank and onto the tail of the boat. They were met by a bearded man in captain’s uniform. He greeted Jayston, then bent down to Audrey.
“Little madam,” he said, “you had us all worried. Where on earth did you get to?”
“I took a taxi,” Audrey said proudly.
“A little excursion in town,” Jayston said, ruffling her hair. “Henry, would you take Audrey to my wife?”
The captain looked uncomfortable.
“Your wife is…indisposed.”
“Very well. Would you please ask Shonda to put Audrey to bed?”
“Certainly,” said the captain. He extended a hand to the girl, who, as she had with Nikki, complied without protest.
“And…Henry?” Jayston called after him. “Thank the crew for their hunt, will you? They’ll see my appreciation reflected in their bonuses.”
“Yes, sir.”
—
Nikki followed Jayston. The yacht’s luxurious interior was fashioned after a British country estate—walls alternately papered or paneled in mahogany, framed paintings, the floors polished hardwood and thick ivory carpeting. They passed up a set of stairs and into a comfortableliving space—the main salon. A housekeeper was here, vacuuming. She switched this off when they entered, leaving without a word, taking the vacuum with her.
