Two separate warnings, and she couldn’t have taken him seriously? Her experience on the foggy beach brought a whole new meaning to those words.
A knock came at the door. She sat up, sniffled, and swiped at her eyes.
She must look a mess. Probably the detective wanting his jacket back. Too bad she hadn’t showered and freshened up. She opened the door to find an auburn-haired woman in her thirties holding a package.
“Hi, I’m Remi Beckett, the Cedar Trails Lodge manager. You must be Cressida. I’m so glad to meet you.” Remi smiled, her eyes holding concern.
She must know about the attack.
“It’s nice to meet you too.” Cressida thrust out her hand. Remi shook and released it. “What can I do for you?”
Remi offered the package to Cressida. “Someone brought this to the lodge. I thought I would hand-deliver it so I could speak with you in person. My friend Detective Sanders also requested that you be moved out of this cabin and into the lodge. I have a guest leaving tomorrow morning, and the room is yours if you’d like.”
Cressida couldn’t hide her relief as she held the package.Could this be...?
Before answering Remi about moving to the lodge, Cressida ripped the parcel open. A note was clipped to Dad’s journal, and she quickly read it to herself.
You left this behind. Remember what I told you.
C.M.
Captain Malloy.She held the journal to her chest and closed her eyes. “Thank goodness.”
Aware that Remi was watching, Cressida opened her eyes again. “I love my privacy and this cabin, but given the incident today, at least until the guy is caught, I should probably take that room. I mean, unless you think I would be putting anyone in danger.”
“You won’t. If you’re concerned about your safety tonight, I have a sleeper sofa in my office that you’re welcome to take.”
Cressida gave a tenuous smile. “That’s sweet, and thank you for the offer. I should be fine. If I change my mind later, I’ll show up at the lodge.”
“Sounds good. If you need anything at all, just find me. Cell phones rarely work out here, but just head to the lodge and someone can help you.”
“The rooms don’t have landlines?”
Remi lifted her shoulders and shook her head in a way that said she didn’t get it either.
Okay, then. “Well, thank you.” Cressida lifted the journal and shook it. “This is a lifeline.” To her research. Her connection with Dad.
“I hope the rest of your day goes well.” Remi turned and walked up the trail.
Cressida shut the door and opened the journal—Dad’s notes along with her own thoughts mingled together on the pages. The last eight months of research she’d done to finish the book her father had started. She wasn’t sure if his working title was quite right, though.
Echoes Beneath the Waveswas a compilation of the mysteries and maritime legends surrounding a select group of shipwrecks, as well as the historical truth. Legends were stories people believed were true but had never been authenticated. Dad’s work didn’t center around authenticatingbut rather raised questions, because in the end, the stories surrounding these specific wrecks could not be proven true or false.
She flipped through the pages, looking at her handwriting. The tactile action had given rise to memories she might not have retained if she’d simply typed everything into a computer. Dad had already done so much work, and maybe she hadn’t truly needed to travel to all the locations herself, but part of her had wanted to experience what he’d experienced, and that would make for better writing.
A deeper part of her wanted to put her heart and soul into his last work and make it shine, as if she could add anything more to what he’d already done.
Lying on the bed, she held the journal against her heart and closed her eyes.
Oh, Dad.
She still struggled to believe he was gone. Hit by a taxi while crossing the street. Such a ridiculous, tragic accident. This trip to the Washington coast and the research she intended to complete here would mark the last spot, the last unexplained crewless vessel, and in that way being here was bittersweet. She didn’t want it to end, and maybe she would drag it out longer than necessary so she could squeeze out all the memories and emotions possible that would connect her to her late father.
As for his journal, she couldn’t imagine that she had left it behind. That had been a huge mistake. On the other hand, leaving the journal behind on theMariner’s Gambitmight have been the best mistake she’d ever made, otherwise whoever had taken her bag would also now have the journal.
In addition to the journal, fortunately, much of her research and notes were also on her laptop, and even if someone could figure out how to open it without her biometrics, she shut it down remotely. In fact, she could still accesseverything stored on the cloud—the bigger pieces. Not the nuances that she’d written in her journal.
After her sob, relief shuddered out of her in a long breath, like she had emptied out all the pent-up distress. Forgetting that she had been violently abused today, letting go, would take time.
