He said a quick prayer over the food and thanked God for it and also prayed for the investigation. Dad had been a Christian and raised Cressida to believe, and maybe that’s why this distance between her and Mom was eating her alive. But how did she forgive? She pushed the thought away. She didn’t want thoughts of her mother to overtake this time with Braden.
Cressida focused on Detective Braden Sanders ... the man.
“So, tell me more about your father’s book,” he said.
“Shipwrecks and ghost ships—the ones that fascinated him. He’s written a couple of other books for this publisher, and they agreed to look over this work and possibly publish it too, trusting me to complete it in the same fashion and style that he would have. I plan to include a special ‘in memory of’ section.” The pain of tears erupted behind her eyes, but she blinked them away with a smile.
“And you can write like him because you’re a writer.”
She shrugged. “I’ll do my best to write with his style and flare, but my voice is different.” She looked off into the distance, picturing her father. “He wasn’t what some people might think of as a boring historian. He had a way about him that added magic and life to old stories.”
“Like what? Give me an example.”
“Like, he really loved World WarII history and got into sharing the danger and intrigue of it. Details about German U-boats and the many sunken ships and how they were sabotaged. It might not sound interesting to you, but he had my full attention, and those who attended when he lectured at museums to talk about his latest book. You should check out his books. I should have asked the museum if they carried them. I should have looked, but I didn’t want to draw attention to him in that way, just yet.”
“I’ll be sure to do that.” Sadness edged his voice.
From that, she assumed that his memories of losinghisfather still ran deep and he didn’t enjoy revisiting maritime history—yet here he was, stuck with Cressida. The pain of the loss of her own father remained fresh and raw since he’d died just over a year ago, but she relished submerging herself in his world before she lost that feeling forever.
Eventually, those memories would fade, and while they remained, she would wrap herself in them. But she didn’t like the sad Braden who sat across from her now, so she changed the subject.
“How about we talk about the investigation? Have you learned anything about the man who attacked me now that you have the sketch?”
“Nothing yet.”
Cressida glanced at the clock on the wall and tried not to make it obvious, but he caught her. He didn’t say anything.
Time to explain. “Listen, I got a text from Diggins. He wants to meet me tonight at eight thirty on theSea Reaper, that’s his boat. It’s the old trawler floating to the immediate south of the group. Easy to spot, he said. It’ll still be light.”
Braden stopped chewing and stared.
“Before you tell me I’m not going, you should know I have no intention of going alone. I didn’thaveto tell you.” She bit into the last of the bread.
He wiped his mouth with the napkin, then laid it on the table. “I’m going with you.”
“That’s the idea. If you have the time.”
“I wouldn’t miss it. I sense a ‘but’ in there.”
“I want to be smart. I don’t sense anything nefarious here, but after the attack, I have to play it safe. So maybe you can just hang around nearby or something. I have thirty minutes with him and that’s it. I don’t want him to hold back on me because you’re there.”
“Do you know what you’re going to ask him?”
“I have a lot of practice at this, so yes. I’m old school, and I wrote up a list of questions in my notebook. One other thing. He ... um ... mentioned that he’s giving me the time because my father deserves answers. That really threw me. Dad hadn’t put any notes in his journal about meeting with Diggins.”
“That’s interesting that he would know who you are and about your father,” Braden said.
“That he knows the connection is strange. I hope he has some answers since my father cut his trip short, his research,and left. I don’t know why, but he went back to DC to talk to my mother, and then he died. I only know he was going to talk to her because I overheard her mention it at the funeral.”
Staring at her, Braden had the strangest look in his eyes.
She was good at reading people, but she couldn’t read that look. “What are you thinking?”
“Nothing that you aren’t already thinking.”
“I don’t know what to think. I’d love to know what would cause him to cut his research short.”Mom knows.
I have to call Mom.
