And her father’s secrets? He told her that he learned early on that a sunken shipwreck might tell a story, but the rest of its secrets sank deeper than the wreckage. She closed her eyes and once again listened to the ocean ... and yes ... she could hear the thrum of the ocean as if it whispered secrets only it could know.
A strong gust sent rain straight through the window to hit her face, startling her like the good, cold slap that she needed. Cressida shut the window and stepped away.
Time to get busy and find the truth before it was too late.
Sorry, Dad.
Things had escalated. Her research here had an expiration date.
She couldn’t take the time to interview multiple people or spend a day or two or three at the museum to learn more. She couldn’t take the time to feel and enjoy the reminders of her father. She couldn’t just hang out at the local coffee shop and listen to the chatter, ask about the lore, or even stop to join in singing sea shanties if someone were to suddenly break out with “Blow the Man Down.” Everything she’d done over the last year, following Dad’s path, revisiting the places he walked so she could see and feel for herself, had come down to this one last ghost ship story. After ten shipwrecks for his book, researching them had never led her to danger.
And with the risk factor, Cressida had lost her freedom. She wanted to walk on the beach right now, even in the rain, and be alone with her thoughts. Maybe she still could. After all, she now hadtwobodyguards.
No one had actually told her they were standing guard. She wasn’t a prisoner locked in her room. But she knew those two bulky guys belonging to Remi and Jo were watching over her. Maybe in the past she would have felt incredulous at the intrusion. But in the past, not once had she ever felt like she’d been in danger or targeted like she was now. So she appreciated this extra protection while she uncovered the mystery behind her attack, Diggins’s and Braden’s attacks, and now Evelyn Monroe’s attack.
Cressida needed to read through her journal and Dad’s notes with fresh eyes, if only Dad’s notes on theSpecter’s Bountyweren’t so sparse. If only his journal wasn’t missing pages—which she now found utterly suspicious.
She toyed with her cell phone. She could use her portable satellite to get a signal for her cell.
And she could call her mother. Distaste quickly rose in her mouth, and she drank from her soda can as if to wash the thought away. She’d emailed her friend and would wait for an answer from him.
I know I’m wrong to have walked away from her,Lord, but how in the worldcan I face her, talk to her,after what she’s done?
Even knowing that God expected her to forgive her mother, she didn’t know how to make that happen. Cressida had labored for years, and her mother had destroyed all her hard work in one fell swoop. One or two phone calls and her career was dead and gone forever.
Why, Mom? Why?
And deep down, she suspected there was a story there, a reason behind her mother’s behavior. Cressida dreaded that reason. She suspected that with her mother’s connections, digging would uncover a truth that put her mother’s life and career at risk.
But for Dad—to find out more about what happened tohim—she could talk to her mother. She could call and find out if Octavia knew anything about Alaric Dane’s death. Had any suspicions. And for all Cressida knew, her mother was connected to it somehow or even in danger herself.
And then ... then she knew.
Or she suspected. That guy ... herstalker.
Cressida got up, pulled on her raincoat/windbreaker, and left her room. Downstairs, a fire blazed in the massive fireplace, and lodge guests gathered to enjoy it or mingled near the coffee station. Not far, two broad-shouldered males emerged from the shadows on opposite ends of the lodge.
Okay. Now she was definitely feeling their invasiveness. She bounded down the steps and approached the lumberjack guy—Hawk, wasn’t it?
“Hi, so, I need to talk to the guy,” she said.
He shrugged. “The guy?”
Then Cole approached. She was surrounded by these big men with extremely protective demeanors. Kind of like the men who guarded her mother—DSS special agents. A thought flitted through her mind and then escaped. She couldn’t capture it again. Cole and Hawk stared at her even as they continued to project fierce protection. Their behavior almost made Cressida appear like she was someone important, when she wanted to remain invisible and behind the scenes and be nobody who resembled her mother.
“People are staring,” she said. “Please ... back down.”
“We’re helping a friend,” Hawk said. “Keeping you safe.”
“You want to keep me safe? Then help me find the guy. I need to talk to him.”
“Not sure that’s a good idea.” Hawk again. “Want one of us to talk to him?”
“Braden wants that chore.” This from Cole.
Braden had his chance to talk to the guy at the restaurant. “Look, I think I know who he is.” Sort of. “You can come too. It’s not like I can stop you. So where is he? And don’t tell me you don’t know.”
“Honestly, we don’t.” Hawk shared a look with Cole. “He left.”
