Haunted Destiny

“You know them?” he asked her. “Well?”

“Bradley Wilcox was the head on my first contract with Celtic American, too,” she said. “He’s talented at his job.”

“And?”

She shrugged. “To my mind? A jerk. Rude. He seems to think we’re all lesser individuals. His servants. But as I said, I have to admit he’s good at his job.”

“What about the others?”

“This is the first time I’ve been on the same ship—same contract—with Simon Green and Larry Hepburn. Ralph Martini, I do know. I’ve worked with him before. He’s a nice guy and, again, very talented.” She glanced at Jude sideways and he was surprised to realize once more how attractive she was, with her head of sunset-tinged hair and amber eyes.

Just the type the Archangel might choose...

“Be careful around these people,” he said, his voice gruff.

“They’re really suspects? Is there a reason for that?” she asked.

“Proximity,” he replied. “They might’ve been in all the locations where murders took place. And you really shouldn’t know what we’re thinking, and I shouldn’t be speaking to you about this at all. At the moment, though, you’re about all I’ve got.”

“So, I’m all you’ve got. Great,” she murmured.

But he could tell that she did intend to be helpful.

“Grab a tray,” she told him, leading him to the buffet. “I see Simon and Ralph—they’re over there.”

He selected a bagel and a plate of eggs from the buffet and followed her to the table.

Ralph and Simon greeted her with friendly smiles and she introduced them to Jude. “Company bigwig,” she said lightly. “Watching us on board.”

Ralph stood up to shake Jude’s hand. He was a stocky middle-aged man of about six feet. “He’s a great tenor!” Alexi said in a cheerful voice.

“And I’m chorus.” Simon got up to shake Jude’s hand, as well.

“We all start somewhere,” Ralph said.

Simon Green was a handsome man, young, classically good-looking. He was lean, and Jude figured he must be a decent dancer if he was in the chorus of a play like Les Miz.

Ralph grinned. “Should we be afraid of you?” he asked. He obviously wasn’t.

“No.” Jude grinned back. “We’re just observing, trying to see what works and where improvements might be made,” he lied. “I understand that the entertainment on this ship is excellent.”

“That’s a relief,” Ralph said. “Hey, there’s Clara.” He waved and Jude turned. A very pretty blonde had come into the room. She looked over at them and waved, frowning curiously as she saw Jude.

“Just getting some food!” she called.

“Clara Avery,” Alexi told Jude. “She has a gorgeous soprano voice.”

“Part of our Les Miz cast,” Simon added. “I’ll find a chair for her.”

Clara joined them a moment later. “You look peaked, girl!” Ralph said to her. “You up all night?”

“Nightmares,” Clara said shortly. “Hi,” she greeted Jude.

Alexi quickly introduced them.

“Nightmares?” Simon asked her. “On the ship?”

“I shouldn’t have, but I stayed up watching the news,” Clara replied. “That Archangel killer out there—he was in New Orleans!”

“And he’s probably already moved on,” Simon said gently. “He goes from city to city. You’re safe on this ship. And we’re all here with you,” he added.

“They don’t seem to have anything on this guy, nothing at all! They can’t even find some of the actual crime scenes,” Clara said, shivering.

Jude considered himself a good judge of character. He believed that the men at the table were as concerned for their friend as they appeared to be. Their empathy and determination to assure her seemed completely genuine. He was as confident of that as he could possibly be.

A good thing, since this young woman, like Alexi, would certainly appeal to the killer.

He lowered his head.

The ship has many beautiful young women aboard. A veritable feast for the so-called Archangel.

Clara shivered again, then managed a smile. “I’m going to stick close to all of you.”

“The cops aren’t sharing much information,” Simon said. “I read somewhere that the women weren’t just found in churches, but that they were all posed, with saints’ medallions around their necks. What do you suppose it means?”

“I didn’t hear about that,” Ralph said. “I’ll bet the cops weren’t supposed to give out that information. I guess some of ’em talk when they’re off duty. And once the media gets hold of something...well, you know! Of course, I don’t think anyone could miss the news that he leaves his victims in churches. Or sometimes on the steps.”

Jude was intent on watching their faces and was startled when Alexi Cromwell suddenly rose. Her meal was only half-eaten.

She seemed to notice that everyone was staring at her.

She was thinking fast, Jude thought, looking for a plausible lie. Why, he wasn’t sure yet.

“I just saw someone you need to meet,” Alexi said, turning to Jude. “Ralph, would you mind returning our trays? Um, Mr. McCoy, would you come with me?”

“No problem,” Ralph said, but he watched curiously as Jude excused himself and followed Alexi out of the cafeteria.

Then Jude saw why she’d left so abruptly, why she’d summoned him.

The man in the hooded sweatshirt was moving along the hallway.

* * *

“Wait, please!” Alexi called out. The young man who’d tried so hard to speak to her—who’d disappeared at Jude McCoy’s arrival last night—had popped his head into the cafeteria.

Now he was hurrying down the hallway.

If nothing else, she somehow had to convince the FBI man that she was telling the truth.