Cold Grave (32 page)

He had brazenly broken into the ship’s computing system. He thought following the girls to their cabin would have been creepy, but stalking them online was somehow fine. Then she remembered where she’d seen him: in the teen club, hunched over a keyboard.

‘You’re a hacker. And a cyberstalker.’

‘Whoa. That’s harsh. I prefer to call it cracking. It’s code-breaking and quite a prized skill, I might say. I’m a problem solver, not some cyberstalker.’

‘What else did you find out?’

‘She’s an Aquarian. That’s totally compatible, and she lives in Hong Kong. The tyranny of distance is not easily overcome.’

He may have been a con artist, but he was also a romantic, even if he did write love notes in texting shorthand.

Anya marched him back to the cabin, with the threat of security the alternative. As they approached, they could hear the violin. The music was sad and slow. The boy paused. ‘Have you ever heard anything as moving? I knew you were making all that murder stuff up. Got to admit, it really had me going for a second.’

Only one person could be playing. ‘Wait. Who did you write the first note for?’

‘Jasmine. Who else?’

If he was so smitten with the older sister, he may not have noticed Lilly, who had collected the note by mistake.

‘Where did you put the first note?’

‘I saw her a second time practising in the library. Once I found the cabin number, I just asked the housekeeping lady to put it in her violin case.’

Now it made sense. He didn’t know that both girls had violins. The housekeeper had put the note in Lilly’s case by mistake and Lilly must have assumed it had been for her.

‘Did you go up on deck to meet her?’

‘I tried. I really tried. Dad had one of his attacks. He served in Afghanistan and Iraq and has these screaming nightmares after a few drinks. That night he got wasted. It was worse than usual. By the time he calmed down, it was after two. Check with the nurse. Karen, I think that’s her name. She came and gave him something so he could sleep.’

Anya would check. If the boy had pulled up the passenger files, it would have been possible to access the staff list as well.

‘What’s your father’s name?’

‘Wesley Meeks Senior. I’m the junior portion. Only I just go by Wes.’

If he had been able to go that night, he could have found Lilly and got her help.

‘Wes, there’s something you need to know. I’m a forensic physician. I wasn’t lying about the homicide. Jasmine’s sister was drugged and died up by the spa that first night.’

He suddenly looked even paler. The violin stopped. Anya knocked. A few moments later, Jasmine opened the door with a piece of paper in her hand. Anya turned to introduce Wesley. He had already gone.

31

Anya arrived back at the suite with Jasmine, who was happy to have a break from her cabin. Ben gave her a giant hug. Martin relayed a message from FitzHarris, who wanted Anya to meet him urgently in his office. She was unsure what to expect and wanted to spend time with Ben. She had promised they would go to cartooning classes later. Martin insisted she go and promised to take Ben if she wasn’t back in time. Ben didn’t seem to mind who he went with. He was infatuated with Jasmine and her musical ability.

A few minutes later, Anya was back in Fitz’s office. The lock on the door had been replaced with an electronic coded version. Laura entered, carrying a laptop.

‘You both need to see this. Fitz said there was no real evidence to say who had been with Lilly Chan, but I did some searching on social network sites and blogs to see if anything had been said about the cruise. These days, if someone makes a cheese sandwich, it’s bound to be posted somewhere.’

Fitz rolled his eyes.

‘Around two hundred passengers have posted so far.’

‘Let me guess,’ he said as he clicked the end of a pen. ‘The usual whining about time taken to board, cost of alcohol, and size of the cabins. Oh yeah, and they want a refund ’cause it’s raining.’

‘Naturally. On the bright side, they all seem to like the food, although one blogger thinks the gluttony is a disgrace and suggests feeding Third World populations with leftovers.’ She looked up. ‘We can’t get medical backup or police on board in the middle of the ocean, but we can fly food off? What goes on in some people’s brains?’

That had been a mystery to Anya all her life. Now the internet had meant anyone with an opinion, no matter how bizarre, could spread it around like a contagious disease.

‘Here’s the post you want to look at though. It’s by someone whose tag is “Hornycollegegirl”. She, and I assume it is a female, brags about an orgy on the first night and how one girl had sex with
heaps of guys
then got so drunk she passed out and peed all over the floor. She says she took photos that were, quote, hilarious.’

Laura read out the post: ‘“I saw a blonde slut having sex in the corridor and got so horny, I could have fucked a doorknob. After this guy with a massive cock finished with this blonde chick, he saw me watching. Then he crawled on his knees and ripped down my thong and . . .” Well, she had sex with him. After that, she says it was the best night – ever.’

Anya was too appalled to speak. Someone had seen Kandy, a fifteen year old, drugged and raped, and saw Lilly raped by ‘heaps of guys’, and laughed about it.

FitzHarris clicked the pen on and off. ‘Could be the one who wet herself was Lilly Chan, although Brian Peterson and the others all denied ever seeing Lilly anywhere but at the disco.’ He slumped in his chair, elbows on the desk, face in his hands. ‘Just when you think humans can’t stoop any lower. What the hell happened to the sisterhood?’

Anya felt a tightening in her throat. ‘The carpet soiling could have been a direct effect of the drugs, or Lilly could have had a seizure.’ This blogger hadn’t thought to check, or call for medical assistance. If she had, Lilly could still be alive. She still had a heart rhythm when Martin found her. Fifteen minutes would have meant the difference between life and death.

‘I feel sick thinking this person is still on board, clueless,’ Laura paused. ‘After that, there are more posts, mostly about who she’s slept with since. She doesn’t use names. She may not even know them.’

From over 3000 passengers, there was a witness to what happened that night. An anonymous one.

‘Is it possible to identify her?’

‘That’s the challenge,’ Laura replied.

‘Can you trace who posted the entries?’ Fitz sounded more like he was giving an order.

‘It will take a lot of man-hours, and it depends on whether the social site gives us the private information. Normally, it takes a police warrant and lots of to-ing and fro-ing to get names and addresses of subscribers. Unless you know a good hacker.’

Anya and FitzHarris looked back at Laura.

‘What? I don’t hack. Seriously . . . Well, OK, maybe I aspired to be a white hacker in my college days, but I couldn’t crack this site.’

Surprisingly, Anya knew just the person who might be able to help.

Anya knocked on the cabin number Karen had given her after she’d confirmed she had seen a war veteran that first night. If Wesley Meeks Jr wasn’t here, Anya’s next stop was the teen club, where she had first seen him at a computer.

It took a moment for anyone to answer. Then Wes appeared, in his trademark black T-shirt and jeans. Only this time, the shirt had an image of Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman from
Casablanca
across the chest. His face dropped when he saw Anya. He tried to block her entry. ‘I’m kinda busy right now, maybe you can come back later.’

He was hiding something. For all she knew, he could have been in the process of hacking into the CIA or World Bank.

‘Can we talk?’

‘Wes!’ A voice came from inside. ‘I’m done.’

‘No, I’m busy. I have to go.’ He went to close the door, but Anya’s foot was already in the way.

‘I don’t mind waiting. Do what you have to.’

Wes stared back, as if contemplating his next move.

‘Son!’

He let out a breath and held the door open while she entered.

‘Dad needs me.’ Wes went into the bathroom and closed the door.

The cabin was larger than the original one she and Ben had shared. The linen, curtains and wall colours were the same. On the lounge sat a guitar with a broken string. A closed laptop computer was next to it.

The double bed was unmade, but the rest of the cabin was surprisingly sparse.

‘Excuse me.’ Wes appeared and headed for the wardrobe. From one of the drawers he pulled out a pair of boxer shorts, then a folded shirt and trousers, before returning to the bathroom.

Anya waited. Ten minutes later, the door opened again. Out came an older man in a wheelchair, clean shaven with wet, combed hair. He was missing an arm and a leg. She immediately regretted coming. Wes was obviously his father’s only carer, no easy task for a teenage boy.

‘Dad, this is the doctor I met. Remember I said she’s happy to talk war stories with you. The stuff she’s seen . . .’

‘Not checking up on me are you?’

‘Dad, she’s Australian.’

Anya wondered why that seemed relevant.

‘Well then, she’s welcome here any time. Your soldiers are some of the best I served with. You guys have been with us all the way. Afghanistan, Iraq.’ He seemed to drift for a moment. ‘Well, you wasted your time. I don’t need no check-up.’

‘I’m actually having computer troubles and your son very kindly offered to help.’

Wes raised an eyebrow.

‘That’s my boy.’ The father beamed. ‘He could do worse than being like that Bill Gates fella.’

‘Maybe we can do this later,’ Anya suggested.

‘No, don’t mind me,’ Mr Meeks said. ‘Wes should get out, maybe meet a nice girl his age.’ He glanced at Anya. ‘No offence.’

‘None taken. I don’t need him for long. And there are some very nice teenage girls on board.’

Wes blushed.

‘Dad, you had a bad night. Are you sure?’

Mr Meeks reached up and patted his son. ‘Hand me the remote for the TV and I’ll be like a pig in poop, as the Aussies say.’

Anya smiled.

‘Do you want me to take the walkie-talkie?’

Mr Meeks chuckled. ‘You’re gonna have to cut them apron strings sometime. Go on, give a man some peace.’

Wes collected the laptop and shoved it into a bag, which he slung over his shoulder. ‘Thanks, Dad. I won’t be long.’

Anya tried to imagine how difficult the situation was for both of them. The veteran needed full-time care, and assistance with even the most basic functions. Wes had a lot more to deal with than bullying and meeting girls he liked.

Neither spoke until they were near the stairwell.

‘Computer trouble?’ Wes slinked along, hair back over his eyes.

‘In a way, yes. But the trouble isn’t necessarily going to be mine.’

He stopped again, and Anya thought he might run. She touched his arm.

‘Or yours. Don’t worry. I’d like to put your skills to good use, and you could be helping Jasmine and her family in the process.’

‘Doctor, something tells me this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’

32

Back in the suite, Ben and Jasmine were playing “Chopsticks” at the piano. Like the first time, they were absorbed in each other’s company. Wes watched them, his face reddening toward the end of the tune. It was introduction time, and Jasmine stood up to shake his hand. Ben offered a perfunctory ‘Hi.’

‘Slight change of plan, Ben,’ Martin interrupted.

Their son’s shoulders slumped. ‘Dad—’

‘How about we go out for hot dogs and bring some back?’

Ben’s response took about a nanosecond. ‘Yay!’

‘Wes, you up for it?’

‘I don’t eat anything from an animal. Hot dogs are made from snouts, ears and blended-up organs from pigs, cows, turkey and chicken. Then they’re stuffed inside animal intestines.’