Haunted Destiny (24 page)

Alexi surveyed the room. No one was paying attention to them. She didn't see Jensen; Bradley was talking to the rest of Clara's crew.

She lowered her voice. “Clara, which of the guys on this cruise have asked you out? Or come on to you? I'm going to mention some names.”

Clara raised her brows. “I don't mean this to sound like bragging, but we're on a ship. Just about every guy who's straight and available has made some kind of innuendo.”

“Simon?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. Either that or he wanted to let me know that even though he loves his gay friends, he's heterosexual himself.”

“Roger Antrim, by any chance?”

“Antrim?” She shook her head. “He's always with Lorna when I see him and he behaves just as a married man should.”

“Jensen.”

“Hell, yeah. He's a jerk.”

“Hank Osprey?”

Clara laughed. “Not in ages. I'm happy for him. He seems to have found true love. Hey, we don't know very much about Ginny. She might be telling the truth about being a student, but maybe she's a Bourbon Street hooker, on the side. But if they're making each other happy, who cares?”

“I agree.” Alexi saw that the group on the dais was beginning to disperse.

Bradley came to the piano. “You get a night off, Alexi. And no rehearsal, Clara.”

“Thanks.” Clara looked downward and then sideways at Alexi. “Greatly appreciated. It was a really long day.”

Their boss ignored her reference to the fact that he'd called on them for many more hours than they were contractually obligated to provide.

“You're probably going to be on tomorrow. They'll get this lighting thing solved and we'll be done with the storm. We'll try to give the passengers good memories of their trip, right?”

“Only the best!” Alexi said cheerfully.

“You're free to go now,” he told them.

Simon and a few others had turned to leave and were already on their way out.

“Wait!” Wilcox snapped. “We let the guests go first. Show some courtesy!”

A few cast members hadn't heard him—or pretended not to. With a grunt of irritation, Wilcox moved away from the piano and toward the door.

“Nice of him to thank us!” Alexi said sarcastically.

“Yes, I'm sure our efforts will make all the difference,” Clara retorted.

“Yeah, these passengers will have the best of memories—a massive explosion and a murder in Cozumel, stormy seas...a killer on board. Great memories, all right.”

Clara shivered. “The room's clearing out. I don't even see Bradley anymore. Let's get to our cabins.”

“We're supposed to wait for Jude,” Alexi began, but Clara nudged her. “The government men aren't here, but we're covered.

Clara indicated the big man waiting for the two of them and their entertainment group. “Johnny's over there. I'm betting he's been assigned to see us safely to our cabins. I've changed my mind about staying by myself. I'm going to put on some flannel pajamas, get cuddly and warm and come stay in your cabin. Okay?”

“Sounds good to me,” Alexi said.

Most of the performers had moved out by now, ignoring Wilcox. The dining room was empty except for a few of the waitstaff, who were doing their best in the gloomy light to get things cleaned up.

Johnny was a great security officer—and a friend. He linked arms with the two women. “It's my pleasure to be your escort!” he told them.

Alexi smiled at him. She wished Jude was with her.

Johnny was the next best thing.

“Thank you,” Alexi said fervently, and Clara echoed the words.

The hallways outside the dining room had almost emptied out. “Elevators were set to work using the auxiliary power on this ship, but they might be slow and busy. Shall we take the stairs?” Johnny suggested.

“Stairs work for me,” Alexi said.

“Love stairs,” Clara chimed in.

A woman walking in front of them tripped; Johnny released Clara and Alexi, ready to help her.

But a passenger by her side was there before Johnny could move. “You okay?” Johnny asked the woman, taking her other arm and guiding her to her feet.

“Fine, thank you both,” the woman said. “Embarrassed, but fine!”

“If you're hurt,” Johnny told her, “I can take you to the infirmary. You're sure you can walk?”

“Yes,” the woman said. “I'm mortified but otherwise okay.”

Johnny thanked the passenger who'd assisted her, and the two of them went on. “Trying times,” he murmured. “They can bring out the best in us—and they can bring out the worst.”

They reached the landing of the next deck; the woman and the man who'd helped her walked to the cabin hallways. Alexi saw that two security officers were on duty, watching both sides of the hall.

Except that was going to be more difficult now. The auxiliary lights created a strange yellow glow.

And a realm of shadows.

“Hard for you guys to see, huh?” Alexi asked.

“Don't you worry. I have great eyesight,” Johnny assured her.

Alexi smiled at his response but still felt uneasy.

She doubted he could see the entire length of the hallways, not in the meager light that shone with such an eerie glimmer, and that pale illumination so close to the floor.

They came to Clara's cabin, and she went inside.

“I'll be with you in a few minutes, Alexi.”

“Okay, see you then.”

Alexi knew she wouldn't be a very effective buffer against any danger that threatened them, but Jude would be coming back to her cabin. And that was a comforting thought.

And in the meantime, it was better to be scared together than to sit in the dim light and be scared alone.

Johnny stopped at her doorway and waited for her to step inside.

For a moment Alexi felt sheer panic.

What if they'd all been wrong? What if they'd missed something?

What if Johnny was a serial killer, and somehow, his records had been disguised to hide his past?

“Here we are. Now, lock yourself in, safe and sound,” he said firmly.

She smiled, the tension leaving her.

“Johnny, you haven't heard if something else has happened, have you?”

“All I can tell you is that the lights went out. Who knows why? It's a bad storm. The
Destiny
's undergone millions of dollars in restoration, but it's still an old ship.”

She nodded, searching his face.

Something
had
happened, even if
Johnny didn't know what it was. That was why Jude wasn't with her.

She wished she could run through the ship looking for him.

But that would be stupid, almost akin to suicidal stupidity. She was a target, and she'd been told to lock herself in her cabin. If she did that, the killer couldn't reach her. “Johnny, you're a sweetheart. Thank you and good night.” She stepped into her cabin and leaned against the door, looking around. She knew her tiny space so well. This same cabin had been her home several times now. Her desk—with the list of medallions still on it. Her bed...

Where she'd learned to live again, love again—with Jude.

She wished the electricity hadn't gone out, that there was more than the pale auxiliary lighting. The thought of brushing her teeth and getting ready for bed in the semi-dark wasn't one she relished.

She wasn't sure why, but she was suddenly afraid of her bathroom.

And that was ridiculous! There was no way she'd be able to avoid going into her bathroom.

She sighed, prepared to push away and open the bathroom door so she could wash her face, brush her teeth, get ready for bed. Clara would be there soon.

And then she saw a change in the strange yellowish haze pervading the small cabin; it was a form, a shadow, something taking shape.

Her heart seemed to leap into her throat.

Then she realized it was Byron.

“Run, Alexi! Run!” She frowned; she could barely hear him, barely see him...

“Run!” he shouted again.

And she saw that her bathroom door was opening.

Someone was in there!

Someone...

Was waiting for her.

Byron threw himself ineffectually at the door.

Alexi turned and yanked open the door to her cabin, then stepped out into the hallway and pulled it shut. Johnny was there; he was somewhere down at the end, near the elevators.

She couldn't see him! The cabin door opened behind her.

She was being pursued!

She screamed as loudly as she could.

And she ran.

* * *

Great.

The ship being plunged into darkness was only causing more problems, even when the auxiliary lights were on.

But they all moved as efficiently as possible.

Radio communication with the bridge assured Jude that the dining room was being shut down and all personnel were being directed to their rooms.

David Beach called Jude to tell him that Alexi and Clara were fine. He said Johnny was with them. Then he hesitated. “I'm missing another man. The guard who was watching Roger and Lorna Antrim. We can't find him.”

Jude swore softly. “If he's found, let us know right away. Let's hope he's all right.”

At least Alexi and Clara were safe, which was a relief.

He and Jackson were on their way to the Antrims' suite to escort Roger to the infirmary when they received another call from Beach.

“It's the reverend,” Beach told them. “He sounds hysterical. He wants us in the chapel. Now.”

Jude knew—long before they'd reached the chapel—what they were going to find.

He was right. Flora Winters was there.

She'd had her head bashed in; that was evident, from the blood dripping down her forehead and matting her hair.

Then her throat had been slit. She was missing a shoe. She'd been left in front of the altar, but she hadn't been posed like the Archangel's other victims had been. She'd just been dumped there. “No medallion,” Jackson said, hunkered down by the body.

“No, she isn't one of the victims the Archangel wants,” Jude said. “Somehow, she and Lorna got in the way, or else...”

“Or else the killer is Roger Antrim.”

“But that doesn't make sense,” Jude argued. “He'd have to move pretty damn fast. Getting to Flora's cabin, knocking her out, then injecting Lorna with the insulin and leaving her to die. Getting Flora here. And after all that, going back to take a shower and call security to say his wife is missing. It doesn't add up.”

“Flora knew,” Jackson said. “She knew we'd find out who her husband sold the medallions to.”

“Well, we'll get that information once we hit Miami,” Jude said, thinking it through. “Unless...”

“Unless?”

“He doesn't care anymore. He wants to finish his task, find his actress and his musician and kill them right now. And then...give himself up,” Jude said grimly. “Or kill himself.” He turned to Beach and to the Reverend Mike. “How long were you away from the chapel?” he asked.

“I was asked to visit a sick guest,” Mike said. “That was just after five. She said she'd been in the Egyptian Room, playing the games until they ended. But then she felt sick and she called me. I went from there straight to dinner. However, I guarantee that I left the chapel locked.”

“Someone has the keys,” Beach said. “Someone's accessed all the
Destiny
's keys.”

Someone had accessed all the
Destiny
's keys?
How the hell?

Beach cursed angrily. “There's a master key...hangs on a hook just inside the captain's cabin. Wonder if we'll find out it's gone?”

“Call the captain,” Jude said.

Beach did so, then nodded grimly. “Gone.”

Jude had expected as much. “Get the doctor up here. Help him move the body into the infirmary. We can't wait for the proper medical authorities because of the time it'll take to reach port. I know I don't need to tell you this, but please—”

“Watch for any possible trace evidence on the body,” Beach said.

“Yeah,” Jude agreed. He closed his eyes for a moment. He'd really liked Flora Winters.

But he couldn't mourn her now. “Beach, close the infirmary and put two guards up here. I'm convinced this killer is going to try to finish up tonight. Jackson—”

“Yes,” Jackson said. “Alexi and Clara. They're in serious danger.”

Jude was on his way out, running for the stairs while Jackson was still speaking.

* * *

Alexi couldn't see Johnny. She couldn't see anyone at all.

Suddenly, a door in the employee hallway burst open.

“Alexi!”

She blinked. It was Jensen Hardy. “Alexi, come on! Into my cabin.”

He grabbed for her, and in raw panic, she jerked back, away from him.

She half turned. And saw, in the strange light, that someone was still chasing her. Someone who'd been in her room.

Alexi started to run again. She hoped Jensen had locked himself back in his cabin.

Johnny had to be there, had to be at the elevators.

She heard a scream—a scream of surprise, horror and pain.

She paused, turning back. There was a body on the floor, writhing and crying out.

And, in the weird, murky yellow light, she saw that someone was stepping over the body. Someone holding something.

A knife.

And now it dripped blood.

16

T
he door to Alexi's cabin gaped open. Jude knew she wasn't going to be there.

Still, he looked as Jackson rushed ahead to knock on Clara's door, identifying himself.

Jude hadn't made it all the way in when he heard moaning. He ran out to the hallway. Doors were opening all along the hall; entertainers were coming out, speaking in panicked voices.

“There was a scream, a terrible scream,” Ralph said, clinging to Larry's arm.

“I tried to go out,” Larry said. “To see what was wrong.”

“I stopped him!” Ralph shrieked. “There was a killer out there.”

Jude ignored them all, racing down the hall. He dropped to his knees beside the moaning body.

He recognized one of the security guards. There was blood all around him, but he was struggling to sit up, tears in his eyes. “Alexi...killer...”

“Don't try to speak,” Jude said.

He turned to see Jackson coming down the hallway with Clara. Jude felt something like a waft of air against his cheek.

Barbara Leon had come to this injured person, too.

“It's not a mortal wound,” she said. “The killer was in too big a hurry to catch Alexi. Wrap his throat. At least the bastard didn't hit an artery or a vein.”

Simon had come out of his cabin and stood nearby; he pulled off his nightshirt and handed it to Jude, who swiftly tore it into strips. He made a bandage, stopping the flow of blood from the area just above the guard's collarbone.

Jackson had placed Clara into the safekeeping of another security officer, who'd just arrived on the scene.

Jude leaped to his feet and dashed down the hallway to the elevators and the exit to the stairs, Jackson close behind.

Johnny? Where the hell was Johnny? He would've stayed with Alexi unless...

Jude found him, on the floor, trying to get up.

“Johnny!” he said, crouching beside him.

“Arm broken...concussion... I'm okay, go!” Johnny said.

“Where?”

Johnny shook his head. “She...ran to me...for help. I went over to her and he was on me... She stopped to come back, to help me. He only left me alive to chase her. Go!”

Jude stood. “Where, Johnny? Which way did she run?”

“To the stairs! Up... She ran up the stairs. Go, Jude, go, for the love of God...”

Jude didn't need his directive.

He was already taking the stairs, two at a time.

* * *

The vast ship was oddly empty.

Alexi made it up to the Promenade Deck; no one was there. She wondered what had happened to security here.

Yet, how could security help? The killer was on the officers the second she ran to them. The guard in the hallway. And Johnny...Johnny...her fault. She prayed that the killer had been too intent on her to finish Johnny off.

On the Promenade Deck, she looked desperately for a hiding space.

The shops were closed.

Cafés closed...

The Picture Gallery was farther down the length of the ship.

The ghost ship! Oh, God, it seemed like a ghost ship now!

And it was!

She glanced to her left and nearly screamed, but managed to stop herself. She wasn't alone. Private Jimmy Estes was running with her.

“He knows the ship, Alexi, but you do, too. This way... There are rows of pictures in the gallery. You can get lost in them and listen, listen for him. I'll be with you... I'll do what I can.”

“I'm here, too, Alexi,” Private Frank Marlowe said, running on her other side. “We'll do whatever we can.”

The Picture Gallery was just ahead and Alexi raced toward it.

There were false walls set up in rows and at different angles to display the photographs of passengers, smiling as they boarded the ship.

There was also a section of pictures taken as passengers left the ship, preparing to spend the day in Cozumel. Pictures with local Mexican women in colorful garb, pictures with parrots and with people dressed in ancient Mayan attire.

Alexi ran past them all.

She dove behind a wall filled with photographs of elegantly dressed people ready for the captain's dinner. She paused, doubled over, gasping for breath.

Then she heard him.

He was running—until he reached the Picture Gallery. She listened intently. He's stopped near the entrance, trying to hear her.

She hardly dared to breathe.

“Alexi! I know you're here. And I'm sorry, but it's time for you to go. It'll be quick, I promise. I don't want to hurt you. I'm afraid that you...well, you're among the women who have to pay for their crimes. You told me you were engaged once. And he died, a poor soldier died. And you weren't even waiting for him. You were working, working, working. Your music was more important to you than his love—or mine. Oh, Alexi. I gave you a chance! But...it's your time. In another world, you'll learn.”

She listened, thinking that a week ago, even days ago, she would've been shocked to recognize the voice now speaking to her.

He was calm. His tone was well modulated.

“Alexi, don't add to your pain! I will find you. I knew that this medallion was just for you. There could be no other.”

She wanted to scream and shout. She wanted to tell him that he was a sad, pathetic man—and his beliefs and his behavior would keep any woman from desiring him.

She wanted to tell him he'd be caught. She wanted to confront him, hurt him for all the pain he'd caused.

But she knew she had to keep silent. Absolutely silent.

She'd run screaming through the ship; now it was time for silence. But someone—Jude, Jackson, the ship's security officers—had to be after him. He was just one man. He could be stopped. He
would
be stopped.

She prayed it was while she was still alive!

“I'm coming for you, Alexi.”

She held still, closing her eyes to better listen.

He was moving toward her, moving around the walls and walls of pictures.

Suddenly, Jimmy was in front of her, handsome in his uniform, beckoning to her. She realized she had to move; the Archangel was coming around the false wall where she'd taken refuge.

Private Frank Marlowe was behind her. He slammed a wall with all his ethereal strength.

And made a noise.

The killer turned, moving backward.

Alexi ran again, ran for her life.

Heading down the stairs to the St. Charles Deck, she was stunned to crash into Simon Green.

For a moment she was paralyzed, riddled by confusion. What the hell was Simon doing out here? He should've been back in his cabin...

“Simon,” she began. “Why are you—”

Could he be with the killer? Could the two of them be working in tandem? No, the murders had been committed by one man. That was what Jude had said.

“Simon,” she repeated.

The killer had been behind her in the gallery. She'd known the voice.

But there was no way he could've gotten ahead of her, so Simon really was trying to save her.

She could hear the footsteps coming now...coming closer.

Simon frowned. “He's here, right? The guy who killed the woman in Mexico? Oh, my God, it's the Archangel! I don't know where the hell everyone else is, but I'll protect you!” Simon vowed.

“Simon, why are you here? What made you come here?” she demanded, still wary.

Simon caught her arms, shaking his head in confusion. “Alexi! You were screaming. I've been trying to find you. Oh, my God, what's going on? There's a guy on the ground in our hallway...a security officer. I don't know if he's dead or alive. I don't know what's going on, but I'm going to help you—”

No, he couldn't help her.

“Run!” she told him. “Simon, I'm begging you, run. Please!”

“Alexi, I may be a chorus guy, but I'm not a coward! We can take him. I'll—”

“No, please run! We have to run! We can't beat him. Simon, damn it, he has one big-ass knife. Come on. Simon, listen to me, it's going to take more than two of us to overpower him. You have to believe me!” They'd been talking, talking too loudly. The killer knew exactly where they were. And she knew exactly where he was, from the telltale sound of his footsteps. He was still above them in the Picture Gallery, but he was making his way to the stairs. She understood, far too late to save herself, that she'd known the Archangel for some time. She hadn't suspected him, but she—like the other victims he'd targeted—had turned him down.

“Simon, follow me! We have to get to security, to someone who can stop him!” she said, trying to drag him with her.

He shook her off. “Alexi, whoever the hell this bastard is,
I
will stop him!”

“No!” She pulled fiercely on his arm. “Simon, let's go!”

He looked at her solemnly. “Chorus, Alexi—not coward.”

“It has nothing to do with courage!” she cried.

But Simon slipped from her grasp and headed back up the stairs.

“No, no!” she breathed.

He didn't heed her warning; she heard him confront the killer.

And then she heard his scream as he came tumbling down the stairs, thrown by the killer who was pursuing her again.

She'd looked frantically around the St. Charles Deck. She prayed that Simon wouldn't be killed—that the Archangel wouldn't stop and make sure he was dead.

She paused briefly to listen.

Judging by his footsteps, the Archangel didn't check to see if Simon was dead; he was hurrying after her, stalking her with single-minded intensity.

“Alexi... Alexi... I'll find you. You're beginning to get on my nerves now, you know. Kind of like that stupid Flora Winters. Couldn't leave well enough alone. Oh, she suspected me, suspected that I had the medallions. Even figured out how I got them. They'll find out, of course, who bought them for me. I knew about them before. My grandmother had purchased a set for my grandfather before the war. It was during their honeymoon in Italy, you know. She wanted him to be safe, no matter what the service asked of him. She was a good woman. She stayed home. She looked after his children. She cleaned his house. She cooked. She knew what it was to be a wife.”

Alexi realized she was making her way to the piano bar.

Why? Where would I hide there?

“Alexi, I have to finish this task tonight. Damn it, Alexi! I still have to go back and track down Clara. There's one more medallion that must find its place—after I've finished with you.”

* * *

Jude reached the Promenade Deck, which was eerily silent.

He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs. Scream at the Archangel, tell him he was a dead man.

But he forced himself to silence. If he called out, he'd warn the killer—who might have Alexi. Jude had to reach them. He had to reach them before...

He didn't dare think. Refused to imagine what the Archangel might do to the woman he loved.

As quietly as he could, he moved along the Promenade. Past locked shops, cafés with the grating closed, elegant facades and an Irish pub.

He neared the end of the row and arrived at the Picture Gallery. The walls of photos seemed to provide a never-ending array of hiding places. He started to go from row to row, moving as silently as possible, Glock drawn and ready.

But he found no one.

Then, he heard moans coming from the stairway.

Jude rushed to the stairs and then tore down them.

He discovered Simon Green stretched out awkwardly on the bottom step. When he bent down, Simon opened his eyes—and they widened with horror as he saw Jude and the Glock in his hand.

“No, no...”

“Simon, I'm not going to hurt you! Are you bleeding? Are you...”

He couldn't ask the man if he was dying.

Simon answered his unspoken question. “No...not dying. Jude, quick, go... That way...down to the St. Charles Deck.” Simon gasped, his face constricted with pain.

Jude nodded. “All right. Thank you.”

He should've stayed with Simon; at the very least, he should have pulled out the walkie-talkie and called for help. But Simon grabbed his arm and whispered, “No time! No time, go. Me—it's just my leg. Broken. He's got a knife... It's Hank! Hank Osprey. He hardly even saw me. I was just...just something in his way.”

How long could Alexi run?

Jude nodded again. He stood and started down the length of the St. Charles. Then he stopped.

There were so many places on this deck where they might have gone. He hesitated for a few seconds, praying. He couldn't make a mistake.

Alexi might be out of time.

“Someone!” he whispered. “Please...help.”

And then he saw a soldier. The man materialized slowly, but he seemed anxious. Jude had never seen him before. He hadn't met him at the infirmary.

This soldier hadn't fought in World War II.

But he was urging Jude onward.

It was Zachary Wainwright. Alexi's fiancé. Jude was sure of it.

And followed him.

* * *

Alexi knew that Hank was directly behind her. If he caught up with her, no matter how hard she struggled, she was going to die. He was wielding a knife.

At the entrance to the Algiers Saloon, she paused for a split second.

Then she ran over to the piano bench and sat down. She began to play, hoping that if a security officer was anywhere nearby, he'd hear.

And he'd come to her rescue...

Someone
would come.

Blake and Minnie appeared, Minnie on her right side, Blake on her left.

“You must keep him talking,” Minnie said.

“Yes...talk, play—and keep the piano between you and him, Alexi,” Blake told her. “This is his favorite place. He's always loved being here. Maybe he became rich and famous as a computer genius but always wanted to be a singer? Make him talk to you. Even beg him to explain.”