Deep Blue Death, page 7
Mealtimes in the mess, she was to learn, were very social occasions, providing everyone the chance to catch up on what was happening after the relative isolation of the continual rounds of diving shifts. Being caught up in individually allocated activities during daylight hours didn’t allow for much conversation. So, when they came together in the evening, they made the most of it—even though the meals were served in three sessions due to space.
Jami’s name had been included in the list for the second seating, which was convenient as it was close to her normal eating schedule. It also left sufficient time to catch up with the others in the common room later on. Cole entered her thoughts again, and Jami found herself making a mental note to check the meal schedule and see when he was scheduled to dine. She had no idea why she needed to know this; it certainly wasn’t as if she cared.
Or did she?
She shook her head, willing the idea away. In fact, if she never laid eyes on him again, it would be a blessing.
Her overactive brain refused to settle down that night, so she opted for a stroll around the deck, hoping the fresh night air would relax her enough to sleep.
Not expecting to meet anyone on deck at this late hour, except perhaps a night watchman, she merely slipped a long white t-shirt over her slim, naked frame as she slipped from between the sheets. Nightwear, she’d decided long ago, was far too confining to bother with except in the coldest of climates.
The sea breeze was surprisingly warm against her skin as she padded barefoot across the deck to the bulwark. Except for the stars overhead, the night was almost pitch-black. Same for the water, which looked like murky ink against the side of the ship. There was no other sound besides the ocean’s gentle lapping at the hull. After a time, the repetitive cadence became hypnotic, and Jami found herself relaxing. She was just about to turn away and return to her cabin when a hand on her shoulder shot icy prickles to the top of her head. She whirled around to see Cole Cadman, miraculously stifling the scream that demanded release.
“What in God’s name are you doing out here at three o’clock in the morning?” he said.
With the realization that it was Cole and not someone bent on doing her harm, like the possible assailant of Joshua Meadows—assuming one existed—Jami’s fright turned to outrage. “What are you doing creeping up on me and scaring the living daylights out of me?” she hissed, shoving his hand away. “If you must know, I couldn’t sleep. But I don’t see how that’s any concern of yours.”
The dark shadow cast across Cole’s face failed to conceal his worry, which was highlighted further in his short, rasping words. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but you shouldn’t be out on deck at this hour. It may not be safe.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” she said, dismissing his concern with a wave of her hand. “I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous. What makes you think that a stroll around the deck might be dangerous? Unless you’re thinking there’s someone lurking in the shadows, someone who might have been responsible for Joshua Meadow’s death.”
Cole’s mouth fell open.
She continued like some raving lunatic. “It seems to me, if there’s really nothing to worry about, then you’re displaying a touch of paranoia, Cadman, unless of course you yourself are the villain.” It hadn’t occurred to Jami until just then that Cole might have malevolent intent. The idea turned her knees to jelly, but only momentarily. Even though he was annoying, he always came off as honest and forthright. If he were a villain of any kind, it would be a villain of the heart, she suspected.
His hand returned to her shoulder, then the other hand to her other shoulder, and she felt an almost imperceptible squeeze in his grip. “I think you had better go below,” he said, and she noted the concern in his voice, his attention drawn to something behind her. “Now.”
Jami tried to turn around to see the source of his alarm, but with the weight of both of his large and powerful hands on her shoulders, it was impossible. All she could do was squirm, unsuccessfully.
“Let me go, you idiot,” she hissed, the uncertainty of what was happening behind her, while trapped in Cole’s grip, momentarily tipping the balance of her composure. “You’re scaring me.”
His gaze shifted from the distant spot beyond her right shoulder to her face. The anxiety she saw—or was it contempt?—sent a chill up her spine.
“I said to go inside, and I meant it.”
His words were cold, and try as she might, Jami couldn’t break free while Cole hauled her across the deck toward the door.
“Stop struggling,” he growled. “Just do as I ask.”
The sting in his tone came as a shock and, for a brief moment, rendered her powerless, but his menacing expression prompted greater resistance until she managed to steal a glance out across the ocean.
Off in the distance, a faint light.
“Is … is that another ship?” she whispered.
He grimaced and said, “What light? There’s nothing out here. You’re imagining things.” Cole reached for the door handle, flung it open and tried to thrust Jami through the opening.
His response baffled her. The light was unmistakable. How could he deny its existence? “Don’t try placating me with ridiculous answers, Cole Cadman.” Jami grappled with the door, pushing back with all her strength to stop him from shoving her inside. “I know what I saw, so you can stop the pretense. What’s so threatening about another ship being out there?”
“For God’s sake, Jami,” Cole said, releasing her. “Use your common sense. It’s three o’clock in the morning. Why would anyone approach a historical site at this hour? Just go back to your cabin.”
Jami turned, blocking further movement of the door, her eyes blazing. “I will not.” Their eyes met through the shadows, and she felt a rising pulse of dark energy within him. Every muscle and sinew of his powerful body radiated an anger barely held in check. The word villain reappeared in her thoughts. She swallowed. Hard. Fear and common sense told her to stop resisting, but natural curiosity and blatant willfulness prevented her compliance. She tried to force her way past him and return to the deck.
“Don’t try my patience, Jami. I don’t want you getting involved in this.” His tone was low and menacing, but her curiosity overrode all reason.
“Involved in what?” she demanded. “Tell me what’s going on. Is it about Joshua Meadows?”
His response was to step through the door into the passageway before roughly pulling her after him, whereupon he yanked her close, his face like thunder only inches from her own. Instinctively, her arms pushed against his bare chest, and she felt the heat of his incited body through the thin, white, cotton fabric separating them.
“I am not sure myself what is going on,” he ground out stiffly, making no attempt to release her. “But even if I did, I’m not getting you involved. You’re a volunteer here. The less you know the better. Now go back to your cabin and forget this ever happened.”
For one vivid instant, he remained looming over her in the doorframe, his presence dark and chilling. It was clear Cole meant what he said. He was in no mood to be trifled with. Time to accept defeat.
Trembling, she took a step back. His arms, still encircling her, fell heavily to his sides, and then, with one liquid movement, he swept past her and stepped back onto the deck, the door slamming after him.
Her jelly knees returning, Jami slid down the wall in confused disbelief. What just happened? Why is another ship out there, and why is Cole denying it?
Gathering her wits and summoning her determination yet again, she pushed herself up from the floor and grabbed the door handle. It didn’t budge. Probably locked or jammed from the outside.
Undeterred, she scurried along the passageway. There were other doors that accessed the deck. Failing that, she might be able to see most of whatever was happening outside through a porthole. Unfortunately, her own cabin was below the waterline and didn’t have one.
By the time Jami stealthily re-emerged on deck at the far end of the ship, the mysterious light had vanished. Considering all the possibilities, she decided it could not simply just disappear. It had to be somewhere. Her eyes strained through the darkness for any sign of movement or a faint glow, but there was nothing except a black expanse of water stretching all the way to the horizon.
Cole, too, had vanished.
By her estimate, it had taken her little more than ten minutes to negotiate the passageways leading to the stern. Ample time for a boat to approach, but not for it to leave without a trace—unless, of course, it had done so without navigation lights, which was highly unlikely. The boat must be out there somewhere. It simply had to be.
Slowly she crept along the deck doing a full circuit of the Seaclaim. Nothing. No sign of the boat, or Cole, anywhere. She even peeped inside the observation room on the bridge but found nothing unusual. A wry smile crossed her lips at the sight of the night watchman draped across a chair sound asleep.
Just as Jami decided to return to her cabin, she spotted a dark figure disappearing through a side door. It might have been Cole, but she couldn’t be sure. One thing was certain—whoever it was must have seen her, because from where he had stood, she was clearly visible in the white t-shirt. Again, a chill tingled up her spine, and she hurried back toward the stern passageway and the sanctuary of her little cabin.
If Jami had trouble sleeping earlier, now it was totally impossible. Her mind was consumed by thoughts of murder and piracy on the high seas. Central to these ruminations was Cole Cadman and his involvement with what was obviously some kind of cloak-and-dagger activity.
Did Cole’s agitation and anger have something to do with Joshua Meadows? Or something equally nefarious? Why was Cole lurking about in the first place, and why was he so annoyed by her presence? It all pointed to the fact that he had something to hide.
But what?
Could it be some sort of theft, misappropriating items from the Zuytwyck and selling them on the black market? Maybe Joshua Meadows had been involved in something like that, but how did Cole fit in that scenario? Jami was startled by her own thoughts. Cole Cadman seemed to be too well-known, too well-respected, to be involved in such a conspiracy. Surely, he wouldn’t risk his reputation for a few extra dollars. But it wouldn’t be just a few extra dollars. Millions were at stake if the right buyer was found.
People killed for that kind of money.
It always pained and angered Jami when she heard about the theft of archaeological objects. Not only did it render her occupation somewhat futile, but it robbed the world of its heritage, something every human being was entitled to see, enjoy, and learn from. Stolen objects were invariably damaged in some way by unscrupulous thieves who had no idea how to treat them. Then these precious finds were swallowed up by unscrupulous collectors who were fully aware they were buying stolen property.
A bitter taste rose in her mouth. Surely Cole was not involved in such criminal activities. After all, he had displayed his protective nature toward archaeological sites when she questioned him about the Chinese junk. Because the site was not yet verified and, therefore, had no legal protection, he’d declined to tell her where it was, saying that anyone with the right equipment and know-how could pilfer from the wreck and totally destroy its archaeological value. Surely, that indicated his good intent.
He couldn’t be a killer.
Or could he?
Jami couldn’t help speculating how Cole may not be motivated by the noble ideals he espoused. It was entirely possible he was keeping the location secret for his own benefit. The way he advocated for site protection and preservation could be nothing more than camouflage. On the other hand, Cole had questioned her own motives for raising the subject and persisting with her questions, practically accusing her of unlawful intent. Had that been part of a cover-up as well?
Get over yourself, Jami. You’re overthinking. After all, she had not heard a single report of anything actually being stolen. Somebody would have mentioned it, surely. Even Gail Brennan, who worked in the cataloging room and saw everything brought up from the Zuytwyck, had made no reference to anything going missing.
Then again, maybe she’d stumbled upon the conspiracy before the actual theft. That was certainly possible. But how did Joshua Meadows fit in and why would a boat come all the way out to the reef in the dead of night if not to pick something up? There were so many questions with too few answers, she sighed. There was one thing she was certain of, though—Cole Cadman had to be at the center of the plot, which left her with a major dilemma.
Where did she go from here, and who could she trust?
Sleep had finally found her, but she didn’t feel as rested as she wanted to be. And probably needed to be. Dressed in white shorts and a red blouse, Jami traversed the passageway leading to the mess just as Cole was leaving. He stopped and watched her walk toward him, giving Jami a disconcerting stab of anxiety. His frame loomed large and so commanding it seemed insane to challenge him on any level. Again, she was weakened by his handsome features—and at the same time, dismayed by feeling that way.
Was he really a criminal? Certainly, he didn’t look like the criminal type, but then who did? They stopped wearing black hats and looking mean with the advent of technicolor. As the space between them shortened, Jami stepped aside, pausing long enough to study his eyes, hoping to see some telltale sign of felonious intent. She was met only with a frown. She looked away and moved toward the mess, aware his gaze was still on her.
“Perhaps I’ll have that second cup of coffee after all,” Jami heard him say.
Jami cursed under her breath. Could it be that Cole intended to keep her under close observation until he was sure she wouldn’t cause trouble? If she was correct, this surely indicated a level of guilt on his part.
Cole poured two mugs of freshly brewed coffee and handed her one, a butter-would-not-melt-in-his-mouth smile across his face. Her scowl did nothing to deter him from plonking down opposite her at the table.
“Thank you,” she said flatly, diverting her attention to the egg and English muffin sitting on her plate.
“How did you sleep?” Jack asked her, breaking off his conversation with John and Gail, who appeared to have resolved their differences.
“Not very well, actually,” she replied, spearing the yellow yolk with her knife. “I ended up roaming about on deck at three o’clock in the morning because I was too restless to sleep.”
She had no need to look at Cole to feel him stiffen, but she was not about to be intimidated into silence. “I saw the light of a boat approaching —”
“I was on deck as well. Didn’t see anything like that,” Cole interjected. “It was a very quiet night with nothing out of the ordinary happening. You sure it wasn’t a reflection of the moon, Jami?”
“I am not mistaken,” she countered, her tone level and controlled, knowing all too well what he was playing at. It would be far easier for him to deny everything than to try to lie his way out of any involvement with illegal activities. She added, “I saw your reaction to the light, by the way, my interpretation being that it was far from a typical nighttime occurrence and definitely not a reflection of the moon. Besides, you hustled me downstairs so fast I hardly knew what was happening, but I was certainly aware there was a boat of some sort out there, despite your efforts to prevent me from seeing it.” She lifted her chin and took a big bite of the muffin, defiant.
The all-too-familiar smirk spread across his face. “Jami, there was no mystery boat out there last night. You were confused, which is precisely why I suggested you return to your cabin and get some sleep. You must have dreamed it. The mind can play tricks after a strenuous dive.”
Jami had to almost pick her jaw up from the floor before she could speak. “You … you and I both know it was no dream,” she spluttered. “It was as real as we are all sitting here right now, and I resent you trying to trivialize the importance of what I saw by making everyone believe I’m incapable of knowing fact from fantasy simply to save your skin. Next you’ll be saying I have an unstable mind and should be removed from the expedition. That’s what you’ve wanted from the moment you set eyes on me, isn’t it?”
“Whoa,” cried Jack Howard, throwing up his hands in a show of disbelief at what he was hearing. “What’s happening here? Cole isn’t the sort of person you belittle or cast dispersions on without solid proof, Miss Laramie. I’ve known him for a long time, and he’s a good, honest man. Perhaps you can better explain just what you mean in my office, yes?” He cocked an eyebrow as the entire space grew silent.
Jami winced. So, it was back to Miss Laramie now. Evidently, she’d now aggravated Jack too. Would it be enough for him to dismiss her? To terminate her voluntary time with the expedition? Should she stand her ground or let the matter slide? What was more important—the truth and her pride, or the learning experience the Zuytwyck project offered in furthering her career?
“It’s all right, Jack,” Cole said. “That won’t be necessary. Jami’s just tired and under a bit of stress after her travels. Yesterday wasn’t exactly without its difficulties either. It was a deeper dive than she’s used to. She’ll be okay in a day or so.” He reached for her hand.
She pulled away. “I don’t need you to make excuses for me,” she shot back. “And I am not stressed out as you would like everyone here to believe.” She was so angry she felt tears brimming. Frustrated with her emotions, she dropped her gaze to her lap and took some fortifying breaths.
“Be that as it may,” Jack said, “I think you’d better not dive today.”
Jami straightened and lifted her eyes. “No, please.”
Jack waved his fork around. “It’s decided. No arguments. Perhaps we started you too soon. There is plenty of work for you to do in C&C. Gail can always use an extra pair of hands.”
Jami’s spirit plummeted. How was she going to learn if she wasn’t allowed to dive? Would he say the same thing again tomorrow? Would he forbid her to dive again? Sure, she could learn a lot from Gail, but that wasn’t what she was here for. She wanted hands-on marine archaeology experience, and that meant diving on the Zuytwyck. “But I feel up to diving today,” she protested.
