"I'm sorry," she said.

He was quiet for a long time. Then he said, "We lost a child. Lily. She was three."

"Oh, I am so sorry."

"Kathy is a good person. We just drifted apart. Maybe we were drifting before we found out that Lily was sick. She was premature, and then her heart didn't...didn't grow the way it should have. We weren't unkind to each other, we just couldn't stay together. Lily had become our only common ground. When we lost our little girl, we had nothing." He stroked her cheek. "And I don't think I've really had anything since."

Alexi couldn't begin to imagine the pain of losing a child. A little girl, just three years old.

"I am so sorry," she said again. There was nothing else to say.

"Thank you. I think I grew cynical about my so-called psychic ability or whatever you want to call it. If I did have a talent, I should've been able to...tell her it would be okay. That there was something beautiful she'd go to. I had this terrible helpless feeling. I couldn't protect her. I couldn't protect her from...her damaged heart."

Alexi touched his face gently. "You didn't see her because you loved her, because she was young and innocent-and there is something better and that's where she is."

"I like to believe that," he said. "I have to believe it."

"You know it's true," Alexi said. "You know, because you've met those who aren't ready to go yet. And if they're here..."

He sat up suddenly. "Someone in the hall," he said.

He bounded cleanly from the bed, hopping over her.

He did go to the door naked-and with his gun.

But he returned the gun to its holster on her dressing table, then lifted the bedcovers and crawled in beside her.

"Who was it?" she asked.

"One of David Beach's security men. Doing his job," he said. "Enough sadness." He looked as if he wanted to say more.

He didn't.

Instead, he kissed her.

And then...they made love again.

8.

Just before 8 a.m., Jude entered the office he and Jackson had been a.s.signed. Not many hours' sleep, but he felt as if he could face the world.

He'd left Alexi sleeping peacefully.

He'd been happy just watching her sleep. She was beautiful with her dark red hair curling over the sheets, a slight smile on her face even as she slept. But he knew it was much more that had drawn her to him. She had charm, evident when she worked, but there was something far deeper than that, as well. Maybe it had been her determination in tracking him down to try to convince him he'd been chasing a ghost. She fought for what she believed was right. She had the sense to be afraid-and yet sprang into action-maybe a little too easily when she thought a friend was in danger.

Part of it might have been their shared talent, or even the losses they'd experienced in their lives. And then, of course, who knew why, in a world of possibilities, certain people were simply attracted to certain others. He felt he'd been lucky enough to meet an exceptional young woman and that, for these moments at least, he'd been blessed.

He booted up the computer he'd been given for this detail and immediately heard a beeping sound.

Incoming computer call.

He answered it quickly and saw Angela Hawkins, Jackson's lovely coworker and wife, pop onto his screen.

"Good morning," he said. "Jackson should be in shortly."

"That's fine," she told him. "I tried just now. Apparently, weather down in the Caribbean is getting rougher. If you have a chance, look up the 'cones of probability' as to where the storm might go."

"Okay, yeah, haven't had a chance yet," Jude said. "I understand that Captain Thorne is supposed to have led ships through bad storms before, so I think we're okay there."

"Yes, he has an exceptional record," she agreed. "We've investigated him, too, of course."

Jude smiled. "Of course."

"The thing is, they're ordering him to stall where he is. Those cones I was telling you about are all over the map. One has this system-Dinah, which reached tropical storm status at 5 a.m.-heading straight for Southwest Florida. Another has it moving toward New Orleans, and one had it going at a southwesterly angle toward Belize and Central America. Anyway, communication could get harder, so if I see one of you face-to-face, I'll know all my information's gotten through to you."

"Do you have anything new?"

"Just one significant piece of information that should help you. We've cleared Ralph Martini. He was on a ship that made port in Miami at the time the murders were committed there, but we tracked down the driver who brought him straight from the ship to the airport-and have him on a puddle jumper down to Key West. While it would theoretically have been possible to drive back up to Miami during that time, we have a 'fan cam' video of him performing at a karaoke club there, and we have room service bills and bank and traffic cameras showing him in Key West. The hotel where he stays also has cameras at the entry. In other words, he could not have committed the murders in either Miami or Fort Lauderdale. Oh, we also talked to the driver who picked him up from MIA to bring him back to the port. Ralph's definitely not our man."

"How are you doing with the others?" Jude asked. "In particular, Larry Hepburn."

"We have agents in the Miami office tracking down his friends and acquaintances. He kept his residence on the ship while he was in port there. So far, we know he went to a rock concert, a ball game-Marlins vs. the Phillies-and a party. He was back on the ship soon after each event, and it's highly unlikely he had enough time in Miami to commit the murders there. Not only that, he probably couldn't have attended these events and gotten up to Fort Lauderdale."

"It's only about thirty miles, right?"

"Of endless traffic," Angela said. "But, there's a slim possibility that Hepburn could have carried out the murders. Very slim."

"And the rest of them?" Jude asked. "How are we doing?"

"It's more difficult to tell with Hank Osprey and Roger Antrim. People with money can whisk themselves away. They both have homes in the Miami area, and they were both there-as well as in the other locations. But their expenses are checking out as regular expenses. Gas stations, restaurants. I've looked into their histories of attending auctions. However, it's quite possible that someone bought those medallions at a flea market and that's painstaking to trace. But we're doing our best."

"You know anything more about Jensen Hardy, our eternally cheerful cruise director?"

"Just that he's eternally cheerful?" Angela said drily. "We're tracking his movements. He was in the ports where the murders took place at the relevant times, but we can't prove or disprove his possible involvement. He was at the ports legitimately, working on two different ships for the Celtic American line."

Jude was writing on his scratch pad as he listened to her. He knew that the teams in the field would be thorough, and he was sure that in Jackson's Krewe of Hunters offices, every method of tracing suspects was being used.

It wasn't part of "seeing ghosts" and had nothing to do with technology, but last night he'd had the gut feeling that Ralph and Larry were just what they appeared to be-entertainers who liked to keep their private lives private. The world might be a more accepting place these days, but he respected their right to privacy regarding their feelings for each other, since prejudice still existed in many forms.

So...

Roger Antrim.

Hank Osprey.

Simon Green.

Jensen Hardy.

David Beach, eliminated. Ralph and Larry, eliminated. Bradley Wilc.o.x. A mean b.a.s.t.a.r.d and an idiot, but...eliminated.

They were down to four men.

"Thank you, Angela," he said.

"I wish I was there with you," she said. "I won't be able to join you, though, not with this storm."

"We're doing all right on our own," he told her. "Well, with your help we are because of the way you're narrowing things down for us. We're watching four people now, and that's a h.e.l.l of a lot easier than the whole ship at first, and then eight."

Jackson walked into the office and Jude brought him up to speed, informed him that he was going to check out the events at the pool and stepped out of their office cabin.

He'd give the two of them a few minutes of privacy, even if it was over the internet.

He stopped by his cabin to change into appropriate poolside attire. After, he knocked lightly on Alexi's cabin door. It opened instantly.

"Hey," he reproved her. "You just opened that door!"

"I knew it was you," she said. "I looked."

"Ah."

"You're going swimming?" she asked.

"Are you allowed-going by the company rules-to be at the pool?"

Alexi nodded. "As long as I'm not taking a lounger a guest might want."

"I don't think the pool area will be full."

"I don't think anything's going to be full, other than the ship's infirmary. I don't usually get seasick, but I'm willing to bet the nurses and doctors are busy today," Alexi said.

He didn't tend to get seasick, either, or suffer any kind of motion sickness. But he was sure a lot of people would be looking a little green today.

"I want to see what's going on poolside. Care to join me?" he asked.

"Okay. Give me a minute to change," Alexi said.

"I'll wait here."

He probably should've been feeling guilt and remorse about their relationship; being with Alexi last night certainly wasn't commendable under the circ.u.mstances.

But he didn't feel guilty. He felt right-for the first time in a very long while.

She emerged in a matter of minutes, a lace cover-up over her suit, a straw bag under her arm and sandals on her feet.

"No big-brimmed hat?" he asked her as they walked to the elevators.

"No sun," she told him, grinning. "There's never any sun at the pool. On the Destiny, the pool's covered. She was originally an ocean liner and when she traveled the northern Atlantic, the weather would often have been chilly. So...they built a pool inside," she said. "And while the ship may be sailing the Caribbean now and not the Atlantic, it's lucky for anyone who wants to swim today that the pool's on an inside deck. Oh, I tried to get more information on the storm. Apparently, it's just sitting over Cozumel. They're in worse shape there than we are on the ship."

"I haven't heard from Capitan Suarez," Jude told her. "They must be battling harsh circ.u.mstances while they're trying to investigate. This storm swept up so fast there was no time to prepare."

"Are you from New Orleans?" she asked.

"I am. I grew up a block off Frenchman Street," Jude replied.

"Then you should know that storms can whip up-and despite all the hard work by the world's best meteorologists, they aren't predictable. They can stall, move, stall. And they go wherever they choose. Apparently, the storms aren't always aware of the cones of probability."

"Good point." She searched his eyes. "What are you expecting to hear from Capitan Suarez? There are dozens of possibilities. The explosion and fire might have been an accident. Human error. Faulty equipment. Or maybe someone had a grudge against the owner. What could any of that have to do with the Archangel?"

"Chaos," Jude said.

"Chaos?"

"No one knows where anyone else was during that time. Look at how easily you got separated from your friends. I was certainly distracted by the explosion. All over the area, people were distracted. And every one of our suspects managed to disappear for several hours."

"You think that the explosion was a ploy by the killer-because he knows he's being watched? But I thought you'd heard that Seora Maria made it home fine."

"Yes. I'd like to reach Suarez and find out if she's still fine-and if he's had a chance to search the local churches."

"I'm sure they've been doing that-"

"And I'm equally sure that an American agent asking them to go through the various churches in the midst of being continually pummeled by a tropical storm is not high on their list of things to do."

Alexi nodded solemnly. "No, I guess not."

They'd arrived at the elevators. There was still no one around them, but Jude lowered his voice anyway as he asked her, "How well do you know Jensen Hardy?"

"Ah, so we're watching Jensen today."

"How well do you know him?" he repeated patiently.

"Not that well. He's always nice. I like him but I don't think I could spend a lot of time with him because he's always cheerful."

"How terrible!" Jude said.

She laughed. "No, just exhausting. But I have to admit he's excellent at his job. No matter where the storm goes, Jensen makes sure he keeps everyone on board occupied. You don't have any special information on the storm, do you? Like a bureau insider tip?"

"No. Apparently no one, including the experts in various government agencies, has any real idea where it's going right now," Jude told her. "I do know the captain's holding on the outskirts, waiting for instructions, I a.s.sume, from Celtic American headquarters."

The pool wasn't on the Sun Deck, where it might have been on another ship. Jude actually knew where it was, but he let Alexi lead him. The pool was forward on the Promenade Deck in a special section of the ship entered through a double set of doors. This grand, old-fashioned part of the Destiny also offered dressing rooms and a sweeping staircase with carved banners that went up to a second deck of lounge chairs and a bar.

When they got there the ship's pitching had the water in the pool moving as if it was a very modern wave pool.