Jude shut down his walkie-talkie.

He wasn't sure how to separate Roger and Lorna Antrim, since he needed to speak with Lorna alone. He'd try their cabin first, see what kind of arrangement he could make.

Cabin? Suite!

When he knocked on the door, Roger answered. "Mr. McCoy."

"It's Jude, please."

"Jude. Come on in. Have you seen a salon like this? Oh, but you must have, being with Celtic American."

"Actually, I've never seen this particular salon," Jude said politely.

It was one h.e.l.l of a salon.

Roger, dapper in a velvet-and-silk dressing gown, his gray hair still damp from the shower, made a sweeping gesture and gave him a tour of the lower level. "Piano here-hey, it would be fun to get Alexi Cromwell up here for a private party sometime, huh? Anyway, mini-kitchen there, meeting room in there, parlor area, games table-and all that balcony s.p.a.ce over there is mine. Two bedrooms upstairs."

Jude could hardly imagine what accommodations like this would cost on a ship.

"Very nice," Jude murmured. "We're delighted that you're pleased with it."

"There aren't many ships as grand as this," Roger said. "With such old-world elegance. The Destiny is a special ship, indeed. We've always loved sailing on her. Well, except for this trip, but that's not the ship's fault, eh? No one can predict nature. Other than Lorna being so sick, I rather like the fact that nature is still stronger than any of us-any politician, any government, even our most advanced technology."

"That's nature, all right," Jude said. "How is Lorna? Is she in bed?"

"She was awake when I was in the shower. Let me go see if she's up. She'll be happy that you've stopped by."

Roger ran up the stairs to the bedrooms on the upper level.

A minute later he came back downstairs, frowning.

"She's not up there, but I never saw her go out."

"Maybe she was feeling poorly and went back to the infirmary. Listen, I'll head out and find her. I'll keep in touch."

"I should be looking for her, too," Roger said worriedly.

"Why don't you stay here? I'll inform security and we'll search for her. You wait here-be here if she comes back."

Roger didn't seem too pleased with that idea, but he agreed. "I'll get some clothes on. I can at least keep watch out in the hallway."

Jude nodded and pulled out the walkie-talkie to reach Jackson again. Jackson told him he'd alert Beach and his staff.

Jude went to the infirmary first, but she wasn't there and hadn't been in that morning.

When he left, there was a nurse standing outside. For a moment her appearance didn't register with Jude; he was so focused on finding Lorna.

His heart was pounding. He didn't like this one bit. A security man gone, disappeared.

And now...

Lorna Antrim was missing.

As the nurse approached him, his mind suddenly clicked into gear.

Dead. Dead nurse. Barbara Leon, from the historic infirmary that was no longer used in its old capacity but maintained as a museum.

"Agent!" Nurse Leon called to him.

"Miss Leon."

"You're looking for Mrs. Antrim?"

He didn't understand how a ghost from a distant past could know that, but he didn't ask.

"Yes."

"Schooner Bar, just down the way," she said, bustling forward to show him.

There weren't many people out, although as of now, the shops, bars and the casino were still open.

Once Barbara Leon had led him to the Schooner, she simply faded away.

But she'd been right.

Lorna was seated at the bar, sipping a blue-colored drink.

Jude quickly called Jackson on his walkie-talkie to tell him she'd been found; Jackson said he'd get one of the security men to tell Roger.

"Hi," Jude said, taking the chair beside hers. "If you're still feeling seasick, that might not be the best thing for you at the moment." He pointed to her gla.s.s.

She smiled at him. "Should be straight scotch, huh?"

"You're feeling better?"

"I'm trying to feel like a man," she said.

"A man?"

"I'm not all that seasick, I've discovered. I'm...old-age sick, heartsick and maybe even angry sick. So, I want to see what it's like just to take off and drink-oh, and find a good-looking, unattached man about my age with whom I'd like to flirt."

"Ah." Jude couldn't quite figure out what to say to that.

She studied him, an attractive woman, he thought, at any age. She had a great smile. "Mr. McCoy, a storm is raging. Who knows? We may not even make it back to port. Then again, this is my third drink. I suppose that's why I'm speaking frankly to you. Besides," she said, still studying him intently. "You seem like a tough man. I would've said law enforcement if I didn't know you worked for the cruise line. But under that tough exterior, you're d.a.m.ned decent. So, what the h.e.l.l."

She wasn't making much sense, and yet he understood what she meant.

"You think your husband is cheating on you?"

"What I know is that he disappears a lot," she said. "The day of the explosion, I was supposed to meet him at a bar in Cozumel-and I find him with a lovely woman. A woman from the ship. They were just talking...but how do I know what's really going on?" She was quiet for a minute. "He went wandering while I was out shopping. We agreed to meet at the bar, so he knew I was coming. And he introduced me to her, of course. We all sat and chatted and...then there was the explosion. We weren't at the restaurant, but we could see the chaos. Roger told us both to get safely back to the ship. He said he was going to see if he could help. Then he was gone. And when I finally found him again, it was on the ship. At a bar. With-with that same woman. Flora Winters."

"It may not mean he's cheating on you," Jude said.

It may mean that he's a killer, that he set the explosion.

But if so...why?

It bothered him not to have spoken to Capitan Suarez in nearly two days.

He didn't know if they'd found anything in any of their churches!

"I realize that," Lorna said, raising her gla.s.s to him. "May I buy you a drink, Mr. McCoy?"

"I'd love a gla.s.s of water."

"Of course. You're not the kind who'd drink on the job, are you?" she asked. "You want your attention completely focused."

"I also happen to like water," he told her, smiling.

So, her husband could have rigged the explosion at the restaurant. He hadn't been with her; he might've been anywhere.

But he could just be a man with a wandering eye.

Or a nice guy being kind to someone else.

"Crazy, huh? Me drinking like this-and confiding in a stranger!" Lorna said.

"It's all right. Sometimes it's a good thing to talk to someone who isn't involved."

"I don't even know what he's doing right now," she went on. "The cells aren't working, and the computers are down. And I left the suite. Think he headed straight to her cabin, Mr. McCoy?"

"No, I just got in touch with my coworker, Jackson, a few minutes ago to ask him to call off security. Before that I was at your suite. Your husband's worried."

She lowered her head. "I'm grateful you were all worried about me," she said. "Embarra.s.sed, too. But...I'm actually glad that I gave Roger a few moments of worry. Now he'll know how I feel," she said softly.

"Want me to see you back to your cabin?"

"Sure," she said. She set down her drink and stared at it. "I don't even like these sugary things."

"Shall we go?"

He hoped he wasn't bringing her back to a serial killer-to the Archangel himself.

But even if Roger was the Archangel, statistically Lorna was safe.

Most serial killers didn't strike at or near home. They used their standing as family men and good neighbors to protect their secret ident.i.ties.

Besides, at this point Jude had no reason-and certainly no actual evidence-to think that Roger was the Archangel.

He offered Lorna an arm; she took it with a smile. "Well, I am feeling a bit wobbly. And the ship is...well, quite wobbly, too."

He escorted her from the bar, to the elevator and up to her suite.

Roger was waiting anxiously in the hallway. "Lorna!" he said, rushing forward to embrace her. "Oh, my G.o.d, I was so worried!"

"Were you really?" she asked, pulling back to study his face.

"I was scared silly. You just-you just disappeared!"

"I went out for a drink."

"But you always tell me when you're going somewhere!"

"But you don't always tell me."

He drew her into his arms. "I'm sorry," he said in a low voice.

Jude slipped quietly away.

It might have been an act.

If so, it was a d.a.m.ned good one.

One way to find out; he would pay a visit to Roger's friend, Mrs. Flora Winters, in cabin number 615.

12.

Bingo was over.

There was, as yet, no sign of Jude.

But as the winners came forward and giddily collected their certificates, she and Clara sat at one of the rear tables in the now-empty back room, exhausted.

This was her chance to talk to Jensen Hardy.

After he'd thanked her and Clara, she found her opening. "It's okay. I don't know if we'll be working tonight."

"Right now you're on the entertainment schedule, but that may change. Probably will change. We're still just staying put, waiting on forecasts. But I happen to believe the captain suspects more than he's telling us. Tropical storm Dinah was upgraded to Hurricane Dinah over Cozumel. They thought she'd advance to the Gulf, so they ordered us to sail 'cautiously' south. Now Dinah's changing her mind."

"What makes you think that?"

"We haven't been ordered to any port," he said. "If they'd had a good handle on the storm, they'd have gotten us out of harm's way by now. Maybe they should've taken a chance! Everybody figured Dinah had to move. Instead, she pummeled Cozumel!"