In the Black (6 page)

At least the captain had the common sense to lock the ship down and keep the entire group quarantined. It’d raise hell with the foreman and the Guild, but she’d done what she had to do to secure the scene.

He allowed himself a smug smile. She was a smart cookie. The few Mercy captains he’d met so far didn’t have much to them other than the ability to sit and stare at a screen for hours at a time. Little personality and definitely no initiative other than to burn through their five-year contract.

He hit a button on the keyboard. Another personnel sheet flashed up on the monitor.

The current captain of the
Bonnie Belle
, Samantha Keller.

Daniel leaned back in the chair and felt the straps across his chest grow tight as they automatically retracted.

The redhead glared at him from the official Guild photograph, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

This wasn’t a promo shot—it reminded him more of a mug shot.

He tapped the screen. She’d taken command of the
Belle
six months ago, her first trip out on a five-year contract. Usual terms, usual agreement.

Except for her history.

Sam Keller was one of the most over-qualified Mercy captains out there right now. A combat veteran who’d spent most of her life in the military, she’d asked for and received an honorable discharge at the rank of Chief Master Sergeant a year ago. But instead of retiring to a sweet spot, working security on some colony or going back to Mars or Earth, she was running a Mercy ship and tied into a five-year contract of ferrying courtesans around to various mining colonies. And there was no explanation why.

It took a special type of woman to run a Mercy ship, someone who didn’t mind seeing the best and the worst of humanity’s basic urges. Someone who knew how to hold the customers and the courtesans in check until it was time not to.

Someone who didn’t mind denying herself.

Daniel studied the data. A huge glaring hole existed in the information, something that you didn’t see too often at his security level. She’d been posted to the Hub with her combat team and then her record was blank for most of a year, until her discharge and signing on with the Guild.

Daniel picked up the water bottle at his side and took a sip.

She’d been at the Hub.

He’d heard some rumors about what had gone on at one of the biggest military bases outside of the inner planets—the terrorist cells attacking the base being larger than first reported and the rebels inflicting more damage on the arriving reserve troops than initial reports had let on. The news had been hot for only a few days before going off the front page to be nothing more than a footnote.

Sam’s expression said more than that. She’d cut and run after the Hub, gone as far as she could from the military. Sam Keller had something in her past that she didn’t want anyone to know about, including Marshal Daniel LeClair.

Which made her all the more mysterious and enticing. He reached out and traced her cheekbone on the screen, his long slender finger pressing on the glass. Damned fine-looking woman, to boot.

His eyes dropped to check her marital status. Single. No surprise there. You didn’t get a lot of married couples running Mercy ships. Wonder if she paid someone on the
Belle
for an hour of passion, something to relieve the tension created by working on a ship that sold sex.

Wonder if she was searching for something a little different.

Etts gave a chirp.

“Yeah, yeah. Kick it into high gear—we need to get to Branson Prime yesterday.”

He let out a sigh. When he started fantasizing about Mercy ship captains, he knew he’d been out for far too long.

* * *

It’d taken a few minutes for Sean to arrive, gripping the handles of his worn green canvas medic’s bag with white knuckles. He’d paused at seeing Sam’s expression, his blue eyes darting to the closed door behind her.

A shake of her head and he turned his attention to April, cooing to her as he’d offered a pill and a tube of water to calm down the near-hysterical woman. She’d reacted quickly to the medication and now sat near the floor, still floating but slumped over in a half-conscious state.

Sam envied her.

“It’s bad,” Sean said.

“Yes.” She didn’t see any reason to fill him in on the details. “Thanks for the help.”

“It’s my job.” He gestured at the courtesan nearby. “I’ll get April back to her suite and get her settled. She should sleep for an hour or so once she goes down. I’ll go back to my cabin. Call me if you need me for anything else.” He hesitated. “Are you okay? Do you want something to take the edge off?” His gaze went again to the closed door. “This isn’t going away anytime soon.”

A
hell of a strong drink
, Sam’s inner voice screamed. She might have been wired before but this took it to whole new levels of stress. There was going to be hell to pay and not only for the killer, if and when they found him. Or her.

She was responsible for this.

She was the captain.

She drew in a deep breath, counting to three.

Just like the therapist said.

Letting it out on another three beats.

One, two, three.

“I’m fine. Thanks.” She paused, trying to figure out how to phrase her question delicately. “Do you have company?” She winced inside, wondering how to swear his customer to secrecy. The gossip train would be running soon enough but she didn’t need to add more fuel to the fire by having Sean’s client know something was afoot. Having him run in and out with his medical kit wasn’t going to help keep this quiet.

Sean smiled. “I’m between customers. Seems a grumpy old man isn’t as appealing as he used to be.”

“Ah.” She didn’t know what to say to that. “Okay. I might have to call you again depending on how things go. Thanks for the help.”

He nodded and touched his index finger to his temple. “At your service.”

She wasn’t sure what else she could do but wait and stand guard.

Sean pulled April upright, whispering to her in that low Irish accent that had probably broken a thousand hearts.

April sniffled once and rubbed her eyes with both hands in an attempt to regain her composure before turning to Sam. “I’m sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Sam replied.

“I should have—” The courtesan fumbled for words. “She—”

Sam held up her hand. “Go lie down. When the marshal arrives he’ll want a statement, and you should rest.”

She left out the part where April would be the most likely suspect. The first person to find the murdered woman usually was the one who did it.

Reading all those mystery novels had come in handy after all.

Good thing the
Belle
didn’t have any butlers on board.

Sean clucked his tongue, his hand tight around the slender woman’s waist. “You’re in no shape to be thinking about this right now. Come along, let’s get you into your home.” He nudged April toward her quarters. “Get settled and have a cuppa. That’ll set you right.” He caught Sam’s eye and nodded toward the locked door.

“Belle.” Sam heard the bolts retract.

Sean opened the hatch for April and helped her through. He gave Sam another weak salute, then pulled the door shut behind them.

“Let me know when he goes back to his own suite, Belle. Lock him in after he gets back and relock April’s door, same as the others.” A deep throbbing started behind her left eye. Right now they were all suspects, all of the crew and a good portion of the base personnel.

This wasn’t going to end well.

“Chief Medical Officer Danforth is at the entrance. I’ll send him through.” Belle’s voice was soft but firm. “He is alone.”

“Thank you.” Sam’s attention went to the end of the hallway. “Keep everything secure. No one moves, no one leaves. Anyone wants to dispute that, tell them to take a number and wait for me to call them back.”

“Affirmative.”

A few minutes later the doctor came into the hallway, pulling himself along by the straps. He wore the same drab coverall as the other miners except this one had patches on the shoulders bearing the white-and-red cross of the medical department. A slew of stripes on his right sleeve showed he’d spent years working for the company, a lifer. He carried the typical doctor’s black leather bag, a custom brought out from Earth by most of the medics she’d come across.

The snick of the bolts slamming home echoed behind him.

The older man nodded to Sam. “Fred Danforth.” He extended his hand. “Chief Medical Officer for Branson Prime.”

“Sam Keller. Captain of the
Bonnie Belle
.” She shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you. Sorry I had to drag you out here right away. Hope you weren’t busy.”

He shrugged. “A few cuts and scrapes, the occasional STD. Excitement central. And I’m fine with that.” He peered at the closed door behind her. “But I’m guessing you’ve got more for me to look at than a cold sore or a rope burn.”

“I need official verification of a death.” The words tasted sour. “I’m not allowed to do that and neither is my medic. The Guild demands a neutral qualified observer if one’s available, and that’d be you. UNS marshal is on the way.”

The surprise on his face showed for a second before the professional side took over, clamping down his shock. “Okay.” He looked at the hatch, his knuckles white where they gripped the handles of the medical satchel. “Let’s do this.”

She moved to one side. “Belle, unlock the door. After we enter lock it again, please.”

The last thing she needed was someone wandering into the crime scene unannounced and unwanted. In theory everyone should be locked down, but still...

Danforth pulled himself to the entrance and went inside. Sam followed.

It took less than five minutes for him to officially declare Halley Comet deceased.

Sam floated nearby, watching. She couldn’t afford to have the crime scene contaminated before the authorities arrived but she needed the official stamp of the medic in case the courtesan sprang to life and started talking through her slit throat. It was a compromise she had to make.

Danforth stripped off his latex gloves and turned away, swimming back into the arrival area where Sam floated. “I tried not to touch anything. My report will reflect that along with my limited examination of Miss Comet.” He scowled as he tucked the gloves into a pocket. “Damned messy.” He shook his head. “Damned waste. Damned horrible situation.”

“Thanks. I’ll take it from here.”

“Sure as hell you will.” Danforth sighed. “I’ve been to some bad scenes but I never thought I’d see this. I’ll set up the autopsy room for her arrival—it’s full of record boxes right now. Haven’t had a dead body in...” He hummed under his breath. “Forever. Call me when the marshal releases the body and we’ll pick it up and start processing.”

Danforth put up his hand before she could speak. “Don’t worry, I know the routine. Automatic blood testing for booze and drugs, the usual. Been a while since I had to do the dance but I remember how it goes.” The medical officer swam to the hallway door. “Hell of a change from stitching up bar fights.”

“I don’t have to tell you to keep this quiet—”

Danforth snorted. “Young lady, I know my job. And the last thing I want to do is increase my workload by getting the boys all riled up and searching for someone to take their anger out on.” He tapped his ear. “Eyes only for you, the security chief and the marshal on the report. I won’t use an assistant so there’ll be less gossip floating around. Still going to be some, though. People going to talk, people love to talk.”

“But it’ll just be that.” Sam nodded back toward the suite. “Her parents deserve better than to have her autopsy photos displayed on somebody’s screen for chuckles and giggles. And you know there’s people who will do that.”

“Unfortunately I do.” Danforth put one hand on the hatch leading out of the hallway. “I’ll treat her as if she were my own daughter, take care of her right. Least I can do for her and her family.”

“Thank you.” Sam glanced upward. “Belle, let him out.”

The door unlocked and Danforth carefully crossed the threshold into the landing bay, placing his feet on the metal panels as full gravity took hold. The door swung shut as soon as he cleared it.

Sam glanced up and down the corridor, suddenly feeling self-conscious. The silence was uncomfortable, more suited to a library.

Or a morgue.

“Security Chief Huckness is waiting outside. I told him you were occupied. Now that Dr. Danforth is exiting, I’ll let him in.” Belle’s voice was soft but firm. “As you requested, he is alone.”

“Good.” Sam ran her palms over her thighs, wiping the sweat on the thin shorts. The cool air coming out of the vents didn’t seem to be making any difference. “Thank you.” She waited by the dead courtesan’s door and offered up a fast prayer for Halley. The woman might have been frustrating as hell but very few people deserved to die.

She went through another series of breathing exercises to settle herself and focus on the task at hand. Last thing she needed was to look like a weakling in front of the security chief.

Her ship, her responsibility.

She didn’t have to wait long for the chief. The hallway door swung open and shut within seconds. Belle was doing her best to make sure no one saw inside—not that there was anything to see other than Sam floating in front of a door.

Huckness swam toward her at a fast clip, the older man’s movements giving him away as a military veteran. One of the first things you learnt in boot camp was how to get the most out of every action in zero-g, and Huckness knew all the tricks. He’d kept his mag-boots turned off, choosing to get more mileage with measured movements in zero-g rather than exhaust himself walking down the center of the corridor making contact with the metal plates.

He wasn’t wearing the same grey jumpsuit everyone else was, and his black T-shirt and matching military-style pants marked him as someone not to mess with. There was no rank or insignia on his uniform but the way he carried himself said it all.

The chief stopped next to her, hovering in the air.

“Heard you got a problem bad enough to lock the base down.” His eyes flickered to the door before going back to lock with hers. “How bad we talking?”