Caged (30 page)

‘What did you know?’ Sam challenged.

‘That something was fishy.’ She looked at Saul. ‘Are you going to tell me?’

‘Absolutely not,’ Saul said. ‘Do you hate me?’

‘Not in this or any future lifetime,’ Grace told him.

‘I knew it was a shameful ruse,’ Saul said, ‘but it was good to talk to you.’

‘I’m glad.’

‘So, are you ready?’ Sam asked.

‘For what?’

‘That would be telling,’ Sam said.

‘And judging by the naughtiness in those eyes of yours,’ Grace said, ‘you’re not about to do that, apparently.’

‘Are my eyes naughty?’ He felt happy already.

‘Wicked,’ she said.

‘All will become clear,’ Sam said.

They both gave Saul a hug and went down on to the street.

Grace saw the Saab. ‘I brought my car.’

‘It won’t come to any harm here,’ Sam said. ‘This is a nice neighbourhood.’

‘My goodness,’ Grace said. ‘I’m feeling very confused. I haven’t lost track of days, have I? It isn’t my birthday yet, is it?’

‘Not yet,’ Sam said, and opened the passenger door.

‘No clues?’

‘Not one.’

‘Ah well.’ Grace shrugged and got into the car, her flowers in her lap. ‘I guess I’d better just stop asking questions then and enjoy myself.’

‘I guess you had.’

Everyone was at Port Everglades in Fort Lauderdale when they arrived, all standing around outside First International’s utilitarian, rather than beautiful, terminal building; but there was no overlooking the vast, snowy white
Stardust
rising up behind the terminal, and seeing David and Joshua and Mildred and Cathy – and Saul arriving just behind them in his own car – Grace was stunned and deeply moved.

‘But why?’ she asked Sam, bewildered. ‘I’m not forty till next year.’

‘Because you deserve it,’ he told her. ‘Because I want to whisk you away right now.’

‘Happy pre-birthday,’ Cathy said, and gave her a bunch of pink roses.

‘You’d better hold these for her, Samuel,’ Mildred said, handing him her tied bouquet of delicate bluish-purple flowers, before giving Grace a hug. ‘Enjoy every minute, both of you.’

‘And you’d both better have a good hug from this little man.’ David put Joshua into his father’s arms.

‘Dada,’ the small boy said, staring wide-eyed at the bustle and flow of vehicles and people and baggage.

Sam held his son close, kissed his head, inhaled the smell of his hair, and turned to Grace, saw that she was close to tears.

‘He’ll be fine,’ he told her softly. ‘He couldn’t be in better hands, Gracie.’

‘I know that,’ she said, ‘and dear God, I love you all.’ She stroked Joshua’s soft cheek, swallowed hard, worried about upsetting him. ‘And I’m the luckiest woman in the world to have you to take care of him, but we’re going out on the ocean, and what if something happens, what if Joshua needs us and we can’t get back quickly enough?’

‘Nothing’s going to happen,’ David told her.

‘You can’t know that,’ Grace said.

‘You’re scaring me now,’ Sam said.

‘It’s the twenty-first century,’ Cathy pointed out. ‘Communications are pretty good these days – haven’t you heard of satellites?’

‘And you’re not even going far,’ Saul added.

‘And if you’re anxious about these people not being careful enough,’ Mildred said, ‘remember they’ll have me to reckon with.’

Grace laughed, and commonsense returned, and then suddenly it was farewells and thanks all around, especially to Cathy for her packing.

‘I’ve probably left out something really important,’ Cathy said.

‘I don’t care if you have,’ Grace told her. ‘I don’t care if I only have one dress and nothing else, because I have the best husband and children and family – ’ she smiled at Mildred, hoping she knew she was included – ‘and nothing else matters.’

‘You wanted a dress?’ Cathy said.

They went inside the terminal, still laughing, to begin check-in.

And Sam only realized much later, as they entered their lovely stateroom on the tenth deck, complete with its own balcony, that he had not so much as thought about the homicides, or Riley and Alvarez as a team, or even about Martinez, since he’d collected Grace from Saul’s apartment.

Not until now, at least.

And then he saw the beautiful king-size bed.

And forgot all over again.

NINETY-TWO

G
race’s thirty-ninth birthday dawned after two days of bliss, the first on calm open seas followed by a formal dinner – for which Cathy had packed a perfect black cocktail-style dress for her – which had been a delight, with two other couples at their table, both full of fun, one pair from North Carolina, the other from New York City. And yesterday, the
Stardust
had been in port at the Mexican island of Cozumel and most people had gone ashore on excursions, but when Sam had asked Grace which of those she’d like to choose, she’d remembered their friends, Jay and Annie Hoffman, saying that one of their favourite things on cruises was staying on board when so many passengers disembarked.

‘That sounds like heaven to me,’ Grace had said. ‘Or am I being antisocial?’

‘A little unadventurous, maybe,’ Sam had said. ‘But I’m all for it.’

So they’d left the exploring to the majority and made the most of peace and quiet, sunbathing on deck, playing a little table tennis, swimming and, it seemed to them, endlessly eating.

Cozumel was in the past now, and it was already the third day, the last full day of the cruise, and it was seven thirty and they were still in bed, snuggling close with breakfast on their balcony not due till eight, and anticipating a long, happy day.

‘When did we last get time like this?’ Sam asked her now, lazily.

Grace kissed his chest, traced with her lips one of the narrow scars that were a legacy of the Cal the Hater case, and there were more scars on this man, including a vicious reminder of John Broderick, Cathy’s biological father, and she had a reminder of her own on her left shoulder from that same terrible night . . .

Long time ago.

‘There is one thing I’d love to do,’ she said now, ‘if you don’t mind, and that’s phone home later on and make sure everything’s fine.’

‘You want to speak to our son on your birthday,’ Sam said amiably against her left breast. ‘Seems perfectly reasonable to me.’

‘Expensive, though.’

‘To hell with expense,’ Sam said.

They made the call after Grace had opened all the gifts and cards that Sam had smuggled on board, and David managed to reassure them both that Joshua was in great shape, not missing them at all, after which their son had come to the phone and chattered happily for a few moments. And then Sam had called Martinez, who was out of the hospital and home and sounding bushed but much better, and Jess was with him, taking good care of him, according to Martinez, and Sam decided to believe that, at least for now.

All was right with their world.

‘This is something almost worth starting a journal for,’ Grace told Sam as they strolled on deck after lunch in the Andromeda Café, where they’d sat at one of the vast windows, feeling lulled as they’d eaten crab salad and roast beef.

‘You don’t like journals,’ Sam said.

‘True,’ Grace agreed. ‘I just feel I’d like to really
capture
all this, but I guess it’ll all stay locked up in here.’ She tapped her head. ‘So we can take it out and look at it when we’re old and feeble.’

‘You’ll never be feeble,’ Sam told her.

‘I won’t mind too much,’ Grace said, ‘so long as we can be feeble together.’

A lot of love flowing back and forth between them, and it was, they supposed, always like that with them, except that back in the real world, they seldom had this kind of time or peace.

‘I never knew till now,’ Sam told Grace softly, holding her hand as they walked, ‘that ships make me horny.’

‘Me too,’ she said. ‘Who knew?’

And they turned about, without another word, and went back to their stateroom.

NINETY-THREE

E
verything changed at five minutes after eleven that night.

Peace of mind blown clean away.

Being the last night, discipline had come briefly back into their lives, with instructions to pack all but their overnight needs and have baggage ready for collection before midnight, and Sam and Grace had, like most passengers, taken care of business before dinner to free them for the evening.

Everyone seemed to be making the most of that freedom, as they’d seen while dining on prime rib and lobster in the Stardust Grill, filled to capacity, and even now, sitting at a corner table in the Aurora Bar sipping cognac, there were people milling around in fancy dress, someone throwing a private party someplace on the ship, and Sam had just told Grace that he was going to have to go on a diet when they got back – when his gaze fell on a character about twenty feet away, at the far end of the bar . . .

A man all done up in silver, from head to toe.

A ghost from the past.

‘Dear God.’ Sam felt shock, like icy claws, crawl up his spine. ‘Cooper.’

Jerome Cooper, Grace’s stepbrother, aka Cal the Hater. Multiple killer and the man who had almost destroyed their family less than a year ago.

Sam had never seen Cooper dressed up that way, all shimmering in silver, but Mildred certainly had, more than once, and had almost paid for the privilege with her life.

Grace turned in her seat, eyes torn wide, saw him too.

‘It can’t be him,’ she said. ‘It can’t, Sam.’

Because Jerome Cooper was dead.

Presumed
dead. His body never retrieved from the ocean.

The silver man was moving, was already out of the Aurora Bar, heading toward the centre of the ship.

‘I’m sorry.’ Sam got to his feet. ‘I need to be sure.’

He was gone before Grace could speak again, and intense fear clutched at her suddenly, and she was up, too, going after him. And she saw the silver figure way up ahead, moving quickly toward the Star Theater, Sam catching up to him – and Grace wanted to scream, but instead she kept on walking, not running but moving fast, her heart pounding in her chest because there was something
terrible
about to happen here, something that felt inexorable to her – and this was her birthday, this was one of the best days of her life . . .

Flashes of the way it might happen scalded her eyes, her mind.

Not might. Happening
now.

Sam had caught up with him, and it looked as if they were speaking, and then Sam took a backward step, and for in instant Grace thought it had
happened
, the worst thing imaginable, and now she did start to run . . .

‘It wasn’t him.’

Sam speaking.

To her. Right in front of her, alive and unharmed – and the silver man had gone, vanished, but Sam was smiling, and the worst had not happened.

‘I thought . . .’ Grace flew at him, held him, began to weep.

‘Oh, God, Gracie, I’m so sorry.’ Sam kissed the top of her head, stroking her hair. ‘What a mistake to make, and spoiling your special evening this way.’

‘It wasn’t him?’ She drew back, wiping away her tears. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Hundred per cent,’ Sam said. ‘I spoke to him. Not Cooper. Just a guy in fancy dress.’

‘Thank God,’ Grace said.

‘Amen to that,’ Sam said.

NINETY-FOUR

A
little after two a.m. on Monday, when Sam was sound asleep, Grace, still restlessly awake, felt a sudden need for air and exercise, and maybe it was a reaction to the loveliness of the day or to the brief, but shocking, fears that had assailed her a few hours ago, but whichever, she needed soothing, and a little walk, ocean air and starlight seemed just what the doctor might have ordered.

She left a note on the pillow in case Sam woke.

In the long narrow corridor outside their stateroom it was hushed, all baggage gone now – vanished as completely as their Jerome hallucination.

Grace shook off the thought, the
man
, and headed toward midships, taking the staircase down three flights, remembering that Deck Seven was one of those where the doors were kept open for late-night strollers.

There were still people around, most younger, still in party mood, some just emerging from the casino, a few romantic couples – one pair who looked to Grace like honeymooners – and a few solitary, like herself.

Outside on deck it was just the way she’d hoped, breezy and cool, but more exhilarating than chilling.

A few minutes of this, and she knew she’d be ready to go back to sleep.

She didn’t see anything.

But she
heard
him.

His voice, unmistakable, coming out of the dark.

‘Hello, Grace.’

It was true what they said about blood seeming to freeze in the veins.

‘Here I am again. Roxy’s boy, back from the deep.’

‘Jerome?’ She spun around, thought for an instant that she saw the shadow of a figure near one of the doorways, looming eerily against the white paintwork, and then it was gone again, back into the dark.

‘Can’t keep a good sailor down,’ the voice said. ‘Nice boat, though I preferred my
Baby
.’ There was a pause. ‘How is your little one, by the by?’

Grace turned and ran.

Running for her life.

Sam was awake when she got back inside the stateroom, sitting with his feet up on the small couch as she came in, springing up as he saw her face.

‘What the hell happened?’

She barely made it into the bathroom, on to her knees, to throw up.