David Beach was an ox of a man, almost six and a half feet tall. Jude, at six-three, felt dwarfed by him. Beach also had stellar credentials, having served with the NYPD and Homeland Security before retiring at fifty to enter the civilian sector and take the job with the Celtic American line.
They knew all this because they’d accessed Jackson Crow’s home office to receive dossiers on every member of the crew.
Now they sat in the captain’s office to speak and while the space was large enough, it felt small. David Beach, Jude thought, could make just about anyone—short of Shaquille O’Neal, no pun intended—seem small and any space seem close and crowded.
Beach remained quiet after Jackson had spoken, and Captain Thorne frowned as he weighed his response.
“You believe you’ve chased a serial killer onto my ship?” he finally asked.
“Yes, Captain,” Jude replied. “We believe that the killer’s been using cruise ports and ships to track and murder his victims—and that we followed him onto the Destiny.”
The captain shook his head. “I don’t see how you could know this. I heard about that terrible business at the church in the Treme district and I don’t think anyone, anywhere in the world, has missed the news about the fear this man is creating, but...this was the killer’s first strike in New Orleans.”
“You don’t really even know if the man you followed onto the ship was responsible for the heinous act at the church,” David Beach added.
“Captain, we followed a man who behaved suspiciously at the crime scene. I’m aware of both your backgrounds,” Crow told them. “Mr. Beach, you’ve certainly been through seminars on the psychology of killers like this. The man’s behavior was the kind we consider exceptionally suspicious.”
“So they sent the troops out on a ship because of a man behaving suspiciously at a crime scene?” Captain Thorne asked. “Seems to me it would’ve made more sense to prowl the streets of New Orleans, tracing hard evidence.”
“Trust me, Captain, there are many law enforcement officers doing just that,” Jude said.
“Of course. I assume every law enforcement officer in the States is on the lookout, but—”
“We don’t intend to be intrusive,” Crow assured him.
“Frankly, whether you are or not, I have no real power over this.” Thorne glanced over at Beach. “Word’s come down from on high at Celtic American. We are to give you every assistance you require. However, I’d hate to put an entire ship full of people into a state of panic because you chased a man for behaving in a manner you describe as suspicious and you think he’s on this ship.”
“We don’t want a panic, either,” Jude said. “What we do want is to advise you that this man may be on board and may be dangerous. I would imagine,” he went on, and he could hear his voice harden as he spoke, “that you’d be concerned. You have several thousand passengers, not to mention a large crew, any of whom could be in danger. Granted, most of the so-called Archangel’s victims have been women but he’s killed at least one man. We’d like you to make a speech warning everyone to take extreme care, to lock their cabins and watch out for their personal safety.”
“Every cruise company in the world has guidelines warning passengers that while all precautions are taken, crime can still happen,” Beach told them.
“I don’t usually make announcements like that,” Thorne murmured.
“You can make it friendly,” Crow said. “As well as serious.”
“And of course, you need to alert your crew, and, most important, Mr. Beach, every one of your security officers,” Jude put in. “I doubt this man is still dressed the same. He’d have his own clothing or he’d have stolen a change of clothing by now.”
“Can you give me a description of his face?” Beach asked.
“Tragedy,” Jude said, recalling the strange prosthetic makeup he’d seen on the man.
“What?”
“He was wearing theatrical makeup when we saw him,” Jude explained. “He’s probably gotten rid of it, cleaned up, by now.”
Thorne raised his salt-and-pepper brows beneath his captain’s hat and looked over at Beach. Then he stared hard from Jackson Crow to Jude.
“Gentlemen—”
“Assistant Director Jackson Crow and Special Agent Jude McCoy,” Crow interrupted. He smiled, appearing polite, ready to be friendly and helpful, while ensuring that their purpose was noted.
Captain Thorne nodded. “But you need to realize that you’re asking me to put a security crew and every one of almost a thousand crew members on guard and warn over two thousand passengers—many on the vacation of a lifetime—that there may be a killer on board. ‘Enjoy the crystal beauty of the Caribbean! Ah, but be aware. The FBI believes there might be a homicidal maniac on board. Apparently, he was wearing makeup and God knows what he’s wearing now. Watch out for him, though!’” He rolled his eyes. “Sorry, Agents. But on this ship I’m like the president, the grand high master, the great pooh-bah, what have you. I can’t scare them all half to death.”
“We haven’t asked you to do that,” Jude said flatly. “Captain, don’t you want this man caught? Don’t you want your passengers safe?”
“Of course!” Thorne replied indignantly.
“Just remind them of safety-precaution tips—and even mention the horror in NOLA without suggesting the killer could be on board,” Crow said. “Make sure your officers are advised. Make sure they patrol the bars and clubs and watch out for men who seem to be stalking women.”
Beach muttered something under his breath. They all looked at him.
He sighed. “I’d say at least some of the people on this ship are out for more than fun and sun—a chance to get lucky outside their real world. How can I watch everyone in the middle of that kind of behavior?”
“You’ve been a cop. You know how to observe people, how to judge their moods, how to tell when something’s out of whack,” Jude said.
Beach nodded grimly. Jude was glad that he’d brought up the man’s past; it seemed to remind him of his own sense of self-respect and ability.
“We also have almost limitless resources working on this. Within a few hours, we’ll have cleared the majority of people on this vessel. Investigators in our main office will soon learn who has and who hasn’t been in the areas of the country where the murders were committed. That will eliminate the majority of people on the ship,” Jude said.
Captain Thorne was obviously relieved. “The killer had to have traveled, right? Miami? Fort Lauderdale?”
“And Mobile,” Crow said.
“Assuming it’s one killer, which we believe it to be,” Jude added.
The captain rose. “I must be getting back to my duties,” he said. “You’ll keep me apprised of what you discover? When do you expect your reports?”
“Soon,” Crow assured him. “And thanks for the use of your computers.” They’d been given a cabin near the security offices, complete with high-end equipment and systems.
“I’d like the reports as soon as possible. Naturally, I expect you to be discreet. I don’t want people in an uproar because they’re afraid a killer could be on board—unless we find it to be true.” He paused. “You believe this man might be a frequent traveler or a ship employee? No murder has taken place on the Destiny. Well,