“It’s for passenger safety,” the second of the two said. Much shorter than his buddy, he had freckled skin and dark brown eyes behind round glasses. He pushed them higher up the bridge of his nose and shifted anxiously. “It should only be for a couple of hours.”
“Look, you’ve done your job,” Sam responded. “You’ve warned me. I’ve decided to ignore you. If something happens, you can tell your boss and anyone who asks that you did your due diligence.”
“But—” the freckle-faced kid began.
“Go ahead and let your boss know.” Sam walked past them, ignoring the sputtered protests and unhappy shouts. They’d call Security, and he’d deal with that, too. He’d been hardwired from day one to be proactive. His parents said he’d always been a daredevil. His siblings said he was too independent for his own good. They were right, but he used both qualities to his advantage in his work.
In his personal life? Sometimes they got him into trouble. Sometimes they kept him from remembering important dates like birthdays and anniversaries. And 3-D sonogram pictures. Memories of his failures were never on short supply lately, hadn’t been for the past two years. His work kept him from falling too deeply into a pattern of regret. With a job to do, there was simply no time to dwell on the past.
Two uniformed security officers and a firefighter met him as he turned onto the second flight of steps, their expressions hard. Unlike the kids who’d tried to stop him before, these three looked as if they meant business.
“Sir, you’re going to have to return to your cabin,” a bulky guy with a menacing demeanor said. His name badge said “Larsen,” but he didn’t bother to introduce himself. He stared hard at Sam, arms crossed, feet in a wide stance that was meant to intimidate. “We’re investigating a fire that occurred in the lobby below,” the man continued. “All passengers need to stay clear of the area for their own safety.”
Sam pulled out his wallet. He didn’t have his credentials, but he handed over a business card. “Sam West, Secret Service,” he said. “I was there when the incident occurred. I think we all know it wasn’t a simple fire.”
“We don’t know anything,” the second officer said. A few years younger than Larsen and at least three inches taller, the officer looked fit and strong in his tailored uniform, his blond hair in a high fade cut. Sam pegged him as former military, and that might play to Sam’s advantage. “I don’t guess we need the Secret Service involved,” the officer said. “We’re trying to avoid contaminating evidence.”
“Before the Secret Service, I worked for the Miami PD,” Sam added. “I’m not trying to get in your way. I just figured the more hands, the better.”
“Right.” Larsen’s eyes gleamed black with anger. No one liked other departments nosing in on their investigations. “I don’t think we need any more hands. We’ve got things—”
“Actually—” the younger man cut him off “—it might not be a bad thing to have an extra set of eyes. I’m Nick Callahan. A good friend of mine works for the Miami PD—his name’s Brent Mitchem.” He held a hand out toward Sam, and they shook.
“Brent Mitchem, solid officer,” Sam said. “Got to know him pretty well on the night shift a few years back.”
“How ’bout that?” Nick said with a brief smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. Then it was gone, and he was all business again. “Been working cruises for nine years, and I’ve never seen anything like this before. Come on. I’ll bring you down. Don’t touch anything, though. We need to preserve the scene.”
“Now, hold on a minute,” Larsen said, face ruddy with agitation. “Policy—”
“Policy,” Nick cut in, “should welcome an extra pair of eyes. We’ve got six thousand people on board with no way to evacuate.” He looked pointedly at his partner. “Why don’t you check on his creds? As long as they check out, and I’m sure they will, there’s no reason to keep him in the dark about what’s going on.”
“You’re the boss,” Larsen muttered as he brushed past them, and Nick motioned toward the man next to him.
“This is Colton Hughes. He heads up our firefighting team.”
“Nice to meet you.” Sam offered a hand, appreciated the firefighter’s firm grip and steady gaze.
“Appreciate your coming down,” Hughes said as Nick finally began to lead the way down two more flights of stairs to the atrium.
Sam was anxious to get to the scene, observe what he could and return to the room to check on Grandma and Kathryn. He didn’t want to leave them alone for long, especially Kat.
Back home, he’d have the discipline to keep his distance from a woman like Kat, the kind of woman whose smile alone could stir up dreams he hadn’t entertained for two years. But here on the ship Sam felt he had a duty to stay close. At least that was what he tried to tell himself, even as Kathryn’s liquid amber eyes flashed in his mind. He’d seen sadness there behind her easy sense of humor, and an inner strength that drew him in.
Sam denied the thought almost as soon as it rose, focusing instead on the atrium ahead as he and the other two men exited the stairwell on deck eight.
The smoke had cleared, leaving behind a gray film over every surface and an acrid scent Sam couldn’t quite place. Shards of crystal lay heaped with splintered wood and twisted piano strings. Yellow tape cordoned off most of the atrium. Sam’s gaze traveled straight up from the mess to the scorched opening in the ceiling.
“That’s a lot of damage,” he said. “Will we dock at the nearest port?”
“The closest port is where we’re headed.”
Sam had expected as much, but had hoped to hear otherwise. A week ago, they’d departed from São Paulo, Brazil, making two other stops in the country before embarking on the next leg of their trip—a seven-night journey to the Canary Islands.
Impeccable timing, for sure, with three days left at sea before reaching their destination. The realization only fed his suspicion that it wasn’t an accident that had caused the chandelier to fall.
“Any leads on what happened?”
Sam had expected to see a crew of officers combing through the debris for evidence, but he counted only three officers in the area other than Nick, and they stood outside the borders of the yellow tape.
Nick shook his head. “We don’t have the means to perform a thorough investigation on a cruise ship. Our job is to preserve the scene until we dock.”
Sam didn’t like the sounds of that. With three days until they reached land, they needed to discover the origin of the explosion in the atrium before something worse happened.
“What about security footage?”
Nick pointed to a spot two decks above, parallel to where the chandelier had hung. “I’ve got men scrolling through footage from that camera specifically. Hopefully, we’ll be able to get a closer view of how it all started.”
“What are your initial thoughts on the cause?” Sam asked.
Nick was quiet for a moment, not taking his eyes off the wreckage. Finally, he gestured toward Colton. “Colton suggested it could have started with a bulb exploding. That could account for the popping sound many people heard.”
“Is that a common malfunction?”
Colton shook his head. “Rare. And not likely to cause such a big fire.”
“Could it have caused the chandelier to come down?” Sam pressed, because the theory didn’t sit right with him.