The Rachel Scott Adventures, Volume 1 (12 page)

A
mber didn’t know how long she’d been sedated. The window in her room was heavily curtained and she couldn’t tell if it was day or night. The last thing she remembered was the nurse who gave her some water before pumping something into her IV.

It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the dark. Then she struggled to sit up and get a better look around the room. To her shock, she realized she wasn’t alone. A dark figure sat in the chair across from her bed.

“I see you’re up.” A man’s voice.

Amber was too scared to speak at first.

“Who are you?” she said, finally finding her voice. She was still hoarse.

She heard a click, a soft light came on, and she got her first look at her visitor.

An older gentleman—maybe her dad’s age—dressed in an expensive charcoal-gray suit, his dark hair slicked back, stared at her. At first Amber thought that he was a good-looking man, but his smile, like that of a Cheshire cat, gave her the shivers. He looked familiar somehow.

“Hello, Amber. My name is Enzo Morrotti. I own the
SeaStar
cruise ship.”

Suddenly, Amber realized where she’d seen him before. His picture was in her cabin. Amber processed this information through her fog-hazed brain. For some reason, the thought of having him in her room should be a comfort to her, but it wasn’t. Instead, a mix of anger and confusion raced through her body. She felt blazingly hot from a mix of the drugs and her emotions. She wanted to kick off the sheets covering her body.

“Why are you here?”

The corners of his mouth upturned and he smiled as though the question amused him.

“I’m checking to see how you’re doing. I heard you had quite an experience on the ship.” Morrotti stood up and walked over to the side of the bed. He was taller than she’d thought—over six feet—and lean with muscle. He reached over and poured her a glass of ice water.

She paused for a few seconds before eagerly taking the cup of water. The ice water tasted delicious and soothed her raw throat.

“Take it easy. You don’t want to get sick. Slow sips,” he said in a fatherly way.

“Why am I here?” she asked again.

“You’re hurt. We brought you to a private clinic to recuperate.”

“I understand that. But where are my friends?” Amber asked. When he didn’t answer right away, a feeling of dread settled into the pit of her stomach. “I’m sure everyone is worried about me.”

“We’ll talk about that in a minute.” Morrotti hesitated before he spoke again. “I need to discuss something with you first.”

“What?” Amber sat up straighter and tried to relax. She didn’t want him to know that she was scared.

“I want you to tell me what happened while you were aboard the
SeaStar
.” His crystal-blue eyes locked into hers.

Amber thought about his question for a moment. Of course she remembered most of what happened on the cruise, but some parts were still a little fuzzy. Like how she got here. Her last thought was of her and Josh on the lifeboat.

What she couldn’t figure out is why the owner of the cruise ship was here asking these questions. Why not the police or the FBI? And where the hell were her friends? Her parents?

“I don’t remember that much,” she finally said. She leaned over to take another sip of water and then winced from the pain in her ribs. “Just that I felt sick. One of the crew members walked me back to my cabin. After that is when things start to get a little hazy.”

“Do you remember the name of the crew member that helped you?”

She wasn’t sure how much to tell him. Something didn’t feel right about his questions. He was trying too hard to make her feel comfortable. Her heartbeat kicked into overdrive and she wanted to bolt from the room.

“Josh.” Amber forced herself to meet his gaze. To show him that she wasn’t afraid despite her heart jumping out of her chest. “Josh was his name,” she repeated.

“How much more do you remember?”

“He helped me to the cabin. When I told him that I didn’t feel well, he offered to go to the infirmary to get me some medicine.” She debated about telling him more until she understood what he wanted from her. “The last thing that I remember is waiting for him to come back.”

Morrotti looked at her suspiciously. He cleared his throat. “So you have no idea how you got off the ship?”

“No.” She rubbed her hand along the right side of her head. “I have a bump on my head. I must have fainted or passed out and hit it when I fell. That must be how I hurt my ribs, too.” She looked over at Morrotti to gauge his reaction. He eased away from her bedside and sat in the chair again. He looked at her, stone-faced, with no emotion.

“Yes, you were in bad shape when we found you.”

“You asked me how I got off the ship,” Amber said confused. “I don’t know. Where did you find me?”

“On the Freeport shoreline. My security crew found you.”

She knew he was lying. Why was he here? Why was he so eager to find out what she remembered? Something didn’t add up. She had to get out of this creepy place.

“Where are my parents?” she asked again. “They should be here by now. I want to call them.”

Morrotti settled back and smiled. “I think we both know your parents aren’t coming. Now tell me what you know about Josh McCain.”

R
achel woke up a few minutes before the alarm went off. The time was almost 5:00 a.m., her usual time to get up. A creature of habit whether she was on the road or at home, she always started the morning with a cup of coffee, strong with a splash of cream. Then no matter where she was, if the weather was good and water was available, Rachel took her stand-up paddleboard out for a spin. Her YOLO board was too hard to travel with, but the hotel concierge had hooked her up with a rental place on the island. She had missed the last couple of days due to
The Today Show
appearance and flying down to the Bahamas, so she was eager to get out on the board today. Paddling always helped to clear her head and reenergize her.

While waiting for her coffee to brew, Rachel put a rash guard over her red bikini and grabbed a towel and sunscreen. Today was going to be a good day. She could just feel it.

She filled her to-go cup with coffee, threw her cell phone and keys into her bag, and left the room. The concierge had arranged for a board to be delivered to the hotel for her, and she picked it up at the desk and headed toward the beach. The paddleboard was a standard twelve-footer, similar to the one she had at home. She’d be comfortable on it.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon, adding an orange hue to the brilliant-purple skies. As soon as Rachel’s feet hit the sand, she felt her tension melt away. Making sure her waterproof backpack was secured, she slung it over her shoulder and then gently pushed the board into the water. With one hand holding a paddle and the other gripping her board, she expertly straddled the board and then stood up. Dipping her paddle into the water, she stroked evenly through the small waves, determined to explore.

Rachel loved having the Caribbean waters all to herself. She glanced down just as a huge stingray swam under her board. Colorful fish darted in and out around the coral reef. She let her mind wander as she paddled.

The thought of visiting Asylum Harbor was exciting. She was anxious to find something that would lead to Amber’s safe return. After studying her maps last night, she realized that they had a large task at hand. The island was huge and there was a lot of ground to cover. Cabana Cay took up only a small southern portion of the island, but Asylum Harbor was vast, with a lot of inhabitable-looking areas. She figured that they’d probably be there all day, and she’d need every available volunteer on hand to accomplish an effective search. By the time they finished, she’d have left nothing unturned. If Amber was there, they’d find her.

She wondered if Mike was planning on attending the search. Drake hadn’t mentioned it the last time they’d talked. She knew Mike was worried about finding Shawn—and salvaging his own investigation as well. From the little time that she’d spent with Mike, she could tell he had the same passion and fire about his job that she did about hers.

He wasn’t a guy she’d typically be attracted to, but something about him just felt right. She tried to think of the things that made him so different from her ex-husband and all the other men she’d dated.
For one
, she thought,
he’s a good listener
, which moved him quickly up to the top of her list. Plus, he was a good-looking man, and beneath that tough exterior, she was sure he was a teddy bear. And she couldn’t deny that the attraction was mutual. When he touched her, she felt the sizzle that romance novels always described but she’d so easily dismissed.

Like a schoolgirl, she fantasized about what it would be like to kiss him. She wondered if his kiss would be tender and soft, or hungry and passionate.
Probably passionate
, she thought, as she made her way back to the shore. She could feel the burn in her arms and legs as she jumped off the board and let the cool waters wash over her. She lugged her board onto the sand and prepared to head back to the hotel. She was just minutes away from—

“Hey, Rach.” A voice interrupted her thoughts.

She was surprised to see Mike standing on the sidewalk. He was dressed in running shorts and a tank top. His muscles glistened with sweat.

“Hi. What are you up to?” Rachel felt herself blushing.

“Just finishing my run. What about you?” He looked over at her board.

“Paddleboarding,” Rachel said. “My Rx for stress relief.”

“I bet. I’ve seen those around the beach. I need to try that sometime.”

“I’ve got a board at home. The concierge set me up with this one to use. You’ll have to go with me next time.” Rachel dipped her head to the side and took a handful of hair, twisting it around in her hand, wringing out the excess water.

Mike seemed to consider her offer. “Maybe I will. Do you go every morning?”

“I try. It’s been a little hectic lately.”

“Right.” Mike swiped his forehead with a hand towel. “Any news on the photo?”

Rachel still couldn’t shake that someone was messing with her, but a part of her wanted to believe that it was real. Mallory was alive and someone had her. The photo looked like the real deal.

“Nothing yet. Drake sent it into his lab, but we haven’t heard anything.”

“Let me know if I can help in any way.” Mike smiled at her. “I need to get back to the room and shower. Get ready for our meeting this morning.”

“Me too.” Rachel picked up her board.

“Need help with that?”

She expertly hoisted the board on top of her head to distribute the weight. “Thanks, I got it. See ya in a few.”

Rachel could feel Mike’s eyes on her as she walked across the street to the hotel.

She left the board with the front desk and headed up to take a shower. She was eager to see what Drake had in store for them at the meeting.

“W
e’re leaving in a few minutes to head over to Cabana Cay.” Rachel held her cell phone in one hand while searching for her purse with the other. “If you could ask Red to call his friend Vance Pearson who runs a charter here in the Bahamas…We may need to use his boat if something turns up.”

Rachel gave her final instructions to Janine before she left to meet up with Drake and Phipps. She’d been crushed at this morning’s meeting to find out that they’d be escorted by the Royal Bahamas Police Force and that a cruise line representative would give them a guided tour. So much for a full, unencumbered search of the island. She wasn’t even allowed to bring her search team. With Drake and his team running the show, she didn’t have much choice in the matter.

She ended her conversation with Janine and gathered the rest of her stuff. According to Drake, this would just be a look-see operation, although she knew that he had agents ready to go if they found something of interest. So she had a backup plan of her own as well. Her team would be on standby, waiting for further instructions.

Rachel met Drake and Phipps in the lobby and they drove to the boat dock, where a representative of the Royal Bahamas Police Force would meet them for the trip to Cabana Cay. This was supposed to be a surprise visit, but somehow Rachel thought it would be anything but that.

The marina was busy with boats coming and going. Charter fishermen hauled tourists out for a day of deep-sea fishing, private yachts headed out for leisurely cruises, and colorful sailboats ready for a fun day skimmed the coastline. Drake spotted the slip where a thirty-two-foot cabin cruiser waited for them.

“Hi, I’m Quinn Miller with Special Ops. Assistant Commissioner Johnson asked me to give you folks a lift to Cabana Cay.” He waved them onto the boat. “Welcome aboard.”

Drake stepped on board first and helped Rachel. After everyone was settled on the deck, the captain moved them out into rather calm waters.

“Did you contact the folks at Cabana Cay to let them know we were coming?” Drake asked Quinn.

He nodded. “Assistant Commissioner Johnson arranged for us to take a tour of the island and meet with the manager.”

“How long will the trip take?” Rachel asked.

“About thirty-five minutes or so.” Quinn leaned back into his chair as he answered. He was slim and dressed in uniform blues. His dark skin contrasted with the white boat.

Everyone was quiet with his or her thoughts as they approached Cabana Cay. It was just as Matt had described. From afar, the island looked very tranquil. Beautiful sugary beaches with shallow turquoise waters. Hammocks strung up between palm trees, gently swaying with the breeze. A lone man in the distance raked the sand to smooth away the footprints the previous cruise passengers had left.
Amber’s footprints should have littered that beach
, Rachel thought. She should have been having fun with her friends, playing volleyball and dancing under the palm trees.

The captain radioed the island manager to let them know of their arrival. Rachel would have preferred to come unannounced, but nothing could be done about that now.

As they disembarked, they were met by a gentleman dressed in a SeaScape uniform—white pressed shorts and a navy-blue shirt with the company logo on the right breast pocket. His accent confirmed that he was a native of the Bahamian islands.

“Welcome to Cabana Cay,” he greeted them warmly. “I’m Joe Vermillion, the island manager.”

Quinn stepped forward and shook his hand. “Sorry for any inconvenience. As Assistant Commissioner Johnson told you, we’re still searching for the missing teenager from the
SeaStar
cruise liner. Miss Amber Knowles.”

The man nodded his head but didn’t speak.

Quinn continued, “In light of some new witness statements, we thought it was prudent to search the island.”

“I spoke to Mr. Morrotti, owner of the
SeaStar
, and he instructed me to tell you that you have our full cooperation,” Joe replied.

“Very well, then,” Quinn said. “These are Special Agents Drake Reynolds and Lee Phipps with the FBI. And Ms. Rachel Scott with Florida Omni Search.”

“Nice to meet all of you.” Joe pointed toward the golf cart. “I’ll take you on a quick tour of the island first? Then you can ask any questions you feel necessary. Cabana Cay is a large island, so we’ll take the golf cart.”

The golf cart had two seats up front and three rows of seats behind it, seating up to eight adults. Rachel sat up front with Joe and the guys sat behind her. He gave them a quick history of the island. Most of what he said they already knew from Stacy.

“Mr. Morrotti bought this island in August of two thousand two from an eccentric billionaire. Morrotti wanted a private island excursion for his cruise line passengers to enjoy.”

“How long have you been with the cruise line company?” Rachel asked him.

“Since two thousand three. I came on board in the middle of the island renovations. Mr. Morrotti invested a lot of money to get the island ready. There wasn’t much here at the time. Just a couple of bungalows and a main residence. He fixed those up for employees, and then built the restaurant, bar, and dive shop for the guests.”

“Does the staff live here full time?” Drake asked.

“We have eight people who live on the island.”

“What do they do?”

“I oversee the whole island. We also have a cook and maintenance and security personnel who stay here full time as well. The rest of the employees arrive on the island with the ship. The dive shop manager, bar staff, waitresses, and activity coordinator all come from the ship. Several employees pull double duty,” Joe explained. “Work on the ship and on the island.”

The golf cart came to a rolling stop at a line of small bungalows.

“These are the private cabanas that we rent out to passengers for five hundred dollars a day.” Joe got out of the cart and led them up the stairs to the cabana on the end. He unlocked the door and led the way inside. “As you can see, they have air-conditioning. Living area with sofa and small kitchenette. Compact fridge holds cold drinks. Private bath with shower—indoors and outdoors.”

Rachel walked around the cabana. It was about three hundred square feet, with an ample outside deck. She could see it would be a nice refuge from the heat of the day.

“These cabanas are kept locked during off days from the cruise lines?” Phipps asked.

“Yes. We clean after guest departures and then do a quick run through before the next guests arrive. The only occupants are cruise passengers. Our staff accommodations are located on the other end of the island.”

“Can we see those?” Drake asked.

“Sure,” Joe answered without hesitation.

They all climbed back on the golf cart and headed down the trail. Within a few minutes, they’d left behind the fun part of the island, and the trail became smaller, more overgrown, and less inhabited.

“Not many people get to see the behind-the-scenes stuff,” Joe commented. They pulled up to a gate and he pressed a button on a remote-control device. “This area is off-limits to our guests. For safety and security reasons.”

And to hide dead bodies
, Rachel thought, but didn’t say aloud.

The gate swung outward and Joe eased the cart through. Immediately, Rachel spotted a large warehouse off to the right.

Joe followed her gaze. “That’s where maintenance keeps all their equipment, plus the other resort golf carts. The laundry facility and storage are there as well. We’ll see that on the way out.”

After a few hundred feet, they rolled to a stop. “These are our employee quarters. Five bungalows, each with two bedrooms, a kitchenette, bathroom, and living area. My wife and I live in that one.” Joe pointed to one of the middle bungalows.

“Your wife works on the island as well?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah. She’s a former nurse and runs the first-aid station while the passengers are onshore. She also helps out at the gift shop. Everyone pitches in during arrival days.”

Joe unlocked the door to his bungalow and let everyone in.

Structurally, the bungalows were similar to the private cabanas, but larger to accommodate the needs of full-time employees. Joe’s place was well kept. His wife had added personal touches, including family photos and monogrammed pillows.

“It’s not much. We have a house in Freeport as well. Of course, most of our time is spent here on the island.”

Rachel felt that she was intruding in his personal space. She took a quick look around and walked back outside with Drake and Mike. Everything seemed normal. But there was that nagging feeling Rachel always got when something was off. She couldn’t put her finger on it. It was very quiet and eerie. Rachel felt a chill go down her spine.

“Who lives in the main residence?” Rachel asked.

“Mr. Morrotti uses it when he comes to visit.”

“Which is how often?”

Joe paused for a second. “Um…about twice a year. Sometimes other people from the corporate office stay there as well.”

“Is it occupied now?”

“Yes, it is. One of the regional directors is here.”

“Can we take a look around?” Quinn asked.

“Sure. I believe they’re out inspecting the island.”

They followed him up the steps to the plantation-style house. Rachel admired the old home. It was a white two-story frame house with a wide front porch. Tropical foliage surrounded the yard. Joe pushed the screen door open and they followed him inside. Delicious smells came from the back of the home.

“Judy is cooking lunch.” Joe sniffed the air. “Smells like her famous conch soup and corn muffins.”

At the mention of her name, a lady wearing a red apron walked around the corner. She was petite with short, wavy salt-and-pepper hair. “Hello.”

Joe made the introductions. “They’re looking for the missing American girl.”

“Oh, I see.” Judy wore a puzzled expression. “Excuse me for asking, but I thought I saw on the news that she fell overboard. Why in the world are you looking for her here?”

Rachel thought she caught an irritated look that Joe shot Judy.

Quinn answered for them. “It hasn’t been determined what happened to her. We have to follow up on every lead.”

“Certainly,” Judy answered, and then changed the subject. “Would you like some conch soup? There is plenty for everyone.”

“Thank you, but we still have some ground to cover,” Quinn graciously declined.

“It sure smells good, though.” Rachel’s stomach growled. She wouldn’t mind a taste of the island delicacy.

Joe showed them around the rest of the downstairs and then headed out to the back of the house. He pointed out a small shed that he explained held more equipment—mostly lawn care.

“Would you care to see anything else?”

“I think we’re good here,” Quinn said. “We don’t want to disturb your guests.”

“Very well. We’ll take the cart back to the warehouse. Then finish up at the restaurant. I’ll be happy to have the chef prepare you a sandwich and a cold drink for the ride back.”

“That would be nice,” Rachel answered for all of them.

A quick tour of the warehouse revealed what they expected. Laundrymen folded towels and the maintenance staff repaired equipment. The storage area contained items the staff needed to run this private island. Quinn seemed satisfied that everything was in order.

“Do you have any questions Joe could answer?” Quinn asked.

Drake looked around. “You mentioned you have several employees who stay here on the island. Other than Judy, do you have any young women who live here?”

“Judy is the only woman who stays on the island full time. Our security and maintenance staff are all men.” If Joe thought the question was peculiar, he didn’t show it.

“Do you run security cameras on the island?” Rachel asked.

Joe nodded. “Only on Cabana Cay around the restaurant and bar area. You’ll have to talk to the head of security at SeaScape if you need more information.”

“I think that does it. We appreciate your time,” Drake told him.

Rachel felt differently. She thought that they’d only scratched the surface of the island. Remembering back to last night, when she’d looked at her maps, she knew the island was very large. It covered close to a thousand acres, and they still hadn’t explored most of the terrain—or truly searched most of the buildings. She itched to get her people out here with equipment and take a look around without Joe to “guide” them. That probably wasn’t going to happen, though.

Their last stop was the island’s restaurant, Coco’s Two BBQ. The restaurant featured pulled-pork sandwiches, hot dogs, hamburgers, rotisserie chicken, and salads. It was served buffet style, just like on the ship. The chef also prepared light meals for the staff who lived there year-round.

“This is Chef Tyree,” Joe said, introducing them. “He’ll fix a box lunch to take with you.”

They all elected to try the pulled-pork BBQ sandwiches with chips and iced tea. Chef Tyree boxed the lunches up and put them in a large bag with plastic silverware.

“Have a safe trip back.” Chef Tyree handed them the lunch.

“Can I answer any other questions for you?” Joe asked as he guided them back to the waiting boat.

Drake shook his head. “We appreciate your time, Joe.”

“I hope you all come back again. Next time as cruise guests?” Joe laughed.

“Sure. Thanks again.” Drake led the group back onto the boat.

Quinn took his lunch inside to eat with the captain. Drake, Phipps, and Rachel sat on the deck and ate in silence.

Phipps was the first to speak. “I don’t know about you two, but something was a little off back there.”

“I thought the same thing,” Rachel said, relieved that she wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

“I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary,” Drake commented.

“That’s right—nothing out of the ordinary. Everything was just too…” Rachel trailed off in thought.

“Too normal?” Phipps finished for her.

“Yeah. Too normal,” Rachel answered. “I don’t know if it’s because they knew we were coming or the island is just plain creepy. I would love to go back with some of my guys and equipment. Take a look around without the guided tour.”