think my sister mentioned that, too. I should leave a note in our room to let her know where I’ll be.”
“We’ll save you seats,” Mom chirped as they headed out.
“Beside me,” Tommy squealed.
Sam couldn’t blame his family for taking such a shine to her. But it was the gleam in his mother’s eye that had him worried. That and Jen’s wistful tone when she whispered close to his ear, “Your family’s great.”
They were. But they might not think the same about him after her arrest.
* * *
Leaving Sam in the hall, Jen crossed her cabin to the desk to jot a quick note for Cass. A smile tugged at her lips. Years ago, before the art gallery, she, Cass and their parents could while away an entire rainy afternoon playing games. Thank you, Lord, for allowing us to cross paths with Sam and his family.
A breeze whispered through her hair.
Jen’s attention jerked to the open balcony door—then the closed bathroom door. “Cass, you back?”
No response.
The hair on Jen’s neck prickled. Had she forgotten to close the door before she left? She reached to close it and glimpsed a man’s shoe reflected in the wall mirror. “Sam!” she screamed.
Her intruder sprang from his hiding place and shoved her hard into the desk.
Sam rushed into the room just as the guy leaped onto the balcony rail and scrambled up a rope.
Sam grabbed his foot, but the guy caught Sam’s chin with a wild kick, sending him reeling backward. Jen rushed to help him, but roaring his anger, Sam lunged for the guy a second time.
The guy shimmied out of sight, taking the rope with him.
Sam peered after him. “He climbed into the lifeboat suspended over the next deck up.”
Jen raced back into the cabin and phoned security.
In minutes, the same security officer who’d questioned her last night showed up at her cabin door. As Sam relayed what happened, she looked in drawers and cupboards and suitcases to see what was missing. Trembling overtook her limbs. “Why was he here? What does he want?”
“Did you get a good look at him?” the officer asked. “Was it the same man who gave you the drink last night?”
“I don’t know.” She clenched her fists, refusing to fall apart in front of these men. “It happened too fast. And last night is too fuzzy to remember. But he had dark hair. I couldn’t tell what color eyes. He was four, maybe six, inches taller than me. Wore brown leather shoes. And gloves. The surgical kind.”
The officer relayed the description over his radio to men scouring the next deck. “Can you think of anything else? Clothes? Hair length?”
“He wore jeans,” Sam said.
“Short hair,” Jen added.
“Okay, my men are checking security footage now. Hopefully we’ll be able to pinpoint who this guy is. What did he take?”
“Noth—” Jen swallowed to clear the catch in her throat. “Nothing that I can see. The safe hasn’t been opened.”
“What do you think he was after?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know!” She ducked her head and chewed on her bottom lip, embarrassed at her outburst. “Cass and I don’t have any more valuables in here than anyone else would.”
“But given last night’s incident, this doesn’t feel like a random robbery.” The officer clicked his pen. “Did you recognize any names on the list?”
“What list?”
The officer shifted his attention back to Sam. “We sent it to your room this morning. Didn’t you get it?”
Sam pulled an envelope from his pocket—the envelope that had been sitting in the holder outside his door when they’d arrived. He removed a paper and handed it to her. “This lists every passenger who bought a soft drink anywhere on the ship in the thirty minutes prior to the waiter offering you that drink last night.”
She stared at the list—three columns long—and gulped.
“You recognize any of the names?” the officer asked.
Jen sank onto the bed, the paper shaking in her hand.
Sam hunkered beside her and rested his hand on her forearm. His warmth seeped into her chilled bones and stilled her trembling. She darted him a grateful glance, but his attention was fixed on the page.
The names were listed alphabetically. By the time she reached the Ps, she shook her head. “I don’t know any of these people.”
Sam’s brow furrowed. “You know at least one.”
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