“No, Liam, no!” Vanessa said. “He’s hiding. He’s watching out—for us.”
“He said he was attacked on the ship, and he knows it had to be by one of the crew. He was struck on the head. He says Lew Sanderson will vouch for all this. He’s been keeping his secret all this time. He was tossed overboard, assumed dead or left to drown.”
“This is crazy,” David said.
“Vanessa, can Lew actually be an alibi? You don’t know that Lew wasn’t guilty,” Liam pointed out.
“Oh, please, I can’t believe that Carlos is lying.” She stared at them all. “Ask Bartholomew! Your friendly neighborhood ghost believes in him. We all know that faith can’t be held or seen, and I have faith in Carlos.”
“I hope you’re right, Vanessa,” Liam said softly. “I really hope you’re right. If not, you’ve just fed into the psychosis of a savage murderer.”
“Vanessa?” Katie asked.
“I know I’m right.”
“I’ll tell Uncle Jamie what’s going on, and he’ll let Marty know,” Sean said.
David nodded. “What do you think he’s waiting for?” he asked.
“The murderers to show themselves,” Sean said.
“And how will they do that?” Liam asked dryly.
“They’ll try to find a way to separate someone from the rest—and murder them, as well,” Sean said.
Liam nodded. “Somehow, we’ll have to find a way to bait them.”
That night, Vanessa knew that Sean was still angry with her.
He played his part well in front of others, but she knew. She knew the tension that knotted his body, and she knew the tone of his voice.
It wasn’t until they had gone to bed for the night that she realized just how angry.
“First you lied to me about him,” he told her, keeping his distance, arms locked behind his head as he stared up at their canvas roof. “You lied about seeing him. Then you did the most horrendously stupid thing in the world. You walked off into the woods.” He stared at her then. “Don’t! Don’t even try to get mad at me for saying it was horrendously stupid because you know it was.”
“Yes.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“I know it was stupid,” she said softly. “Sean, I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “Sorry? Vanessa…that can’t always cut it, you know,” he told her.
She fell silent for a moment, aware of his distance. “Want me to sleep somewhere else?” she asked, praying that he would say no.
“I’m angry, Vanessa. Furious. You risked your life, you risked other lives. I’m disturbed about this trust thing we’ve got going—or not going. But your plan is to walk away anytime it gets rough between us. No. I don’t want you to go away—and I don’t want you running away from me when I’m right to be angry.”
She stared at him, not knowing what to say. She could have told him that she was pretty sure that she never wanted to leave.
But she didn’t know if that would be right at the moment.
She eased down by his side and laid her head on his chest.
After a moment, she felt his hand on her hair. And in time, he drew her to him.
That night, she dreamed. In the dream, she was still in his arms. She woke because there was a woman in the tent, standing before her.
She wasn’t afraid, and she didn’t know why she wasn’t afraid.
She had seen the woman before, on a crowded afternoon in Key West, when pirates and wenches were everywhere.
She should be afraid. She was certain that the woman was Kitty Cutlass. Pretty, not quite beautiful. Not dressed elegantly. Worn, tired.
“Please, if you would just understand,” she said.
“I think I do,” Vanessa told her. “You didn’t kill Dona Isabella. Dona Isabella planned the attack. The ship had riches on it that were supposed to go with her to her husband in Spain. She didn’t want to go to Spain, and she didn’t want her husband. She arranged with Mad Miller that he should attack the ship, but…she wanted to control the pirates, and she didn’t want you. You were the body in the chest, Kitty. It was you.”
The woman, the ghost in front of her, smiled sadly.
“She is evil.”
“She is dead now, too, Kitty,” Vanessa said. “She died in the storm.”
“Evil doesn’t die,” Kitty said. “You must be careful. Evil doesn’t die.”
Kitty faded away.
A few moments later, Vanessa awoke. She looked around the tent and realized quickly that there was no place for anyone to hide in the small tent.
She lay back and listened to Sean’s breathing, felt his warmth and the pulse of his heart.
She wondered if she had been guessing at the truth all along, and if the figurehead image of Dona Isabella leading her into a trap that day hadn’t finally made it clear in her mind.
Then she had straightened it all out in a dream.
Either that, or…
The ghost of Kitty Cutlass had been in her tent.
Either way, she felt that it was important that she knew what had happened. Somehow, letting everyone know the truth was going to help them solve the mystery.