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Exposure At Sea

By Cynthia Hickey

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Chapter 1
A woman screamed.
Molly Nicholson jerked, spun, and almost knocked her camera off its tripod.
A man held a woman around the waist, and swung her with a sheer look of joy on her face as she leaned back. His laugh rang over the milling crowd of passengers. Molly smiled at their matching tee shirts. Must be newlyweds.
She relaxed and turned to survey the ship docked in front of her. Her new job as a photographer aboard Midnight Cruise Lines couldn’t have come at a better time. She needed some fun in her life.
An ocean breeze teased her hair, and she lifted her face to greet it, filling her lungs with the fresh, moist air of Honolulu. Closing her eyes, she breathed a prayer of thanksgiving. The sun caressed her cheeks, and Molly smiled. She’d be sailing in a couple of hours on her dream job.
“You must be Molly.”
She opened her eyes to a curvy woman with a bouncy ponytail the color of mahogany. The woman thrust out her hand in welcome. “I’m Suzy Harkin, the events coordinator. I’m so pleased to meet you. We’ll be great friends. I just know it. Aren’t you excited? I always am when embarking on a new adventure.”
Molly’s smile widened at Suzy’s exuberance. “Where would you like me to stand?”
“Right here by this sign. When the passengers are ready to board, they’ll pause long enough for you to snap their picture.” Suzy handed Molly several sheets of paper. “Here are some of the events we’d like you to attend. Your main job is to offer our passengers photos of their fun times. You’ll switch off with Daniella, our other photographer. That way, you’ll have lots of time to enjoy yourself. See you later!” With a wave of her fingers, Suzy bounded up the gangplank.
The happy couple continued to cavort like children, and Molly snapped their photo as the groom swept his bride into his arms in a traditional across-the-threshold lift. The woman giggled and buried her face in his neck. Molly sighed. The sight of them wrapped up in their love withered Molly’s heart. Would she ever know such joy in the arms of a man? Not likely. With her penchant for choosing some real winners, the task seemed monumental.
Over the next couple of hours, she took photo after photo of smiling, laughing, tourists until she thought her face would freeze in a perpetual grin and her finger fall off from clicking the shutter button. She ought to be more grateful. How often did a girl get to accept a job on one of the most luxurious cruise lines in North America?
Another passenger hurried toward the gangplank. Molly lifted her camera. “Smile.”
“No pictures.” The man flung up a hand to block the lens, and rushed past. Details of his profile registered in Molly’s mind. Salt and pepper hair. Black polo shirt. Khaki pants. Footsteps pounding as he dashed onboard.
“Have a wonderful trip anyway.” Molly lowered her arms. How rude.
Leaning against the iron railing, she surveyed the surroundings. Across a narrow asphalt drive, sat an ugly nondescript warehouse. Grey brick. Tall windows, some broken. The faint odor of fuel mixed with the aroma of exotic flowers. The passenger photos would be nicer without such an unattractive backdrop. Considering the expense of sailing Midnight Cruise Lines, you’d think they’d dock somewhere more upscale. She searched for a better place to stand.
“You can take mine, if you’d like.” A voice rumbled across her as gentle as a summer rain.
“Smile.” She raised the camera to focus and froze. His inky hair ruffled in the ocean breeze. Any man who appeared this good through the camera lens must look incredible on the other side of the camera.
Eyes as dark as Mississippi mud sparkled, and a dimple winked from his right cheek. He hooked his thumb through his belt loop and leaned against a post. Uh-oh. Devastatingly handsome, and he knew it.
The sling on his arm didn’t detract from his appearance. Instead, Molly wanted to help him. She’d always been one to pick up wounded strays. Not anymore. This was one clipped bird she’d stay far away from. She clicked the button a few times. The man’s good looks begged to be frozen in time.
“All done. You can purchase photos any evening after five o’clock in the gift shop.” Molly pasted on her “professional” smile.
“Will you be selling them?” The man towered over her five-foot-two frame. His gaze flicked to her name tag.
“No, I, uh, will be working.” Molly straightened to appear taller and tried to focus her attention on her equipment. Anywhere but on the handsome stranger.
“Okay, Molly. I’ll see you around. My name’s Lance. It’s nice to meet you.” He gave her a mock salute and strolled onto the ship.
Gracious. She put a hand to her chest to slow her heart rate and stared after him until another passenger claimed her attention.
*
Lance Spencer had almost turned tail and run when he’d seen the sprite behind the camera. Except those sea-blue eyes and corn silk curls reeled him in like one of those deep sea bass he hoped to. After meeting her, taking the cruise while healing seemed like an even better idea. Why not indulge in a harmless flirtation at sea? Fun for a week, then walk away. Wasn’t that what his buddies advised?
With another glance over his shoulder, he proceeded up the gangplank. People milled about the deck. Another woman, identified as Suzy by the name tag, helped direct lost passengers. A man in a white medical jacket answered the questions of an elderly couple. By the way he kept glancing at the clock, Lance knew he had somewhere else to be. Lance smiled and moved inside.
An older man, wearing an expensive polo shirt and khaki pants, slumped on a sofa, while a red-faced bellboy apologized profusely for losing his bags. A vase of orchids filled the air with perfume.
A city on the waves. He’d feel right at home. Now, as long as he reminded himself he was on a much-needed vacation, he’d be fine. He glanced at the ticket in his laptop bag. Cabin 3106. Plaza deck. An ocean-view stateroom.
He quickened his step and shot out a hand. “Hold the elevator!”
Crowded shoulder-to-shoulder, passengers stood in a silent clump and avoided each other’s eyes. Lance smiled. No time to make new friends, obviously. The irate man with the lost luggage squeezed inside and pressed the button for the Penthouse level.
Lance raised his eyebrows. He’d thought about a cabin on the Penthouse deck, but holding onto most of his savings seemed the wiser choice. He didn’t plan to spend a lot of time in his room.
Exiting on his floor, he found his cabin, first door on his right, and inserted his key. Across the small space an azure sky filled the window. Two over-sized twin beds occupied the wall opposite. A closet of a bathroom, a small table with two chairs, a television, and this was home for the next week. His luggage lay on top of one of the beds. His garment bag hung from a hook on the back of the door. A brochure with meal and show times lay on the table next to an itinerary and another vase of sweet-smelling flowers. He chuckled. There’d be glimpses of the tropics around every corner it seemed.
Two hours until dinner. Plenty of time for a short nap. Lance flopped across the empty bed and closed his eyes. There was no one he needed to wave goodbye to. Let the other passengers toss confetti. The ship rocked as it pulled away from the dock, a whistle blew, and images of a curly-haired photographer with a dusting of freckles flickered across his mind.
*
Molly dropped the camera’s SIM card at the photo lab and shuffled to the miniscule cabin she shared with one of the waitresses. With dinner in thirty minutes, Hilga wasn’t in.
With a sigh, Molly kicked off her shoes. The cruise lines insisted the employees dress nice in the evenings, and Molly’s favorite little black dress hung in the closet. Too bad the look wouldn’t have the same va-va-va-voom with practical flats on her feet. Comfort above all else, right?
She headed for the closet-like bathroom; big enough for a stand-up shower, pedestal sink, and a toilet. Turning the water to hot, she shed her clothes and stepped in. Minutes later, shower complete, Molly dressed in a cotton robe, grabbed her Bible, and pounced on the bed. She turned to Psalms and let the words soothe away the stress of the day.
“Better wake up.” Hilga’s words ricocheted around the cabin. Molly’s eyes flew open as her roommate ducked out of the room. “Bob’s having a coronary.”
The bedside clock glowed with 6:15. “Oh, no.” Dinner call was fifteen minutes ago. Molly scrambled from the bed and snatched her dress from the hanger. Thank God she’d put her makeup on before reading. Her hair didn’t require maintenance. There wasn’t anything she could do to tame it anyway. She grabbed her badge and camera, then dashed after Hilga.
A stream of laughing passengers made their way to the restaurant. Molly kept a grin she hoped didn’t resemble a grimace on her face, and speed walked past them to enter the restaurant ahead of the large group.
She burst into the spacious dining area and came face-to-face with the chief purser’s frown. Bob pointed at his watch. Molly mouthed, “I’m sorry” and mingled to snap photos of couples enjoying their first meal onboard.
The tantalizing aromas of beef and exotic foods filled the air. Molly’s stomach growled, reminding her she’d worked through lunch.
When Lance strolled in, her heart almost stopped, and she switched directions in order to concentrate on her job. It ought to be a sin to look as yummy as he did.
“Molly.” Antonio, a small, wiry man that developed the cruise’s photos hissed her name from around the corner to the kitchen.
“You have the pictures ready?”
“Ready for purchase. Except one.” He glanced from side to side. “I need you to look at something. Can you come to the lab?”
“In about thirty minutes.”
Antonio frowned. “This is important.”
Molly glanced in Bob’s direction. He chatted with a table full of passengers.
Please, God, don’t let me get fired my first night.
“Okay, but we have to be quick.”
“This will be worth it. Trust me.” He sprinted toward the stairs.
Molly followed. Her short legs prevented her from keeping Antonio’s pace. By the time they reached the lab, blisters formed on her heels. Once safely inside, Antonio locked the door behind them, grabbed her arm, and dragged her to the table in the center of the lab. Molly glanced his way then down.
“What?” The photo was the one she’d snapped of the honeymoon couple in front of the warehouse.
“Look close. In the window behind them.”
Molly gasped. Two definite silhouettes. One with its hands wrapped around the throat of the other.
“We need to find out who they are.” Molly lifted the picture by the corner.
“Won’t be hard. They’re passengers.”
“You know them?”
Antonio shrugged. “I was … sneaking a smoke around the corner. I heard shouts and peeked. Two men. One middle-aged with salt and pepper hair and wearing a polo shirt. The other, younger, not as well dressed. Maybe staff here on ship.”
“You didn’t see their faces?”
“Not good. I might recognize the passenger. I saw his profile. The other had his back to me.”
“Should we tell the captain?”
Antonio shook his head. “Not yet. Let me make another copy of the photo. I’ll get it to you when I’ve finished printing the rest of the pictures.”
“Okay.” She could check to see whether anyone missed reporting for work once the ship sailed. The other man with the graying hair would be more difficult to locate. Half the passenger list probably contained men with the color hair Antonio described.
“You need to be careful.” Antonio tried to grab the photo. Molly held it behind her back.
“Why?”
“The taller one looked your way when the camera flash went off.”

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