Ghost Ship (NUMA Files 12)

She zipped the bag shut and decided to hike down to the stable and turn the animals out. There was no reason for them to burn to death.

Throwing the pack over one shoulder, she left the bedroom, entered her sitting room, and tracked straight for the door. As she approached the door, she noticed it was closed but not shut. That was more than odd, she never left the door unlatched.

She put her hand in the bag, grabbing for her pistol.

“Sorry, Calista,” a voice said from behind her. “I’m afraid it’s game over.”

She froze in her tracks. The timbre of the voice was easily recognizable, as was the calm and certain delivery of the words. She had no doubt that Kurt Austin was standing behind her.

“Toss the bag on the floor and turn around slowly,” he said.

She let her shoulders sag and flipped the backpack into a corner. Pivoting slowly, she found Kurt sitting in a high-backed Victorian chair, aiming a lethal-looking rifle in her direction.

“I believe we’ve done this before,” she said.

“We have,” Kurt replied, standing up. “And we’re going to keep doing it until we get it right.”

She studied him for a moment. He looked out of place with all the armor. Less handsome, less unique. As if he’d read her mind, he pulled off the hood.

“How on earth did you get in here?” she asked. “We have cameras, guards, motion sensors.”

“Nothing’s foolproof,” Kurt said.

That much was certain. “You can’t expect to get out alive,” she said. “We’re ready for you. We’ve been waiting for you to make a move.”

His eyebrows went up. “Really?” he said. “Because it doesn’t look that way to me. Your men at the front gate are half asleep. The gang in the bunkhouse are celebrating like it’s Bastille Day. And we’ve already found the hostages while taking out two of your guards. All without the slightest peep from the rest of you.”

“There are at least fifty men here loyal to my brothers and me. You’re overwhelmingly outnumbered.”

“For now,” he said smugly.

She pursed her lips. So there were reinforcements coming. And coming soon. Her brother was sitting around foolishly thinking they were not in danger yet. Her feelings were torn. Silently she cursed him for his arrogance even as she wished she could warn him.

“If you’ve already won, then what do you want from me?” she asked. “Answers perhaps? Are you still trying to figure out what happened to you on the Ethernet?”

He smiled at her. It was a grin both endearing and proud. “Too late for that,” he said. “I know what happened. Enough of it anyway. It all came back once they debugged me in Korea.”

She shifted her weight. “Then you know if it wasn’t for me, you’d have been killed and buried at sea in the hull of that yacht just like all the others we encountered.”

“Considering that you caused the danger in the first place, that doesn’t really carry a lot of weight with me. On the other hand,” he added, “I do have a newfound appreciation for the importance of remembering the past accurately, thanks to you. That being the case, I thought I’d return the favor.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, growing tired of the conversation.

He studied her with those ice-blue eyes, taking her in, measuring her. Finally, he unzipped a diagonal pocket on the right sight of his vest and pulled from it a folded sheet of paper. He placed it down on the small stand between the chairs, smoothed it flat, and then pulled away.

“Take a look” was all he said.

She hesitated and then stepped cautiously forward, reaching for the paper like someone might reach for a dangerous animal, keeping as much distance between her body and the printed sheet as possible.

She tilted the page to catch the light and gave the image a quick once-over. “What is this supposed to be?”

“It’s a family,” he said. “Believe or not, it’s your family. Your real family.”

She looked up at him suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”

She noticed he was watching her with a sort of detached, almost professorial look.

“The Brèvards aren’t your family, Calista, the people in the photograph are. The woman’s name is Abigail. She was your mother. Her friends called her Abby. The man’s name is Stewart, he was your father. The two boys are Nathan and Zack—or I should say, they were named Nathan and Zack.”