Haunted Destiny by Heather Graham

decided he’d wait to see what this woman had to say. In any case, she had nowhere to go. But his quarry was definitely gone.
    â€œWell, Alexi, keep it down, huh? Most of the ship’s asleep.”
    â€œI know, and I’m sorry.”
    â€œAnd just between us, we’re on the lookout for men who’re acting badly. Bothering women and such.”
    â€œOh?” That really seemed to surprise Alexi. “ Was someone...bothered?”
    He shrugged. “We’re supposed to be extra-vigilant. So, you’re absolutely sure you’re okay?”
    â€œYes, thank you, Johnny.” Johnny the security guard nodded at both of them and went back in the direction from which he’d come.
    Alexi Cromwell looked at him, her eyes grave and troubled. “We can’t talk here. You can...you can come to my cabin.”
    When his day had begun—or when the previous day, actually had begun—the last thing he’d expected was that he’d wind up standing in a deserted hallway on a slumbering ship, a stunning woman in front of him, inviting him to her cabin.
    And yet, he knew instantly that it wasn’t a sexual overture.
    â€œMs. Cromwell,” he warned her. “You’d better have an explanation.”
    She stepped away, assessing him. “Right. You’re no Celtic American bigwig. I’m assuming you’re some kind of law enforcement.”
    â€œFBI,” he told her.
    She nodded. “FBI. Well, you’re also what we call a magic man.”
    â€œMagic man?”
    â€œYou see the dead. Magic man —it’s an old term in my family. I think it originated with a grandmother who lived on the bayou. Please, just come with me. I’ll do my best to explain.”

3
    J ude McCoy, FBI man, entered Alexi’s cabin, not saying a word until they were seated in her tiny quarters. Alexi perched on the bed, McCoy sat in the one chair, which faced the dressing table built into the wall.
    â€œDead?” McCoy said, turning the chair toward her. “You mean our suspect? And yet he was running around the city of New Orleans and now the ship.”
    His skepticism was blatant. “Ms. Cromwell, I saw that man at a murder scene in New Orleans. We chased him to this ship. He snagged a ride with some poor bastard on the street who thought he was about to get killed. Oh, by the way, I believe that poor guy’s in the hospital with a heart attack. Now the suspect’s on the ship. I saw him.”
    â€œYes,” she said. “Whether you accept it or not, you see the dead. Trust me.”
    â€œYou’re telling me you’re aiding and abetting a dead man we chased from the scene of a horrific crime?”
    â€œYes. I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to him. He led you here on purpose.”
    â€œA dead man led me here?”
    He didn’t raise his voice. But the sharp look he gave her suggested he’d be good in an interrogation room. If she’d done something, she thought, she’d admit it quickly. He was still, calm, and while his voice had a strange power, he kept it low and intense.
    â€œI didn’t get to hear the whole story,” she said. “I gather you came after him.”
    â€œIf he’s dead, why is he afraid of me?”
    â€œI don’t really know the answer to that,” Alexi replied. “I didn’t get enough time to talk to him. All I know is that he believes the killer’s on this ship. Yes, you saw him at the crime scene. He saw you there—and he saw that you were aware of him. He planned on coming on the ship. Look, I see the dead. It doesn’t mean I understand them any more than I understand the living.”
    He leaned toward her. “I saw a man at a crime scene. The older guy driving the car saw him. I’m pretty sure a girl in a bar saw him, and I know my partner on this ship did, too. So, what—we all see the dead? Everybody does?”
    â€œNo, but