Haunted Destiny by Heather Graham

and I don’t think he ever knew I wasn’t...alive. And then...hey, if I hurt that dude who got me to the ship, man, I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just... I just want to stop more people from being killed.”
    Jude let out a long breath, still unable to grasp that he was sitting in Alexi Cromwell’s tiny cabin on the Destiny discussing the case with a ghost—a victim of the killer.
    And feeling disturbed by the fact that he did believe he was talking to a ghost.
    â€œWe have a list of people who might’ve been in the areas where the women were killed,” he said. “May I show you the pictures, see if any of them seem familiar?”
    Byron Grant nodded. “Of course.”
    Alexi rose, leaving her perch for Jude. Drawing his phone from his pocket, he slipped by her to sit next to the ghost.
    He brushed against her and was startled to feel sparks racing through his system. She was a very attractive woman, and he was feeling a strong physical pull toward her. And that made things more complicated... He held his thoughts in check and carefully displayed the photos Angela Hawkins had emailed him and Jackson; one by one he went through them all.
    â€œI wish I knew,” Byron said. He hesitated. “This guy...”
    â€œThis one? David Beach? He’s head of security on the ship.”
    â€œRight. No, you can eliminate him. I’ve seen him. He’s huge. The guy who got me was probably about six feet tall.”
    â€œGood. That helps,” Jude said. He rose and paced the few steps to the cabin door. “Can you think of anything else? A scent—was he wearing aftershave or cologne? Did he smoke? Anything odd about his hands? Did you see his hands?”
    He turned back to look at Byron Grant.
    But the ghost was gone.
    And for a moment he felt absolutely ridiculous, as if he was the butt of a massive joke. He was standing there, talking away, carrying on a conversation with...no one.
    An illusion.
    Alexi Cromwell was still there, leaning against the wardrobe, eyes enormous.
    â€œHe was really here,” she said softly. “Sometimes...well, I think it takes a tremendous amount of energy to appear so...completely and to talk and... He’ll be back.”
    He didn’t say anything.
    He should have thanked her. He didn’t.
    Nodding curtly, he turned and left her room.
    There were a few things, unusual things, in his past—like the dead appearing to him—and he was going to have to deal with it all, the then and the now.
    * * *
    Cruise ships tended to be happy places.
    The cruise line did everything possible to ensure that guests were happy; music played constantly, most of it live. Frenetic tour directors carried on bingo parties, pool parties, disco parties and more.
    And in the Caribbean, the sun shone down on sparkling water most of the time, shimmering as if the sea were scattered with diamonds. On the Destiny , people seemed to be complying with the cruise “regulation” that they have fun.
    Jude needed to go talk to Jackson.
    But for a few minutes, he had to be alone, hoping the sweet-salt breeze would wash away the heavy fog of darkness that had settled over his mind.
    He left the crew’s quarters, mounting the richly carpeted steps from floor to floor until he reached the top deck and walked aft, leaned against the rail and let the sun soak into him while the breeze swept around him. Neither had any effect on the chill that seemed to have crept into his bones.
    Once, in the military, he’d believed that he was experiencing PTSD. Post-traumatic stress disorder. Later in his life he’d used the very situation that sometimes made him think he was crazy to become a crack field officer with the bureau. Only he called it “intuition.” Or talked about “hunches” and “gut feelings” to explain his success at solving crimes.
    The Caribbean still rippled with that diamond effect, but