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“Yes, I heard,” Bob said.

She froze midturn.

He held a very, very scary-looking, really, really big black gun in his hand. And it was pointed at her.

“But what about the conference call?” she asked stupidly, staring at the hole in the end of the barrel.

“I’m afraid I felt compelled to mislead you,” Bob replied gently.

Chapter 21

FUCK.” Jordan bent over, trying to control the roaring in her ears. With the thumb of her left hand, she surreptitiously speed-dialed Darcy. “I’m going to pee my pants.”

“That’s disgusting,” Bob said. “Suck it up.”

You try having a b-big gun pointed at you,” she retorted, feeling both nauseous and faint.

“Shut up.” He followed her sidelong glance toward the other room. “And unless you want me to kill all those nice, innocent tourists as well, you won’t try to get their attention.”

Which was exactly what she’d been thinking. Shit. Where was a damn ghost when she needed one? Even Charlotte could have caused some kind of commotion with all the crap lying around his office, and the distraction would have given her a chance to run for it. The front door wasn’t that far away.

She straightened gingerly. And focused on the hole in the end of the gun barrel. Again. “Why?”

“Why what?” He kept the gun trained on her as he leaned over to pick up the wastebasket beside the desk. “You mean, why did I kill Holt? That’s simple—he was going to expose my family background.”

“But everyone already knows about your great-great-grandfather MacDonough.”

“Not that ancestor. Sam Garrett.”

You’re related to Garrett?” She stared at him, utterly confused.

“Good ole Grady married Garrett’s sister not too long after Seavey’s death. And I knew once you started looking at the marriage records, you’d figure it out. I couldn’t have that. Cellphone, in here, now.” He gestured with the wastebasket. “I can’t have you trying to contact anyone.”

Shit, shit, shit. She reached into her back jeans pocket and slowly withdrew it. Hopefully, Darcy was hearing all of this.

“I still don’t understand,” she said, trying to buy herself time. “What difference does it make if you’re related to Sam Garrett? I would think that kind of notoriety would bring people in by the droves to the Wooden Boat Festival.”

Bob snorted. “Being the descendant of a master ship’s carpenter is prestigious. Being related to a mass murderer? Not so much. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s an economic recession, and people aren’t making charitable contributions like they used to. One whiff of my being related to a mass murderer, and the contributions to the Wooden Boat Society would have dried up. Not to mention that the festival would have bombed this year. And Holt had plans to hold a press conference, the fool.”

“You sent out a call?” Michael Seavey asked, materializing beside her. “Why does this man have a gun pointed at you? What have you done now?”

Her knees almost gave out in relief. She splayed a hand out at her side, hoping he understood the signal.

Seavey raised a brow. “Indeed, I never willingly engage in physical violence unless there is sufficient provocation.”

“Have you ‘called’ the others?” she asked, sotto voce.

“I don’t recommend calling anyone, unless you want me to shoot you right here and now.” Bob gestured with the gun. “Come on, I’m losing patience with your juvenile stall tactics. Give me the damn phone.”

She palmed it so that he couldn’t see the lit screen and dropped it into the plastic basket. “The least you could do is have a nice hardwood wastebasket,” she prattled. “Plastic is so, well, low class—”

“Oh, that’s excellent,” Seavey said, his eyes rolling around in their sockets. “Increase the ire of the person holding the gun. I’m amazed you’ve managed to remain alive this long, given your lack of survival instinct.”

He had a point.

“I’m not stupid enough to spend money on a goddamn wastebasket, when that money would otherwise go straight into my bank account,” Bob said impatiently. Setting down the wastebasket, he said in a more pleasant tone, “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do: You’ll come around behind the desk, and then we’ll quietly leave by the back door. If you make any noise, I’ll drop you right here with a bullet through your spine. If you try to get anyone’s attention, I’ll kill you, then shoot them. Got it?”

“Oh, dear. This indeed might be more serious than I first believed,” Seavey murmured.

“You think?” Jordan asked.

“I think what?” Bob knit his brow.

“Never mind. Where are you taking me?” She was afraid she already knew the answer.

“You and I are going on a little boat ride. Bodies are much harder to find if they’re dumped out in the Inlet.”

“He’s quite correct in that regard,” Seavey said.

“No shit,” Jordan snapped. “Are you going to do something, or not?”

“What would you have me do? Try to knock the gun out of his hand? These are very close quarters—you might inadvertently be shot. I believe our best opportunity will occur once we are outside.”

“Jesus,” Bob snapped. “I just told you what I’m going to do. You’re fucking crazy! I have a fucking gun, and I’m calling the shots. Now, move.”

She rubbed trembling hands against her jeans, then walked around the desk. If she let him put her on the boat, she knew she was a goner.

Taking her upper arm in a painful grip, Bob snugged the gun barrel against her back. “Okay, let’s go. Look like we’re having a pleasant walk and chat, or you’ll be responsible for the deaths of others as well as your own.”

He pushed her toward the back door, told her to open it, and then they were outside on the docks. Seavey floated along next to them. Turning her toward a long line of boat slips, Bob said, “Keep going, but not too fast.”

“Believe me,” she retorted, her mind racing to come up with some sort of strategy, “I’m in no hurry.”

“A sense of humor,” he replied with a chuckle. “I like that. In fact, I like you, Jordan. It’s a damn shame I can’t keep you around.”

He actually sounded as if he regretted what he was about to do. “So why don’t you give it some thought?” she bargained. “I’m willing to keep everything quiet. We can make a deal.”

“No, you aren’t,” he replied, sounding amused. “This whole goddamn town listens to you now. They all think you talk to ghosts, which I know is a bunch of crap. You’re just making this stuff up as you go.”

Seavey puffed up threateningly. “He believes you are lying about us?”

“Call the others,” Jordan murmured. “The more chaos, the better.”

Seavey shook his head. “I don’t want to put Hattie at risk. Or Charlotte, for that matter.”

“How would they be at risk? He can’t see you.” Jordan added for incentive, “He murdered your nephew, you know.”

Seavey’s expression darkened.

“Oh, that’s cute, Jordan.” Bob chuckled again, this time digging the gun hard into her side and making her yelp. “Do you really think pretending to talk to ghosts is going to convince me they exist? I’m not that gullible. You must really need a lot of attention to feel good, babe, that’s all I can say.”

“But what about all that stuff you said about me seeing ghost ships?” she asked.