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She responded, I thought you were here. Where are you now and why playing games? Call me.
Her gaze burned a hole in her phone as she waited for Marten’s response. Someone bumped her elbow and she glanced up.
“Sorry.” A woman held up her hand. “Were you on that ferry to Alcatraz?”
“I was.”
“What happened? I heard someone went overboard.”
“That’s what they told us, but nobody seems to be missing anyone. I guess they’re checking tickets now and the coast guard is still searching the bay.”
The woman hunched her shoulders. “Is that going to be a thing now? Instead of jumping from the bridge, they’re going to jump from the ferry?”
“Jump?” Hailey massaged the back of her neck.
“Nobody just falls off the Alcatraz ferry.” The woman waved at a man approaching and glanced over her shoulder. “Have a nice night.”
Suicide? Who would commit suicide by jumping off the ferry to Alcatraz? Especially Marten.
Hailey shook her head and peered at her phone. She input a row of question marks for the silent Marten.
“Now what?” She crossed her arms and scanned the crowd of tourists streaming along the Embarcadero on their way to and from Fisherman’s Wharf and Pier 39 with all its shops and restaurants.
Food. Marten had insisted on the night tour to Alcatraz, and now her stomach was growling. She’d head down to Fisherman’s Wharf with the rest of the tourists and pick up some seafood from the sidewalk stands.
Cranking her head over her shoulder, she took a last look at the ferry terminal. Had the man who’d gone overboard been wearing a black hat...like Marten’s? Where had the hat gone?
But Marten had never boarded the ferry. He’d never even bought a ticket.
She looked at her phone again. Why wouldn’t he answer her? He’d better be prepared for questions when they got together, because she had a ton.
She shoved the phone in her pocket and joined the hordes on the sidewalk. She wove her way through the tourists as they stopped to watch the performers along the street.
When she reached the seafood stands on the sidewalk, she jostled for position, elbowing with the best of them. She leaned forward and ordered some clam chowder in a sourdough bread bowl.
Clutching her plate with the bowl of steaming chowder perched on top of it, she wormed her way back to the sidewalk and walked toward a set of wooden steps that led down to the part of the wharf with the maritime museum and the submarine, both closed at this time of night and affording a little calm from the chaos on the sidewalk above. She’d try giving Marten a call.
When she was about halfway down the steps, someone came up behind her and grabbed her arm. Her heart slammed against her chest, and her dinner began tipping to the side.
The man steadied her plate and whispered in her ear, “Act naturally. Someone’s following you—the same person who murdered Marten de Becker.”
Chapter Two
Hailey Duvall’s slim hand formed a fist, and he clenched his jaw, bracing for a punch to his face.
A shadow passed over them from the top of the stairs, and Joe threw his head back and laughed. Pretending he and Hailey were old friends, he said to her, “I told you to get me some food. I’ll take one of these.”
A crease formed between Hailey’s delicate eyebrows, and her nostrils flared. Her gaze dropped to the bread bowl, steam rising from the chowder. The corner of her eye twitched.
Was she going to toss it at him?
Joe’s muscles ached from the smile plastered onto his face. “Can we go back upstairs where it’s populated and talk this through?”
“Who are you?” She released the plate they both held with a jerk, and the soup spilled over the edge of the hollowed-out sourdough and ran down the side of the bread bowl.
“My name is Joe McVie. I’m a captain with the US Army, Delta Force.”
She blinked her long, dark lashes rapidly, and her chest rose and fell.
That meant something to her. Good.
“I want to talk to you about Marten de Becker and what just happened on the ferry to Alcatraz.”
“H-he never made it onto the ferry.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and held it up, her hand trembling. “I got a text from him after the accident. Were you on the ferry?”
