Cassidy Kincaid Mysteries Box Set

pollute the sky, extended all the way to the horizon, winking from all corners of space. The curve of mountain rising up to meet them looked like a black cutout. Waves caressing the shore made the perfect soundtrack to the night.
“How long are you in Costa Rica?” Benita asked.
“I’ll head back after this trip,” she said, wishing she had left the table earlier. She knew where this was going.
“Do you work, or are you one of those trust funders?” Benita asked.
Cassidy laughed a little. “I work.” She thought of her seismic stations up on the mountain. “I’m a volcano seismologist,” she said. “I do research on Arenal.”
Benita raised an eyebrow. “Should we be worried?” she said with a smirk.
Cassidy tried to play along, but she got this question from ignorant people all the time. “Not worried.” She paused. “Prepared? Always.”
“Huh,” Benita replied, giving her a shrewd look.
“I study a certain kind of seismic signal to see if it can help forecast the timing of eruptions, and if it indicates anything about the size.”
“So is it gonna blow, or not?” Benita asked.
“No,” Cassidy said. “At least, not today. Probably not tomorrow, either.”
Benita laughed.
“What do you do?” Cassidy asked. Jillian and Libby’s conversation was getting heated down at the end of the table.
“I’m a lawyer,” Benita replied. She nodded at the ring that Cassidy was unconsciously spinning around her finger. “You married?”
Cassidy almost choked on her own spit. Before she could answer, Jillian’s voice cut in:
“I’m not blind,” she said to Libby, her voice sharp. “I know it’s her,” she added.
“How can you be sure?” Libby answered. “This is your marriage we’re talking about here. Think it through.”
“I have thought it through,” Jillian replied, her voice trembling. “That fucker,” she said, and broke down.
Benita slid over to Jillian and the three of them huddled together, Benita speaking in quiet tones while Libby held her. Jillian began to sob.
Cassidy carefully detached her sticky thighs from the bench seat and slipped through the side door, glad to drift away. Whatever drama going on was none of her business. Besides, it gave her an escape from talking about Pete.
She didn’t want to go to bed yet. The rooms were deep below decks and even with the air conditioning, the cramped space didn’t exactly exude relaxation. Bruce was in the wheelhouse, which also served as his bedroom with a tidy bed built into the corner.
He popped his head out of the doorway. “Settling in?”
“This is a pretty nice boat,” she said.
“Thank you,” he said with a small bow. He rubbed his hand over the top of the dashboard, as if stroking a beloved pet.
“Where are we going tomorrow?”
“A little secret spot off the tip of the peninsula, la Punta Pirata. This will be a good swell for it. From there we’ll do a night cruise, and you’ll wake up in Nicaragua.”
“So you’ll stay awake all night?” she asked, imagining him at the helm with only the stars to keep him company.
He shrugged. “I’ll rest up at Pirate’s and again at Rosie’s.”
“When will we get to San Juan?”
“Tuesday night,” he replied. “Then we’ll return to Cocoa Beach Wednesday night.”
Cassidy nodded. “Can I see Reeve’s cabin?” she asked, suddenly curious.
Bruce rose. “Sure,” he said, and led her down the steep ladder to the galley. The bunkrooms were located in the stern, past the kitchen and the tiny head. Jesus was drying dishes, his forehead beaded with sweat.
“Podemos ver tu cabaña?” Bruce asked.
Jesus looked a little puzzled but nodded, extending his hand as if to say, “be my guest.”
They opened a narrow door under the stairs that revealed a closet-sized room with a sloping roof. A bunk was built into the wall, with what looked like storage space beneath. A tiny overhead light shone above the narrow bunk, which was made up with crisp blue sheets, the top folded over and the pillow fluffed. Hanging across the ceiling was a mesh hammock containing a worn backpack and a small guitar-shaped case.
Cassidy looked to Bruce for permission, and stepped inside. Reeve had been here, slept here, then one day never returned.
“Did he take his things with him?” she asked suddenly, eyeing the hammock.
“He hadn’t brought much, but yeah, it was gone.”
“You checked?” Her eyes went to the cubby space beneath the bunk.
Bruce nodded.
“What about the video equipment, the camera?”
“That’s all mine. He left it, thank God. That stuff’s expensive.”
She pictured Reeve hunched over a screen, editing images until late into the night. “Did he work in here?” she asked.
“Sometimes,” Bruce replied, his face pensive. “It sort of depended on what the day was like. He cooked, too, so he fit in the editing when he could.”
Cassidy gave the room one more look. She didn’t feel anything, or get any kind of sense that he had been there. It was a disappointment, though the idea that she would have felt anything was ridiculous.
There was a whoop from above and then the sound of splashing.
Cassidy stepped back into the galley. Through the windows above the counters, she saw a pair of bare legs standing on the side of the boat. Then the legs leapt into space, followed by a splash. Another set of legs appeared and then went over the side.
“Midnight swim?” Jesus said in careful English, his weathered face cracking into a smile.
Cassidy climbed the ladder to the back deck, where Libby was climbing to the roof.
“Leave it to Libby to show us her balls,” Benita said, as Libby leapt clear of the rails and cannonballed into the water—a good twenty feet down.
The group was swimming to the back of the boat when Marissa spotted Cassidy, standing at the doorway from the dining area.
“C’mon!” Marissa shouted, the bright glow of her yellow bikini shimmering below the surface.
“Yeah, jump in!” Taylor had been swimming back but was now treading water, waiting for her. “It feels sooo good.”
Cassidy looked at Bruce, who was perched one ladder rung below the deck level. “You comin’?” she asked.
He shook his head.
Her bikini beneath her clothes was