Page 42 of Hidden Raphael
He crossed his arms. "You needed to take a swim in the cold Atlantic?"
He might have killed Roger for her. She hadn't asked. She had so many questions, but the first one that came to mind was the vision of the man. "I swear I saw a man dressed all in black more than once out there."
"There is no one here, but we can look together later." He finished and turned back to her, "I've not been on a ghost hunt on this island since I was a boy."
Her mouth fell open. "It couldn't have been a ghost. They don't exist."
"There are questions in life I don't ask." He led her down the hall. "This life matters more. So go upstairs, clean up, get warm, and I'll make us breakfast."
"That's my job," she argued on the first step.
"I'll deduct it from your wages." He shook his head. "Now go. Meet me in the library."
"Can you make hot chocolate?"
He offered her a sight of his dimples. "I can handle that."
She nodded and turned. Halfway up the stairs she tried to remember what she'd seen on the beach. Perhaps she had imagined the man, but she hadn't imagined the glimmer in the cockpit.
Her goal had to be figuring out what happened to her so she had a clear conscious and moved on. This mystery of Roger, what happened to Harry, all had to be solved. Roger might have been politically minded, but why the small plane? Why the pretense? Why did he wait until they were almost in the US? Had that been an oversight on his part? Her questions certainly had nothing to do with ghosts and other imagined spirits.
Raphael was the only thing warm in her life right now.
