The Lido Deck Vanishings
The cruise was free. That should have been the first clue. There was no fine print, no return address on the envelope, and no good reason two American detectives—strangers to each other until they met at the gangway—had each been handed a ticket by someone they barely knew. But the brochure promised a voyage beyond the horizon, and Maddox Cole and Ren Salazar were both tired enough to ignore the part of them trained to ask why.Aboard the Celestine Marigold, the sea is the wrong color. The seagulls loop overhead like a glitch in a recording. The crew never eat, never sleep, and all smile a half-second too late. And every night, someone who sat at dinner simply doesn't come back—their chair left empty, their name quietly erased from the manifest, their face smoothed out of every passenger's memory. Everyone's memory but the detectives'. There's only one rule printed on every ticket aboard, and it's the rule that unravels everything: guests are kindly asked not to count the decks.So they count. And what they find sends them down through the decks that shouldn't exist, chasing a pattern of disappearances toward a truth far stranger than murder—because the ship was never on any ocean, the people it takes are not as gone as they seem, and one of the empty chairs already has Ren Salazar's name on it. To get off, the detectives will have to do the one thing the ship never planned for: spring the trap from the inside. Count the decks. And whatever you do, don't get on board.
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