“Oh, God.” Adam hadn’t considered that his first introduction to Elle’s mother might be while he was duded up and stomping around an arena waving a sword. “You never told me why she knew about Gothic.”

“Oh. She always knew she wanted to be an archaeologist, so for her graduation trip, her parents brought her to California to the spot where her great-grandparents disappeared with the Peruvian treasure. They spent a week in Gothic.” Elle shook her head. “She never did explain why she didn’t like the town, though.”

“Maybe simply the loss of family and heritage.” Adam looked out over the ocean toward the horizon. “What have you heard from your contacts on the ship?”

“No one is answering me.”

That brought his attention right to her. “How many people have you emailed?”

“There’s sixty scientists. When we came onboard, they assigned each of us an email address and gave us a directory with those and the pertinent onboard staff: captain, executive officer, doctor. I wasn’t good friends with anybody—”

“How is that possible?” he asked smartly.

Startled, she asked, “What does that mean?”

“You’ve been in Gothic twelve days and you’re everybody’s best friend.” The prow hit the crumbling edge at the cliff top. Adam caught the winch wire and guided the sea-scarred metal onto firm ground. “How could you have been onboard a ship for five weeks and not know everyone’s favorite ice-cream flavor?”

“Oh. That. A couple of reasons. The scientists are competitive in ways I’ve never witnessed before. Every mechanism on the ship is assigned for use every minute of the day, and each person is working their own thesis, theory, experiment. They often have contempt for every science but their own, and to get more time on the equipment, they’re always shoving, usually verbally but sometimes physically.” She smiled to see the prow safe and sound and ignored her own hurt feelings.

“I thought scientists wore pocket-protectors and carried Pentel pencils and calculators everywhere.”

She crossed her arms and glared. “What do you know?”

Adam subdued a grin. “Nothing, obviously.”

“Stereotypes,” she said scornfully. She helped him free the prow and lift it into the back of the pickup, then dusted off her hands. “In my case, I was working on a secret mission, and Penderghast repeatedly warned me not to confide in anyone. On a ship with that many scientists, speculation and gossip is the lifeblood. They’d talk to me, ask questions, I’d brush them off... I got a reputation as being standoffish.”

Adam snorted and finished reeling in the winch.

“To add to the problem, when Stephen was on the ship, he spent most of his time with me. Which created professional jealousy.”

“Because they thought you were lovers?” Adam held the pickup door for her.