Page 28 of Fire and Ice Cruise

It’s our first day on land, and the gangway looks like somebody just announced free champagne on the other side of it.

Passengers shove past each other with the desperate energy of people who’ve been trapped on a floating luxury vessel for two days and need to feel solid ground beneath their feet. The crew is doing their best to maintain order, but it’s chaos in the best possible way.

Speaking of getting off the ship, Quinn and Wes escorted Gideon’s body off early this morning. Usually, Ransom handles the dirty deed—he’s got the stomach for it and the FBI training that makes dealing with corpses feel routine—but since he’s been banished from his position, he had first and second breakfast with Bess, Nettie, and me instead.

The three of us are firm believers in loading up on carbs and calories before we leave the Emerald Queen for terra firma. And today’s terra firma happens to involve both a waterfall and a volcanic landscape, so we doubled our usual carb and caloric intake.

We’re talking chocolate croissants the size of dinner plates, blueberry Danish drizzled with cream cheese icing, cinnamon rolls that could double as weapons, eggs Benedict with hollandaise so rich it should require a prescription, Belgian waffles buried under fresh berries and whipped cream, bacon cooked to crispy perfection, and hash browns that were basically little pillows of fried potato heaven.

This ship is foodie-focused, and I’m not apologizing for any of it.

Of course, before breakfast, I wrote in my blog—a quick post about Icelandic landscapes and why murder always seems to happen in the most beautiful places. Then I made mad passionate love to my husband in our cabin while the morning light streamed through the balcony doors. After that, I did a quick sketch of Akureyri from our balcony—the charming town spread out below us with its colorful rooftops and the iconic white church perched on the hill, all surrounded by snow-capped mountains and the impossibly blue fjord. A fjord, for those with questions, is basically a narrow slice of sea wedged between two cliffs that have decided to get dramatic about it.

Then I made mad passionate love to my hot hubby again because, why not? We showered together—which took twice as long as it should have for obvious reasons—and finally stormed the Blue Water Café for sustenance.

Have I mentioned that Ransom is unemployed and spending a lot more time with yours truly? Unemployment can sometimes have the best fringe benefits.

But now we’re disembarking, and all of Akureyri waits for us.

The sky is this gorgeous gray-lavender color, as if someone smudged charcoal and lavender watercolors together and called it a masterpiece. There’s a chill in the air despite it being early spring—sharp and clean and smelling like ocean salt mixed with something crisp and mineral that I can only describe as distinctly Icelandic.

The mountains rise up around the fjord like protective giants, their peaks still dusted with snow, and the town itself sprawls along the waterfront in a riot of brightly painted houses—reds, yellows, blues—as if someone decided color was the antidote to long, dark winters.

The pier is bustling with activity. Tour buses line up like patient elephants, their engines rumbling for all to hear. Tourists flood off cruise ships—ours isn’t the only one in port—and there’s that particular excitement in the air that comes with adventure waiting just beyond the harbor.

“Trixie!”

Elodie’s voice cuts through the crowd, and I turn to see her and Tinsley making their way toward us. Elodie is dressed in designer hiking gear that she probably had couriered to the ship—forest green pants, a fitted puffer vest, expensive sunglasses perched on her blonde bob.

Tinsley is in practical fleece and jeans, her clipboard or electronic notebook nowhere in sight for once. And I’m happy for her because of it.

“We’re headed to Goðafoss with you,” Elodie announces. “I figured if I’m going to freeze my assets off, I might as well do it somewhere social media-worthy.”

“It’s pronounced Go-tha-foss,” Tinsley corrects. “The ‘ð’ is a soft ‘th’ sound. All I know is it’s a waterfall to remember.”

“I’ll pronounce it however I want,” Elodie says with a wink. “Are you ladies ready for waterfalls and volcanic drama?”

“Honey, I was born ready,” Nettie says, adjusting her hot pink parka that’s bright enough to guide the Emerald Queen into just about any harbor at midnight.

We make our way to the tour bus, and I run my eyes over the boarding line, hunting for one crimson head in particular. Marina is already boarding, her crimson hair catching the light like fire as she climbs the steps.

“Oh good.” Relief floods through me. “I really need to talk to Marina,” I say to Bess and Nettie. “I need to clear up the misunderstanding from the bridge. She’s definitely one person on my list of people to talk to today.”

Celeste would be the second. That wily ghost claims to know who the killer is, and I’m determined to shake it out of her, even if I have to risk falling into a volcano to do it.

The bus ride to Goðafoss takes about forty-five minutes, and the landscape transforms from a charming coastal town to an otherworldly beauty. We drive through valleys surrounded by mountains, past farms with adorable Icelandic horses grazing in fields, and the road winds through terrain that looks like it hasn’t changed in thousands of years.

Ransom snuggles up next to me with his hand warm in mine, and Bess and Nettie are in the seats across the aisle, providing running commentary for the rest of the bus to enjoy.

“Look at those horses!” Nettie points with excitement. “They’re so small and fluffy. I want one. Forget that, I need ten!”

I nod up at Ransom. “I’m sort of with Nettie on this.”

He doesn’t look amused.

“Where would you keep a horse on a cruise ship?” Bess is quick to balk at the idea.

“My cabin,” Nettie shoots back. “He could sleep in the bathtub.”