I don't leave my cabin until six o'clock, and even then it's only because I need to show my face at the dinner, and I take my gun just in case something is going on.
The restaurant is full of men of all shapes and sizes. It certainly seems as though the whole ship has turned out for the first dinner on board. It's part of my duties to show my hand at anything I'm told to do, so I soon find myself waiting on the couples as I thought I'd be doing from the moment we decided to take this case. I'm not arguing though, because as dad once told me 'if you want to find something out, work in the kitchen'. So far, however, I haven't heard anything out of the ordinary, although the staff do seem a bit tense, as if something's about to happen. And I have a feeling it's not about the amount of people down here tonight.
As I walk into the kitchen carrying a few of the empty plates, I catch a figure shuffling around in the shadows like a rat, and I pick up a chef knife before walking over to investigate. Immediately the figure begins to walk away towards the door to the walk-in fridge, and I cautiously followed after him, careful to ensure he's in front when I step in after him.
The lighting is better in here, and I can now hear his crazy mutterings as they echo around the small area. He gestures to some upturned fruit crates with his remaining arm - his other just a stump at the top of his shoulder which looks like it was badly stitiched. He obviously didn't go to an expert to get this done, in fact, I would guess he did it himself. He takes a seat on one of the crates himself, and after a second, I hesitantly copy.
"You're here about them disappearances, aren't you?" he asks, watching his hand as it plays with some splintering wood. "I know. I might not leave this place, but Mick knows."
"You're Mick Waters," I say in realisation. "You came here withDaniel a few weeks ago."
"No!" he cries, rocking backwards and forwards. "I knew Danny, but Mick has been here months."
"Your partner came to us just the other day," I explain calmly. "But of course! He must have been paid off to leave you behind." I lean forward on the small makeshift seat. Looking around, I can see two buckets, one full of water, the other ... not. Some food scraps lie on the floor in the corner of the room, so obviously someone knows he's here, keeping him out of the way like an animal. "Other people have been taken," I say slowly, unsure how mentally stable this man is. "Have you seen anything?"
"Mick sees everything and nothing," he replies.
"They've told you to keep quiet," I realise. "But it's okay, Mick. I can get you back to Daniel, but you have to tell me what you've seen."
"Mick see Daniel?"
"That's right," I say gently. He must have been driven insane by having no human contact for so long, plus whatever happened with his arm must have been traumatising. "But you have to tell me where they're taken because I think it's about to happen again." Mick's face lights up, and he stands back up quickly, already walking towards the door. I get up and follow him outside and across the resturant, ignoring the funny looks from the guests as we cut through the tables and towards the exit. Meanwhile, I keep an eye out for dad and John, but they're not here. Neither is Sam or Dean, and I'd expected Cambola down for the first dinner at the very least but he's not there either. I have a very strange feeling this dinner is meant as a distraction to keep the guests - but also, more importantly, me - out of the way. And I don't like the sound of that.