Chương 9
I heard the bolt engage.
Elias looked toward the door.
“Now they know.”
Laurent said, “Yes.”
The bridge phone rang.
Nobody moved.
It rang again.
Then my phone vibrated against my waist.
I pulled it out.
One new message had arrived before Laurent killed the network connection.
It was from my father.
Only four words appeared on the screen.
Do exactly what Laurent says.
For the first time that evening, I nearly cried.
Not because my father had answered.
Because he knew Laurent.
I looked at the captain.
“You and my father have spoken before.”
Laurent’s face gave away nothing.
“Yes.”
“How much before?”
“Enough.”
“That is not an answer.”
“No.”
His refusal irritated me with almost comforting normality.
At least one person in the room was still capable of being difficult for reasons unrelated to murder.
My phone vibrated again.
Another message from my father.
Police notified.
French authorities and maritime coordination aware.
Do not confront anyone.
My thumb hovered over the screen.
Then a third message arrived.
Your mother is safe.
We are not going to Courchevel.
The air left my lungs.
I had not understood until then how much of my terror belonged to my parents.
For several seconds, I could only stare at those words.
My mother safe.
My father safe.
Whatever happened to me next would not erase them too.
Elias leaned toward the phone.
“Good?”
“They saw it.”
“That’s good.”
I nodded.
It was good.
It was also not rescue.
The bridge phone kept ringing.
Laurent finally answered.
“Bridge.”
He listened.
His face hardened.
“Yes, Mr. Delorme.”
Another pause.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“No, your wife is not available to speak privately.”
Florent’s voice rose faintly through the receiver.
Laurent held the handset farther from his ear.
“I understand that you are her husband.”
The voice continued.
Laurent said, “And I am responsible for safety aboard.”
He hung up.
Elias stared at him.
“That went well.”
Laurent ignored him.
The intercom chimed.
A recorded weather alert announced stronger winds within the hour.
The yacht rolled again, more sharply this time.
A pen slid across the console and fell to the floor.
I watched it roll under a cabinet.
The stupid movement steadied me.
Objects still obeyed gravity.
That seemed useful to remember.
“What happens now?” I asked.
Laurent checked the radar.
“We alter course.”
“You said that would alert him.”
“He is already alerted.”
He entered something into the navigation system.
The engine note changed slightly beneath us.
Elias moved to another console.
“Heading?”
“Southwest.”
“Toward the patrol craft?”
“Toward a rendezvous point that keeps us out of the worst of the squall.”
Laurent glanced at me.
“And shortens their arrival.”
“How much?”
“Not enough.”
I hated that answer.
“How long until they reach us?”
“Best case, a little after midnight.”
I looked at the clock.
Seven forty-two.
Still more than four hours.
Too much could happen in four hours.
Too much had already happened in twenty minutes.
The bridge door handle moved.
Once.
Then again.
Someone knocked.
Laurent looked at the camera beside the door.
Florent stood outside with Antoine and Florence.
My new family.
All three.
Florence had changed into a cream cardigan.
She looked as if she were waiting for dessert.
Antoine’s face was flushed.
Florent stood nearest the door.
He knocked again.
“Open it.”
His voice came through the intercom.
Laurent pressed the communication button.
“No.”
Florent looked directly at the camera.
“Captain, this is becoming absurd.”
“I disagree.”
“My wife is sick.”
“She is under observation.”
“By an engineer and a captain?”
Florence leaned toward the speaker.
“Darling, if you can hear me, please come out.”
The sweetness in her voice made my skin crawl.
“You’re frightening everyone.”
Elias muttered, “That’s rich.”
Florent continued.
“No one is keeping you there.”
I walked toward the intercom.
Laurent held out an arm.
I stopped.
He shook his head.
Do not engage.
My father had said the same thing in different words.
Do not confront.
The old version of me would have wanted answers anyway.
Why?
When did it start?
Was any of it real?
But answers given by people trying to kill you were not gifts.
They were tools.
Florent knocked again.
“You cannot lock passengers out of the bridge without cause.”
Laurent said, “I have cause.”
“What cause?”
The captain did not answer.
Antoine stepped forward.
“This yacht belongs to my daughter-in-law’s family.”
Laurent stared at the screen.
“That is correct.”
“Then you have no right to restrain her.”
“I am not restraining her.”
Florence said, “She’s confused.”
Her tone became intimate.
“She’s been confused all day.”
That sentence hit me differently.
Not sick.
Not nauseated.
Confused.
A story was being built already.
If they failed to kill me tonight, perhaps they had another use for the drugs.
Unstable heiress.
Medication problem.
Emotional breakdown.
Anything that made my testimony easier to dismiss.
I looked at Laurent.
“They need me discredited.”
He nodded once.
“I had the same thought.”
Elias said, “Then we should record this.”
Laurent’s expression tightened.
“The bridge system already records operational audio.”
“Can we preserve it?”
“Yes.”
“Do it.”
Laurent looked at him.
Elias shrugged.
“You’re the one who said evidence matters.”
The captain turned to the console and keyed a command.
Florent’s voice came through again.
“Open the door.”
Laurent pressed the intercom.
“Return to the salon.”
“No.”
“Then remain where you are.”
My husband stepped closer to the camera.
His face filled most of the screen.
“Is she accusing me of something?”
Nobody answered.
Florent smiled.
That smile was no longer for me.
It was for whoever might later review the recording.
“I’m concerned my wife is experiencing an adverse reaction to medication.”
Laurent looked at me.
There it was.
The story.
Florent continued.
“She has been nauseated, disoriented, and unusually suspicious since this afternoon.”
Elias whispered, “He’s fast.”
I felt cold.
Florent had switched from husband to witness in under ten minutes.
Florence added, “She barely slept last night.”
May you like
A lie.
I had slept almost twelve hours.
