Chương 4
“They’re fine with that.”
Nora glanced toward the sofa.
“They want Ms. Mercer in the forward guest suite with a crew member outside. She’s cooperating.”
“For now.”
“Yes.”
“Did she say anything?”
Nora paused.
“She asked for a lawyer.”
Daniel nodded.
“That’s probably the smartest thing she’s done today.”
Nora did not smile.
“She also said you’re lying.”
Lily looked at her father.
Daniel said nothing.
Nora continued, “She said the transfer on your phone proves it.”
Daniel exhaled.
“Of course she did.”
“What transfer?”
Lily asked.
Daniel closed his eyes.
Nora looked between them.
“I can come back.”
“No,” Daniel said. “It’s all right.”
Lily pointed at him.
“You didn’t tell me that part.”
“I transferred fifty thousand.”
“What happened to two hundred fifty?”
“It was supposed to be the first payment.”
“You said you offered two hundred fifty.”
“I did.”
“But you paid fifty.”
“Yes.”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
“Before she took the flare?”
“Yes.”
Lily’s eyes went toward the deck above them as if she could still hear it hissing.
Nora looked at Daniel with something new in her expression.
Not blame exactly.
Disappointment.
It was difficult to receive disappointment from a twenty-nine-year-old employee on a yacht he did not own, but Daniel managed.
“I thought getting her to agree would keep her calm,” he said.
Nora asked, “Did the captain know?”
“No.”
“Security?”
“No.”
“Anyone?”
“My investigator.”
“Where was Lily?”
Daniel could not answer.
Nora’s jaw tightened.
“She was with me until I went downstairs to help with dinner service.”
“I thought Vivienne was in her cabin.”
“You thought.”
Daniel looked away.
Nora nodded once.
“I’m going to check on the bridge.”
After she left, Lily said, “She’s mad at you.”
“I noticed.”
“Are you mad at her?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s right.”
That answer seemed to matter.
Lily leaned back against the sofa.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Do I have to forgive you?”
He looked at her.
“No.”
“Ever?”
“No.”
She thought about that.
“What if I want to later?”
“Then you can.”
“Okay.”
The yacht reached the harbor after nine.
By then the ocean outside had become a black sheet broken by shore lights, and Lily had fallen asleep with her head against the corner of the sofa despite insisting she would not.
Daniel sat beside her without touching her.
He watched the reflection of passing lights move across the glass and tried not to think about how many times he had mistaken wanting something for knowing it.
When Amelia died, people told him grief came in waves.
That was wrong.
Waves implied rhythm.
Grief was plumbing.
It leaked into places that had nothing to do with the original break.
He had cried once in a hardware store because Amelia used to buy the wrong size batteries.
He had gone six months without crying at all.
He had resented Lily for looking like her mother one morning and hated himself until dinner.
He kept three of Amelia’s dresses in the back of his closet for almost three years because donating them felt obscene. Then one Saturday he drove them to a charity shop, handed the bag to a teenager chewing gum, and spent the next hour furious that the teenager had not understood the importance of what she was holding.
Eleven days ago, Amelia’s face walked into his office.
Some part of him had surrendered immediately.
Harbor Patrol boarded before passengers were allowed off.
Two deputies came into the salon. One spoke to Daniel while the other waited near the corridor. They were calm and irritatingly methodical.
Where had the flare come from?
Who had access?
Had Vivienne touched Lily?
Had Daniel struck Vivienne?
Had anyone consumed alcohol?
Had there been threats before the flare?
Did firearms exist on the vessel?
Daniel answered.
Every answer seemed to create two more questions.
The deputy asked about the money.
Daniel answered that too.
“Why would you pay someone you believed was impersonating your deceased wife?”
“Because I panicked.”
“That’s a lot of money for panic.”
“I can afford expensive panic.”
The deputy looked at him.
Daniel rubbed his face.
“Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me.”
“I know.”
“Did she threaten your daughter before you sent the money?”
“No.”
“Threaten you?”
“Not directly.”
“What does that mean?”
“She said she could destroy my relationship with Lily.”
“How?”
“By telling her what I’d done.”
The deputy glanced toward the sleeping child.
“What had you done?”
Daniel laughed softly.
It sounded terrible.
“Exactly this.”
Vivienne was escorted off the yacht shortly after ten.
She wore the emerald-green satin dress she had boarded in that morning. Her beige heels clicked once on the gangway before an officer told her to slow down.
She turned.
Daniel was standing inside the salon doorway with Lily asleep in his arms.
For a moment Vivienne’s face became Amelia’s again.
Not because the features changed.
Because of the expression.
Amelia used to look at Lily with a quiet ache, as though loving her was almost painful.
Vivienne looked exactly like that.
Daniel’s arms tightened around his daughter.
Vivienne noticed.
Then she said, “Ask him why Amelia was leaving.”
Daniel went cold.
One of the officers touched her elbow.
She did not resist.
“Ask him,” she repeated.
Lily stirred.
Daniel turned away.
At the hotel near the marina, Lily refused the bed.
She slept on the sofa with every lamp turned on.
Daniel sat on the carpet beside her until almost four in the morning.
At some point she woke and asked for cereal.
The hotel did not have cereal.
Daniel offered crackers.
Lily ate six while lying under a blanket and watching a cooking show with the sound off.
Neither of them mentioned Vivienne.
At five fourteen, Daniel’s phone vibrated.
His investigator, Marcus Shaw, had sent three documents and a message.
Found something else. Call when you can.
Daniel stared at the words.
Lily’s eyes were closed again.
He walked into the bathroom and shut the door.
Marcus answered on the second ring.
May you like
“You sound terrible.”
“Good morning to you too.”
