Chapter Twenty-Five
Present: Day Five at Sea
“Watch her head,” I tell Beth when I get to the bottom of the steps, holding Gigi’s lower legs between my arms.
My words are too late. The floor dips when Beth steps onto the top stair. I wince at the sound of Gigi’s head smacking against the companionway wall.
“You got her?” I step backward, keeping hold of Gigi’s long legs as Beth descends the rest of the steps with her arms hooked beneath Gigi’s armpits.
“Yeah,” Beth grunts.
Despite being pudgy in high school, Beth is now much fitter than I am. She started working out regularly after graduation, and unlike me, she never stopped.
Once everyone accepted there was nothing more we could do for Gigi, Emma and Adam went to reattach the boom vang and bring down the rest of the mainsail, tasking Beth and me with untangling the storm jib. But first, Beth and I had argued over what to do with Gigi’s body.
When Beth reaches the cabin floor, I pivot so she can carry Gigi headfirst into Gigi’s stateroom.
“This is going to be even harder if we have to carry her body back up,” I say, already regretting our decision.
“It just doesn’t seem right to stuff her into the bench seats or a compartment on deck.”
“I know.” I lay Gigi’s lower half onto her bed as Beth lays her head to rest on her pillow.
Beth wipes a bead of sweat from her brow.
“But we may not have a choice if she starts to smell.” I already warned Beth about how quickly Gigi’s body would decompose, which was why I thought we should stow her somewhere on deck.
“We’ll be back to the mainland or rescued by then.” Beth tears her watery gaze from Gigi.
I don’t share Beth’s optimism, but I don’t see any point in saying so.
I glance at Gigi’s corpse. Noting my lack of emotion, I worry that something is wrong with me. As a nurse, I’m used to compartmentalizing while I do my job. But this is different. I feel numb, in disbelief that our childhood friend is dead.
“Wait,” I say when Beth backs away from the bed. “Let’s tuck her in so she doesn’t roll off.”
Beth exhales before nodding.
“I’ll turn Gigi on her side while you adjust the bedding.” It’s not my first time moving a dead body, although this is much more difficult than dealing with a stranger. But Beth is visibly more shaken than I am.
“Let’s switch places.” I slide past Beth. When I turn Gigi onto her side, I’m finally hit by a wave of emotion. I tear my eyes away from her pale, lifeless face and try to stay focused on the task of properly storing her body rather than thinking about my beautiful childhood friend being gone.
I see a bulge in the zipped pocket of Gigi’s sweatshirt. I look at Beth as she reaches over and unzips the pocket, taking something out. “Palmer.” She stands, opening what looks like a man’s wallet.
I inhale sharply, recognizing the man’s face on the driver’s license photo. The man in the photo is unmistakably Adam except that his hair is red, not brown.
“His name’s not Adam,” Beth says, staring at the ID. “It’s Russell.”
I flick my gaze to the name, sucking in a breath.
“Russell Vance,” I read aloud.
“He’s Courtney’s older brother.” Beth taps her finger on the license photo.
“No, he can’t be. It has to be a coincidence. Vance is a common name, and . . .”
“Palmer, look at him.”
I do, but I’ve already realized she’s right.
None of us had seen Courtney’s older brother since we were in grade school.
He was seven years older and had been deployed in Iraq through our middle school and high school years.
I recall his hair being a matching shade of red to Courtney’s, just as it was in his license photo.
He must’ve dyed it brown so we wouldn’t recognize him.
But now that I look at him, I can see it.
He even has Courtney’s eyes. “You’re right. ” I cover my mouth with my hand.
“Courtney got the idea for us to go on that rafting trip from him, remember? I saw an old family photo of him in Courtney’s parents’ house once. I thought he looked familiar, too, after you said so, but I couldn’t place it until now.”
I stare at the driver’s license. I should’ve known when I saw his Marine Corps tattoo.
Beth grasps my arm. “Gigi must’ve found this when she was in his stateroom earlier, remember?”
I nod as a myriad of questions flood my mind. What the hell is he doing here? Had he come to avenge his sister’s death? To off us one by one? The boat creaks as we tip to the side. I keep hold of Gigi until we level out.
My eyes widen in the morning light streaming through the window hatch above our heads. “Adam—I mean Russell—and Gigi were arguing about something before the wave hit. I thought they were fighting over how to unjam the mainsail, but what if she confronted him about being Courtney’s brother?”
Beth gasps, lifting her gaze to the boat deck above. She lowers her voice. “He must’ve locked Gigi out on purpose when we all came below.”
I replay the chain of events in my head. Beth was the last one to come down, and Russell was the one who’d shut the door.
“He must be here seeking revenge for Courtney’s death,” Beth continues. “If he wrote that note, he obviously thinks one of us killed her. What if we’re all next?” Her last word comes out louder than the rest.
“Shh!” I warn, raising a finger to my lips. “He’ll hear you.”
“Hey.”
I startle and turn, finding Russell standing in the doorway. “We need some help up top.”
Beth holds up the wallet before I can stop her. I inwardly curse her as she waves it toward Courtney’s brother.
“You lied to us,” she says. “You’re Courtney’s brother. That’s why you can’t sail.”
Russell clenches his jaw, appraising Beth and then me.
“Beth,” I warn.
“Why? Out of some sick revenge for us coming home from that trip without Courtney? We tried to find her! So, what’s next? You’re gonna kill the three of us too?”
I’m vaguely aware of Emma’s bare feet treading down the wood steps as Beth steps toward Russell. I grab Beth’s forearm, envisioning Russell, as muscled as a linebacker, striking her down with a single blow.
“What’s going on?” Emma asks pushing past Russell, looking between him and Beth. “Adam, I still need—”
“His name’s not Adam.” Beth whips around to face Emma. “It’s Russell.” She thrusts the wallet at Emma’s chest. “He’s Courtney’s brother. And now the captain and Gigi are dead.” Beth folds her arms, shooting an icy glare at Russell over her shoulder. “I say we push him out in the dinghy.”
Russell straightens, his pectoral muscles visible through his shirt. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“What?” Emma’s face flushes with anger when she looks up from Russell’s ID.
“Gigi confronted him,” Beth continues. “And he locked her outside.”
“That’s a lie.” His jaw tightens, the muscles rippling beneath his skin as he clenches his teeth.
Emma’s gaze settles on Russell, her expression darkening. “I’ll kill you myself.”
“Stop!” I scream as Emma pummels forward, slamming Russell against the kitchen cabinets.
He grips Emma by the shoulders and pushes her back. “I didn’t kill anyone!” He holds up his palms. “I’m just here for the truth—that’s all I want.” When Emma raises a fist in the air, Russell lifts a forearm in front of his face. “I swear on my sister’s life, okay?”
She keeps her fist raised but makes no move to hit Russell.
He lowers his forearm, keeping a palm in the air.
“After my parents died last year, I had to go through their things before putting their house on the market. I found an old diary of Courtney’s.
I knew my sister could be cruel, and her diary proved it.
” He flexes his jaw and looks between the three of us.
“But it also proved that every one of you who went on that trip with her had a motive to kill her.”
Emma lowers her fist.
“I know that area where you hiked—very well. I went back there after reading in Courtney’s diary about the things she’d done to all of you.
If she really went missing where you said, I don’t understand why her body was never found.
Tracker dogs traced her scent to the river’s edge near where you said you got in the rafts.
The search and rescue teams believed she drowned, likely pinned beneath a logjam in one of the seventy miles before the river hits the Pacific, but I don’t buy it.
Not after reading the things in Courtney’s diary that she’d done to each of you. ”
I look away from Russell, my muscles tensing as my gaze drifts from Emma to Beth, trying to gauge what they’re thinking.
I fold my arms and turn back to Russell. “So, you came on this trip for revenge? Is that why you killed Gigi? And the captain?” Fear explodes in my chest as Russell’s eyes lock with mine. Is he planning to kill us all?
“Yes, I lied about who I was, but I’m not here for revenge. I just want to know what happened to Courtney.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“What about the note from Courtney that Gigi found in the bathroom?” I ask, feeling stupid for believing Courtney could’ve still been alive after all these years, knowing what had happened to her in those woods.
“What note?” Russell asks.
Emma narrows her eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t know. The note accusing one of us of murdering her.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
My eyes meet Beth’s. She looks as unconvinced as I am. He had to have written the note—it makes perfect sense. He was hoping to force a confession out of one of us. I drop my gaze to the floor. Out of me.
Russell’s expression goes hard. “Did one of you murder her?” He looks between the three of us.
My insides scream with guilt the moment Russell’s eyes lock with mine. I feel Beth’s eyes on me too.
“Of course not,” Emma says.
He folds his arms. “Then what really happened that day?”
“We already told the police, and the press, and everyone what happened.” Emma throws up her arm. “How’d you manage to get on this boat?”
Somewhere below, the hull groans. I exhale a silent breath as Russell returns his attention to Emma.
He runs his hand through the top of his hair.
“A month ago, I found out about your trip through Gigi’s Instagram when she posted a photo of this boat docked at the Elliott Bay Marina.
So, I went down there, found Nojan, and told him about Courtney’s disappearance, and paid him to let me replace the first officer on the trip.
I promised not to cause any trouble; I just needed to know what happened to my sister.
And now there are only three options.” Russell closes his palm and holds up one finger.
“Either you all killed Courtney.” Two fingers.
“Or one of you killed her and the rest helped cover it up.” Three fingers.
“Or—” He pauses, looking between the three of us.
“Since there’s a murderer on board, maybe one of you killed Courtney on your own and lied to the others about it.
” He gestures toward Gigi’s stateroom. “And you’re killing again to keep your crime a secret.
” Russell lowers his hand and steps toward Emma.
“I’m going to find out which of those it is. ”
“Why would any of us kill the captain?” I ask him. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
Emma shoots Russell an accusatory look. “Unless it was you. Making sure no one would stand in your way of offing us, one by one.”
Russell shakes his head. “Whoever killed the captain put all our lives in jeopardy. I didn’t come out here to die—or to kill anyone. I just want to learn the truth about my sister.”
Beth scoffs. “You really want us to believe that’s—”
A wave slams against the side of the boat. Beth falls to the floor, landing on the mess of broken dishes, while Russell and Emma are thrown against the galley cabinets. I stumble sideways, slamming into Russell.
I teeter off balance, and he wraps a strong arm around my waist. I envision Gigi’s corpse in the next room and try to pull away, but the motion of the boat keeps me glued against him.
I push off his muscular chest with my palms, but he tightens his hold on my back.
My pulse races as I anticipate his hands moving up to my neck, snapping it while Emma and Beth are distracted by the wave pummeling us.
I’m about to cry out when he loosens his hold.
His hands move to my hips. I sway to the side, my eyes meeting his.
Russell steadies me as water pours in through the broken window before he lets go.
A clunk resounds from inside Gigi’s stateroom.
I cringe, realizing her body must’ve fallen off the bed.
I back away, gripping the countertop beside Emma, hearing myself shriek as I brace for us to tip over for a second time.
Instead, we level out, and the water stops pouring.
I exhale and stand up straight, assessing Russell’s unreadable expression before checking the floor behind me. “Beth? Are you okay?”
Beth nods, getting to her knees beside the couch. “I’m good.”
“Shit,” Emma mutters, pushing off the kitchen cabinets. “I have to get back to the helm. We’ve lost our autopilot, so we’ll need to tie a line to the wheel to maintain our course when no one’s at the helm.”
“I’m going to cover that window.” Russell brushes past me. “Then, I’ll see if I can figure out how to get the power back on.”
Emma casts a glance over her shoulder on her way up the companionway. “I need someone to untangle the storm jib while I steer.”
“I’ll do it.” Beth uses the couch to push herself to her feet.
“I’ll help you,” I say, glancing at Gigi’s stateroom, thinking about her head wound before following Beth up the stairs.
Did she hit her head or had someone struck her while the rest of us went below?
It was dark, chaotic. My mind shifts to the captain’s cut tether line, sliced clean with a knife. That was no accident.
“We’re turning back, right?” Beth asks Emma.
Emma shakes her head on her way to the helm. “First, we have to get out of this storm. Then I’ll head southeast, which should put us on course for southern Oregon or Northern California—south of the storm.”
I turn at the sound of a metallic clank. Russell is on his hands and knees beside an open cabinet, rifling through a small toolbox. “Is there seriously no hammer in here?”
I assess his muscular arms, recalling how I thought he was going to hurt me when I fell against him moments earlier, only for him to help me keep my footing.
He looks up, meeting my gaze. I avert my eyes and continue up the steps, mentally replaying Russell’s story about his sister’s diary. I can’t help but wonder what it said about me, and the others, although I have a good guess.
When I reach the cockpit, Beth hands me a tether line as Emma takes hold of the steering wheel. Russell is either a very good actor or he’s telling the truth. For some reason, my gut wants to believe him. But I can’t allow myself to entertain the implications of his story being true.
Because if Russell isn’t a killer, then who is?