Chapter Thirty-Eight
Present: Day Five at Sea
“You saw her, and you lied all these years?” Emma sounds wide awake after I finish describing what happened after Beth and I separated from the others.
“Unbelievable. All this time, I’ve been living with so much guilt.
And not knowing how Courtney had seemed to vanish into thin air.
Wondering if she’d still be alive if I hadn’t faked my knee injury, if I’d helped you look for her.
When it’s your fault she’s dead. You lied to the police—to everyone! ”
Beth shines her light on Emma who pushes herself upright in bed. Behind Beth, Russell stands in stoic silence. His expression looks more pensive than grave, even though he must be inwardly seething.
“I didn’t kill her,” I say, even though I’ve never been able to convince myself of my innocence. While I’ve outwardly been living in denial of my role in Courtney’s death, the weight of my guilt has been crushing me like a tidal wave. Emma’s right. It’s my fault Courtney’s dead.
“Not directly.” Beth swings her beam at me. “But you knew that cougar was going for Courtney, and you barely tried to warn her. You could’ve saved her. If you hadn’t run away, she could’ve had a chance. Instead, you left her alone, leaving her for dead.”
Beth’s accusation burns. She’s the only one who knew the truth of that day, and she’s always consoled me over it. Acted like she was protecting me by assuring me she’d never bring it up.
“I—”
“I heard your fight with Courtney the night before outside our tents, just like Emma did. Her threat to your mom. I knew it was you who fought with her.”
I stare at Beth in the darkness, seeing her true self for the first time. She’s been lying our whole lives. I replay her warning, the ominous threat, about overhearing Courtney fight with one of us the night before we lost her in those woods. What if they think it was you?
And all this time Beth knew it was me. She used it against me, making me believe that if I’d told the truth about seeing Courtney—and our fight—that I could be facing manslaughter charges.
That everyone would think I’d left Courtney for dead on purpose.
A familiar weight of guilt crushes my chest. Because that’s exactly what I’d done.
Russell speaks for the first time since my confession. “If a cougar got to Courtney, why didn’t they find her remains?” His flashlight settles on my neck. “Did you hear the attack?”
“No, not exactly.” I think back to those moments after the cougar prowled toward Courtney. “But I heard her scream once. I ran away so fast, toward the river, which would’ve muffled the rest of her screams. Then, I found Beth getting carried downstream and jumped in to help her.”
“It still doesn’t make sense,” Russell adds. “One of you, or all of you, is lying. The dogs tracked Courtney’s scent to the river. It was as if she never got out.”
This had bothered me too. And the fact they never found her remains. But that heavy rainstorm had halted the initial search, and at seventeen, I had no idea how much of Courtney would be left after a savage cougar attack.
“If that’s really what happened, why didn’t you just tell the truth?” Russell’s voice has an edge of accusation in it.
“I . . . I was scared.” After Courtney was never found, I knew I should’ve confessed. But how would it look that I had lied in the first place?
Every time I came close to picking up the phone and telling Courtney’s parents the truth, Beth’s warning rang in my ears. What if they think it was you?
“Scared?” Russell shouts. “Imagine how my sister felt when you left her to be ravaged by a cougar! My—” He huffs out a breath. “She could’ve still been alive for a while. Did you ever think of that? If you’d told the truth right away, the search team might’ve been able to save her.”
“I’m sorry,” I croak.
We came home to a new reality: being sequestered for police interviews, having news vans surrounding our homes, and being stalked by reporters every time we left the house.
Once I realized the gravity of my lie—and that Courtney was never coming back—I knew I was in too deep to revise my statement without looking guilty of murder.
With no body, there was also no way to prove a cougar attacked Courtney. I worried they would think I lied because I killed her, then hid her body. But it’s still no excuse for what I did. And saying any of this to Russell will only make him angrier.
“Sorry? You left my sister for dead and then lied about it! Do you know the hell my parents and I went through? Not knowing what had happened to my sister ate us alive. And because of you, they died without ever knowing the truth.” His voice breaks.
I open my mouth to say I’m sorry again but then close it as a tear slides down my cheek.
The pain in Russell’s voice is so raw. It kills me to think of how selfish I’ve been, choosing my own preservation over Courtney’s life—and the lives of her family.
There’s nothing I can say to make it better. Russell’s right. It’s my fault.
“If what you’re saying is true, then you’re going to pay for this as soon as we get off this boat.” Russell thrusts his finger at me in the glow of the flashlight.
My breath sticks in my lungs. I could go to prison. Not see my girls for years. Just the thought sends a bolt of terror through me. Strangely, it also feels like a ton of bricks has been lifted off my shoulders at confessing what I should’ve confessed twenty years ago.
Russell turns toward Beth before lowering his gaze toward Emma. “But I’m still not one hundred percent convinced that’s what happened.”
The floor tilts, and I fall against the bulkhead as a wave splashes against the hull.
“Maybe it’s a good thing my parents didn’t live to find out that Courtney was mauled to death by a cougar,” Russell says, lifting a hand to his head. “I think I need to lie down, but one of us needs to keep watch for other boats.”
“I’ll go,” Beth volunteers.
Good, I think, relieved to have some distance from her. And Russell. For a few hours, at least.
Emma yawns, and I force myself to focus on helping her rather than the worst thing I’ve ever done.
I shine my phone light on her face. “You need to stay awake and drink some more of this, okay? I’ll get you some more water and a clean blanket.
” Fortunately, her vomit landed all on her comforter and didn’t seem to seep through to the sheets.
“Russell, are there spare blankets onboard?”
“No, but you can use Nojan’s.”
Surprised he’s still speaking to me, I follow him and Beth out of Emma’s stateroom as Russell heads toward his room.
“Beth?” he calls when her flashlight reaches the top deck. “I’m going to try to rest, even though I’m not sure I can sleep. I’ll set an alarm on my watch for four hours. If you have trouble staying awake before then, just come wake me up to relieve you.”
“Okay.”
I avert my eyes, my disgust for her too great to even look in her direction, as I wait for Russell to come out of his room with the blanket for Emma.
A few hours ago, it would’ve seemed unfathomable that Beth would catfish my husband and accuse me of murder.
Has she secretly hated me all these years?
Why bother pretending to be my friend at all?
I grab another bottle of water for Emma from the kitchen.
A minute later, Russell emerges from his stateroom.
In the flashlight glow, his face is grim, almost sinister.
I freeze, suddenly afraid he’s about to kill me.
I step back as my gaze falls to his hands, expecting to see a knife or some other weapon.
Instead, he folds Nojan’s blanket into my arms, laying his flashlight on top.
I gulp down a swallow. “Thanks.” I hear myself say.
He retreats to his room and closes the door, and I wonder how long it will be before he realizes I’ve taken his gun. Emma’s eyes are closed when I return to her room.
“Hey.” I place my hand on her shoulder. “Did you drink the energy drink?”
She opens her eyes. “Half of it.”
“Okay, good.” I hand her the water bottle. “Drink this while I change your bed.”
I roll up the vomit-stained comforter, wrinkling my nose at the smell, before tossing it onto the floor. Although, after fifteen years of nursing, I’ve smelled much worse.
“Emma,” I say as she takes a big drink. “Did you find Courtney’s diary in Russell’s room?”
She’s quiet for a moment, as if debating how to answer.
“Yeah,” she finally says. “I fell asleep before I could finish the whole thing, but I read where Courtney admitted to being the one who spread Gigi’s shirtless photos around school, then I got to the part about the dish soap.
How Courtney did it after you chickened out, then blackmailed you with the photo she’d taken.
It was obvious that Courtney didn’t care about my broken ankle, and she was over the moon about getting to replace me as volleyball captain.
” Emma peers up at me as I spread Nojan’s blanket out over her legs.
“Look, it was twenty years ago. And I know how conniving Courtney could be. I forgive you.”
This is a side of Emma I haven’t seen before, and I wonder how much of it is the painkillers in her system. Nevertheless, I take her hand.
“Thank you. I’m so sorry. You never deserved that.”
“But still,” Emma adds, “I can’t believe you left Courtney to die like that.”