Chapter 6 - Midnight on the Aft Deck
The blackout lasted eleven seconds.
It felt longer.
Emergency lights flashed red through the corridor.
Security agents moved instantly.
Dad grabbed my arm.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“This is not negotiable.”
“It stopped being your decision when someone tried to murder me.”
He looked at me.
For once, there was no time to argue.
Elena's voice came through the radio.
“Power failure isolated to security systems.”
Not an accident.
Someone was still aboard.
Someone who had not been found.
Rowan began laughing inside the interview room.
Dad opened the door.
“Who did this?”
“You really don't understand your own ship, do you?”
An agent restrained him.
Dad leaned closer.
“Who is Mercer?”
Rowan smiled.
“Maybe you should ask your new son-in-law.”
“Lucas?”
“He knows more than he told you.”
Of course he did.
Everyone did.
The emergency system restored power.
But the computer containing preliminary evidence from Vanessa's cabin had been wiped.
Not damaged.
Wiped.
Remotely.
Whoever Mercer was, he still had access.
The Coast Guard moved all detainees onto separate vessels.
Lucas was taken first.
As he passed me in the corridor, his wrists cuffed, he stopped.
An agent pushed him forward.
Lucas looked at me.
His face carried none of the tenderness I once knew.
“You think you've won.”
I stared back.
“You tried to murder me.”
“And yet you're making this about feelings.”
The agent ordered him forward.
Lucas resisted just enough to speak.
“Ask your father who paid for your first apartment in Boston.”
I froze.
“What?”
He smiled.
Then they took him away.
My first apartment?
My father had paid for it.
Hadn't he?
I turned toward Dad.
His expression had gone still.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Don't.”
I stepped closer.
“Don't lie to me again.”
Dad looked tired.
More tired than I had ever seen him.
“Your apartment was purchased through a holding company.”
“So?”
“The holding company wasn't ours.”
My stomach turned.
“Whose was it?”
“We didn't know at the time.”
“And now?”
Dad nodded once.
“Mercer's.”
Silence.
I felt the entire yacht shift beneath my feet.
“How long have they been near me?”
“We don't know.”
“College?”
“Possibly.”
I remembered Gertrude saying Lucas had photographs of me from college.
“Why?”
Dad shook his head.
“That is what I've been trying to understand.”
The answer came from Vanessa.
Not directly.
Federal agents found a handwritten note taped beneath the cot in her hidden cabin.
It contained one sentence.
THE DAUGHTER IS THE LEVER. THE FATHER IS THE VAULT.
Below it was a date.
June 17.
Five days away.
“What happens June seventeenth?” I asked.
Dad stared at the note.
His face changed.
“Board vote.”
Sterling Global's board was voting on a merger.
“With who?”
“Northstar Strategic Holdings.”
“Is Northstar Mercer?”
“We screened them.”
“Apparently not well enough.”
Dad called his legal team immediately.
The merger was suspended within the hour.
By sunrise, the honeymoon yacht had become a floating crime scene.
I was transferred to a Coast Guard cutter for medical evaluation.
Blood tests confirmed multiple sedatives in my system.
The dosage had been dangerous.
Not instantly lethal.
That was deliberate.
Lucas wanted me impaired enough to control.
Not dead before the fall.
Every detail had been calculated.
At eight in the morning, an FBI agent named Rachel Kim sat across from me.
“We need your full statement.”
I gave it.
Every pill.
Every overheard word.
Every threat against my parents.
Every detail about Mercer.
When I finished, Agent Kim closed her notebook.
“There is something you should know.”
“What?”
“Lucas made a statement.”
My heart tightened.
“What did he say?”
“He claims you attempted suicide.”
I laughed.
I couldn't help it.
Agent Kim remained serious.
“He says you've been emotionally unstable since the wedding.”
“Of course he does.”
“He says the medication was prescribed.”
“It wasn't.”
“We know.”
“And the recording?”
“We have enough to contradict much of his story.”
Much.
Not all.
“What about the power of attorney?”
“We're reviewing it.”
“Can he access my trust?”
“No funds have moved.”
Relief.
Then Agent Kim continued.
“But someone attempted to initiate a transfer six hours before the incident.”
My blood went cold.
“Lucas?”
“The credentials came from his device.”
“To where?”
“A trust structure in Liechtenstein.”
“Not Switzerland?”
“No.”
“Who owns it?”
“We're still tracing.”
Mercer.
It had to be.
Then Kim asked:
“Did you know Lucas had been married before?”
I stared.
“No.”
“There is a marriage record from Nevada. Eight years ago.”
“What happened?”
“His wife disappeared.”
My mouth went dry.
“What?”
“Her name was Rebecca Shaw.”
“Disappeared where?”
Kim looked directly at me.
“During a sailing trip.”
I couldn't speak.
“Her body was never recovered.”
The room disappeared around me.
Lucas had done this before.
Maybe.
“Was he investigated?”
“Yes.”
“Charged?”
“No evidence.”
“How much money did he get?”
“Rebecca's estate was worth approximately six million.”
Six million.
Practice.
Had I been his second target?
Or simply his biggest?
“Why didn't a background check find this?”
“Different surname. Different passport history.”
I thought of Vanessa's multiple identities.
Network.
Everything connected.
“Can I see her picture?”
Kim hesitated.
Then slid a tablet across the table.
Rebecca Shaw smiled from an old photograph.
Brown hair.
Green eyes.
About my age.
She looked happy.
Alive.
My chest tightened.
Then I noticed something behind her.
A man.
Partially cropped.
Older.
Silver watch.
I enlarged the image.
Roderick.
Lucas's father had known Rebecca too.
“This wasn't just Lucas.”
“No,” Kim said.
“We don't think it was.”
Another photo appeared.
Rebecca boarding a yacht.
Captain Rowan stood near the gangway.
I stared.
Same captain.
Same family.
Same method.
Eight years earlier.
They had practiced my murder.
And gotten away with it.
I looked at Agent Kim.
“Find Rebecca.”
“We've tried.”
“Try again.”
“She may be dead.”
I looked at the photograph.
Then something about the background caught my attention.
A young female crew member stood behind Rebecca.
Blonde.
Mid-twenties.
I zoomed in.
My heart stopped.
Vanessa Crane.
She had been there too.
“Agent Kim.”
“Yes?”
“Vanessa was on Rebecca's yacht.”
Kim took the tablet.
Her expression hardened.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
Kim motioned for me not to answer.
It stopped.
Then a message arrived.
A photograph.
Rebecca Shaw.
Older.
Alive.
Holding that day's newspaper.
Beneath it:
May you like
STOP DIGGING OR SHE FINALLY DIES.
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