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?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Present: Day Five at Sea
“Nice work,” Emma tells Beth and me from the helm.
The wind whips my hair back from my face as the two of us step off the foredeck between the wheel and the cockpit.
Below deck, Russell is hammering a temporary cover onto the broken window, using a meat-tenderizing mallet from the galley. There was no hammer in the toolbox, making me wonder if the tool was what caused Gigi’s head injury. Her gash wasn’t circular, but she could’ve been struck by the curved two-piece end, whatever that’s called, instead of the head.
Emma would know what it’s called,I think, studying her behind the wheel. A home renovator would be very comfortable using a tool like that. Before I can stop myself, I imagine Emma swinging the sharp end of a hammer at Gigi’s head.
I suppress a shudder and push the thought from my mind as the sun peeks through the clouds above the east horizon. I shade my eyes with my hand as I assess the surrounding seas. In full daylight, the waters appear to be slightly calmer than last night’s violent swells. Hopefully, that means Nojan was right about the storm moving west and that we’re heading away from it.
My gaze travels to the mainsail, which still protrudes a few feet from the boom furler.
I turn to Emma. “Did Russell and Gigi unjam the mainsail?”
Emma shakes her head. “I don’t think so. The winds are too strong to have it up right now, but we’ll need to get it fixed so we can sail back in lighter winds.”
Beth glances in the direction of Russell’s hammering before stepping closer to Emma. “He’s lying about just wanting the truth. He’s here for revenge.” She casts another cursory look behind her as the rhythmic pounding continues. “He’s planning to kill all of us.” Her wary gaze meets mine before she turns to Emma. “One by one. We need to subdue him somehow. If we work together, maybe we can lock him in his room.”
Emma frowns. “You read too many books. You don’t know that for sure.”
“But what about the captain?” I ask, wondering how Emma could so easily dismiss concerns over Courtney’s brother being on board—and two people being dead. “He didn’t cut his own tether.”
“All I’m saying is, what if he’s telling the truth?” Emma asks, verbalizing my earlier suspicions. “I think we should at least consider it.”
Beth recoils as if Emma had struck her. “Meaning what? That one ofuskilled Gigi and the captain?”
Emma turns her pensive gaze toward the horizon. “Maybe Gigi’s death was an accident.”
Beth looks sharply at Emma. “You’ve spent the most time alone with Russell. Up here on the decks while the rest of us were below.” She folds her arms. “I’m surprised he didn’t try to kill you.”
“Maybe he needed me to help sail the boat,” Emma says. “It’s possible Russell heard Gigi confess to pushing Courtney out of their raft. And then he killed her.”
Beth shrugs, keeping her eyes trained on the home renovator. “Or you’ve known who he is this whole time. Your new boyfriend you told Gigi about. And you’re in on this together.”
I stare at my best friend, surprised at her boldness. Although, if there was ever a time to be bold, I suppose it’s now.
“You’ve been violent ever since we were kids,” Beth continues. “Senior year, Courtney showed me a part in her diary that said you were the one who threw that rock through that volleyball referee’s living room window. The one that made that bad call our first game of the season.”
I turn to Emma, whose mouth flies open. Beth had told me this right after Courtney showed her, but Emma’s action didn’t surprise me. Instead, I was more worried about what Courtney might be telling the others about me.
“Yeah, I threw the rock, but it was Courtney’s idea! So what? That doesn’t make me a murderer.” Emma’s cheeks flush as she shoots Beth an icy glare.
Beth raises her dark eyebrows. “Oh, really? Maybe you’re the one who fought with Courtney outside our tents the night before she disappeared. I couldn’t hear everything. But it was nasty, I know that.”
My stomach churns despite the calming seas. I want to correct Beth, but even now I can’t bring myself to. I look to Emma for her response.
