“Wait! Help! You guys, stop.”
I turned, my smile fading when I saw that Gigi was alone in her raft.
“Courtney fell,” Gigi shouted, flailing her paddle to one side, trying to stop. Instead, she continued downstream, spinning in her raft until she was drifting backward. Gigi craned her neck toward Beth and me. “I can’t stop,” she shrieked.
Beth and I held out our paddles on either side of the raft, barely managing to slow down. The river whitecapped around our raft as the current picked up. There was no way we could stop.
I twisted in my seat, looking beyond Beth’s shoulder at the small waterfall behind Gigi as she continued toward us, waiting to see Courtney carried over the edge. But there was only water spilling over the drop.
“Look out!” Beth’s eyes bulged.
I whipped around, following her terrified gaze. We were heading straight for a cluster of sharp broken branches protruding from the river’s surface. I pushed against them with my paddle, and we veered to the right. Behind us, Gigi was still screaming Courtney’s name.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Present: Day Five at Sea
I toss a cursory glance over my shoulder at Beth as I open the door to the stateroom Russell shared with Nojan. Beth nods, her signal that she’ll warn me if Russell comes below. I step inside the small space, leaving the door slightly ajar. The room is similar to Gigi’s but with twin beds.
I blink back the tears that well in my eyes at the thought of Gigi’s beautiful corpse decomposing in the adjacent room. I take a breath and steady myself, focusing on what I’ve come here to find. I don’t have time for grief right now.
The twin beds are neatly made, probably an old habit from Russell’s time in the Marines. Before I met Matt, I’d dated a guy who’d served two years in the army. He couldn’t leave his room in the morning without making his bed.
There’s no luggage in sight, so I open the storage compartment beneath the foot of the beds. Inside I find two duffel bags. I put the larger one on the bed and unzip the top. I sift through the stack of blue polo shirts and khaki shorts. When I pull a stack of clothing onto the bed, something rattles inside the bag. I reach in, feeling the sides until my hand closes around an orange prescription bottle. I hold it up tothe window and see that it’s a cholesterol medication prescribed for Nojan Ahmed.
I stuff the clothes back inside and retrieve the other bag from the storage compartment. Hearing Russell’s footsteps on the deck above, I pause. I wait for a moment, making sure he doesn’t start down the steps, before unzipping his bag.
I search Russell’s bag in the waning daylight coming through the small side window. It’s more organized than Nojan’s. The same blue polo shirts are neatly folded beside a few pairs of cargo shorts and boxer briefs. I place a stack of clothes on the bed, careful to keep them folded, and feel around the bottom.
I have an idea of what Courtney’s diary would’ve said about the others, but what would it have said about me? While Courtney’s phone was never found, her backpack was recovered by divers in the Sol Duc during the search for her body. But Courtney wouldn’t have brought her diary on the rafting trip, would she? No, I think. Even if she had, the river would’ve made her diary entries illegible. The police never brought up Courtney’s diary when they interrogated me.
There’s no way Russell can know about my fight with Courtney the night before she disappeared. Her threat to end Mom’s career and my punching her in the nose. Can he?
Russell can’t know what happened on the trip. Without knowing that, he would have trained his suspicion on Gigi and Emma, as they would’ve seemed to have the strongest motives to want Courtney dead.
I shift the remaining stack of clothes to the side of the bag, finding deodorant and a small toiletry bag, but no diary. I exhale a puff of disappointment. I slide the clothes back to their original spot. With a bag this organized, Russell might notice if something is out of place.
My fingers graze something hard on the bottom of the bag. I close my grip around it. My lungs freeze as I realize what it is. I lift the pistol from the bag by its barrel. My jaw drops as I stare at the weapon in the dimly lit stateroom.Is he planning to shoot the rest of us?
“Hey, Russell,” Beth calls in a raised voice from the galley.
I whip around and see Russell with his back to me, standing at the base of the steps. I curse myself for being too distracted by finding the pistol to hear him come below deck.
“Where’s Palmer?” he asks.
“Oh. She’s in our room, lying down.”
He turns toward his stateroom. I take a step back, but my calves butt against the end of the bed. I scan the small space, but there’s nowhere to hide. My heart beats in my throat as I tuck the pistol into the waistband of my sweatpants like I’ve seen in the movies.
The cabin door flings all the way open before I have time to return Russell’s clothes to his unzipped bag.
He gapes at me in the doorway. “What the hell are you doing?”
There’s just enough light for me to see his eyes narrow when his gaze falls to his bag on the bed.
“I—” The gun is cold against the skin of my lower back as I rack my brain for an excuse. “I was looking for Courtney’s diary. I wanted to see if you were telling the truth.”
He steps toward me, blocking my path to the door. My eyes are level with his muscular chest. My pulse pounds in my ears, knowing how easily he could overpower me and take back his gun. I ready my hand to reach for the pistol if he tries to grab me. If I’m lucky, I can get to it before he can stop me.
