“I told you not to stay in my room last night.”
So she does remember. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I only stayed to make sure your breathing and pulse rate stayed normal. I meant to sleep on the couch.”
Emma eyes me suspiciously as I lift the mug to my lips and take a sip. I would’ve rather slept next to Gigi’s dead body than Beth. I can’t wait to get off this boat, hold my girls in my arms, and never see my backstabbing “best friend” again.
I remember that Russell’s gun is still under my pillow in the room where Beth is sleeping. I inwardly curse myself for not bringing it into Emma’s cabin. I start to turn for my room when Emma holds out what I was looking for last night.
I instantly recognize the light-purple journal I’d seen Courtney write in nearly every night when I stayed at her house senior year.
Emma sets her jaw in the same way she used to when she stared down our opponents in volleyball. “Why did you rip out the last pages?” She raises her eyebrows. “What did Courtney do to you that you don’t want anyone to know about?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t rip out any pages.” I take the diary from her, surprised by the well of emotions that spring up when I run my thumb over the diary’s faded cover.
“Where was this?” I lift my gaze to Emma’s. “I couldn’t find it last night in your room.”
Emma sets down her coffee. “Well, someone did. Because it was out here on the couch when I woke up this morning.” She folds herarms. “Missing every page after Courtney’s cryptic entry that she wrote in the fall of our senior year.”
“What do you mean cryptic?”
“You’ll see.”
I think back to Beth’s accusations last night in Emma’s room when all four of us were together. Had she taken the diary? Russell didn’t come far enough into Emma’s room to have taken the diary from her bed. Unless he’d taken it earlier. Like after he knocked Emma out by putting Gigi’s opiates in her Gatorade. But why would he go to the trouble of stealing a diary he’d already read?
I stare at the diary as I lower myself to the padded bench of the dinette and wonder what’s in here that Russell—or Beth—wouldn’t want us to see. I flip through the pages, recognizing Courtney’s handwriting in blue ink. It was neat and bubbly, like her personality when she was in a good mood. Just like the note stuck to the bathroom mirror. I swallow, trying to combat the eerie trepidation that washes over me. If someonehadforged it, they’d done an exceptional job.
“Go to the last page,” Emma says.
My coffee churns in my stomach when I get to the last page in the diary. It’s from October 19, 2004. I turn the page to see that the rest of the diary has been ripped out.
“Are you sure these pages weren’t already missing? Maybe it was like this when Russell found it.”
Emma shakes her head. “I’m sure. I didn’t read this far, but I skimmed through to see there was more after this, and the last several pages were blank.”
I flip back to the final diary entry. It’s much shorter than the rest of her diary entries. I stare at the date. I was staying with Courtney at the time. I bite my lip and look up at Emma.
“This was right before we won the state championship.”
She nods.
I lower my gaze to Courtney’s written words, suck in a breath, and start to read.
Chapter Forty-Two
Present: Day Six at Sea
Emma’s eyes are on mine when I set down the diary. “I read this before.” The memory came flooding back to me as soon as I started reading. “When I was staying at Courtney’s house the fall of senior year, I snuck into her room one night.” Looking at Emma, I refrain from telling her why. “And I found this.”
Emma furrowed her brows. “Who was she talking about?”
“I don’t know. When I saw Courtney had written it on the day you broke your ankle, I worried it was you.”
Emma shakes her head. “I broke my ankle on October seventeenth. Two days before she wrote that.” She gestured toward the diary.
I cock my head to the side, straining to remember. I recall feeling sure Courtney wrote that on the day of her “prank.”
“Trust me,” Emma adds. “It’s not something I could forget.”
She’s right. That day had a much bigger impact on Emma’s life than it did mine, which leaves me feeling I have no right to argue. But I remember standing in Courtney’s room, seeing that date in her diary so clearly and being sure it was the day Emma had broken her ankle.Had I been confused?I meet Emma’s gaze.Or is she lying?
