Russell shakes his head. “I don’t have it.”
“Bullshit.” Emma turns to me. “Idon’t have it, which means one of you must.”
“Beth might’ve had it on her when she went overboard,” I said. “I told Beth about it last night and left it hidden under my pillow in our stateroom when I went to bed in your cabin.”
Emma puts her hands on her hips. “Lift up your shirt and turn around.”
“What?”Does she seriously think I killed Beth?
Emma turns to Russell. “You too.”
“I already told you,” Russell says. “I don’t have it.”
“Sorry, but your word’s not good enough.” Emma points to him, then sweeps her finger around to me, ending with it pointed at herself.“There are only three of us left, and one of us is a murderer. And it’s not me.”
“Fine.” Russell steps out from behind the wheel and lifts his shirt to expose his waistband and toned abs.
“Turn around,” Emma says.
He does, and there’s no sign of his gun.
“Now you.”
I frown at Emma’s command but nevertheless comply by lifting my shirt to expose the waist of my sweatpants. I turn around slowly.
“Now you,” Russell says to Emma.
She follows suit, revealing the waist of her skintight leggings which leave nowhere to hide a weapon.
“Satisfied?” Russell asks.
“No.” Emma gestures below deck. “I want to see inside both of your bags. Come on, we’ll go down together.”
I follow her below, even though I still think Beth likely had Russell’s gun when she went overboard. Russell comes down, too, and we start with his room first. After he shows us the full contents of his bag, Emma lifts his bedding, and Nojan’s, before we continue to my cabin.
We repeat the process in my room and then Emma’s without finding the gun. Emma looks relieved, but I don’t feel any better. You don’t need a gun to kill someone on this boat.
Russell returns to the helm when we go back on deck. Emma uncurls a line from a winch and tightens the jib halyard as I scan the seemingly endless ocean that surrounds us. I wonder how far we are from land. My throat tightens as I think of Beth’s body, somewhere in that ocean.
The bloodstained foredeck catches my eye. After tethering myself, I move to the middle of the boat to get a better look. I stop beside the dinghy tied upside down to the deck. With a tight grip on the metal shroud, I study the smeared blood trail that’s at least a few feet long, sure now that Beth is already dead. Possibly before she hit the water.
I steal a glance at Russell and Emma, who are both studying the surrounding waters with grave expressions. I follow their gazes toward the endless seas, wishing there was someone on board I could trust. My throat swells when I think of Beth somewhere out there, and conflicting emotions surge in my chest. My grief feels muddled by Beth’s betrayal, secrets, and accusation.
I look away from the rippling sea to study Courtney’s brother. If Russell killed the others, there’s no way he could be planning to let Emma and me live to tell about it.
I carefully make my way back to the cockpit, keeping one hand on the boat with each unsteady step as we roll over the ocean swells. My eyes lock with Russell’s for a split second when I step onto the cockpit bench. It strikes me that he could’ve made up the whole thing about Courtney catfishing Beth. Although, what reason would he have to lie about it?
Emma tilts her head toward the top of the mast. “If this wind keeps up, it’ll help push us to the mainland faster than I’d hoped.” She lowers her gaze to the water, which seems to stretch forever. “We’re probably doing eight to ten knots, which means we might reach land tomorrow.”
I stare at the blue horizon. “Let’s hope so.”
“I have to use the head,” Emma says before going below, leaving me alone with Russell.
I shoot a wary glance in his direction as Emma disappears below deck, suddenly afraid of what he might do now that we’re alone. But his eyes remain fixed on the surrounding seas, and he doesn’t move from his post.
I sink onto one of the bench seats toward the front of the cockpit, wanting to keep a fair distance from Russell. As I hear the bathroom door close below deck, I consider that he might be telling the truth. If he was here for revenge, then why wouldn’t he have killed Emma and me already? If Emma’s right, we should be close enough to the mainland for him to sail back without help.
I turn to the sound of the toilet flushing below. We’ve been trusting Emma to steer us toward the mainland. But what if she’s not?
