“Yeah,” Trey agrees. “All clear. No one is here, Charlie.”
I shiver. “I saw something, I swear.”
But did I? She looked soreal, but the characters in my head do too when I write. Sure, I never found a mermaid in my bathtub or anything, but it’s easy for me to imagine things that aren’t physically present.
“What did you see?” Ashley asks, standing near the staircase with her twin, giving me some major side-eye. Despite that, her tone is surprisingly calm and curious. As if realizing she’s forgotten to be antagonistic, Ashley tries again, infusing a bite into her voice this time: “What was it?”
“I-I saw a woman. She was wet. Bedraggled. It looked like she was…drowned, or something.”
Ashley and Rachel both raise their brows, then glance at each other. Rachel’s fingers slip into Ashley’s.
Great. They probably think I’m losing my mind. Hell, maybe I am.
Viv, hovering near Trey, cuts her eyes at Fiona, who is resolutely staring at the floor, and then sighs, turning to me. “It’s been a rough start to your employment.”
“No, listen, someone is here—” I start, but cut myself off. Someoneisn’there, that’s the whole point. After all, no one else appears to be bothered by strange things happening on the yacht. Only me.
“You’re upset,” Trey says gently. “I totally understand. You’re in a stressful situation. But you did good, Charlie! You found us some food.” He nods to the still-open cabinet, stuffed with mac and cheese. The cartoon bunny on the packaging looks normal now. Childish and silly. “Everything will be okay.”
Viv steps close, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Char.” Her voice is sweet, but in a way that hurts my teeth. “You said she looked like she was wet? Like she…had drowned?”
I can’t speak. My tongue is too cold and heavy. Mutely, I nod, but over Viv’s shoulder, I catch Rachel’s dawning look of comprehension.
“And what happened to Sage, Char?” Viv asks, her voice a mimicry of kindness but too syrupy to be genuine.
I want to slap her. But through gritted teeth, I manage, “She drowned.”
Trey and Carl glance at each other. Apparently Viv hadn’t clued our boss in on my past yet.
“That’s right,” Viv continues. Her tone is fully condescending now, but it’s dressed up as compassion. Her lips turn down and her hand finds my back as she starts to rub tight circles into my shoulder. “So maybe you’re having a trauma response, hm? Trey is right. This is a stressful situation.”
“I promise, Charlie, there’s no one else on this boat except for the eight of us,” Trey chimes in.
I hate Viv’s tone, her presumption, but her words hit home. I’ve actively buried all thoughts of Sage and her book for months. Even before she died, it was too painful to linger on the state of things between us. Yet since coming here, I’ve thought about her nonstop. Talked about her, even. Told the truth about what happened. Maybe Viv is right. Maybe this has been too much too soon, and my brain is protesting.
Isawsomeone down here. I smelled her. I heard her bloated feet dragging against the floor. But it wasn’t real.
“None of you have ever seen…anything?” I ask tentatively.
The others shake their heads, some watching me warily, a few looking amused.
Viv’s floral perfume blooms around me as she inches even closer, her palm on my back slowing and stopping. “Char, it’s okay. You were vulnerable with us. And then almost immediately after, you were put in a high-pressuresituationat a brand-newjob.” She jerks her head up, at the sky we can’t see. “It’s stress, sweetie. That’s all.”
She’s right. She has to be. I try not to think about how I started seeing things the minute I stepped onboardEmpress, even before I revealed anything about Sage to the others. After all, what’s more likely? A horrifying ghost is living on this yacht, or I’m hallucinating due to fear or hunger or PTSD?
No. This boat cannot be haunted.
Chapter 16
I slip away downstairs to my room, where the storm is fractionally quieter, grateful the internet is working for now. I collapse on the mattress, swaddled by the fluffy comforter.
When I free my phone from my pocket, I pull out the one I found in the crew cabin too. I forgot to ask the others about the abandoned phone, but now I get an idea. Although much newer and more expensive than my own phone, it’s the same brand, and when I roll over on the mattress, plugging the found phone into my charger, the screen blinks, a lightning bolt icon indicating it’s charging. It’ll be a few minutes before I can turn the phone back on; it was completely dead for a while, so I turn back to my own screen in the meantime.
First, I get online to check out the storm tracking reports. Trey was right; the storm is headed north, dancing along the coast but losing steam as it moves. The news is predicting bad weather for afew days, but nothing that should result in “severe damage or loss of life.”
That’s comforting.
Next, I quickly tap out a text to Emily, updating my sister so she doesn’t worry. She doesn’t respond right away—Emily is often swamped with her family and her remote sales job, but at least she will know I’m all right.
