Trey is catching on, though. “Shit. He went under for a bit. Got knocked sideways by a wave. We were nearly to shore, and I helped him. It was no big deal. He was fine.”
I grimace. “Dry drowning.”
“What?”Viv hisses. “Come on, you can’t be serious.”
I shake my head, remembering all the research I did a year and a half ago when I was starting to plotThe Last Time We Drowned, before Sage stole it from me. There’s a pivotal scene near the end of the novel where the Persephone character, Paia, tries to swim back down to the Underworld to return to her love, Hender. He rescues her, brings her back to the surface, but the scene required an investigation into the different kinds of drowning. I wanted to write it accurately.
“It’s really rare,” I explain. “And it mostly happens to children. But it exists. Technically it’s called secondary drowning. It doesn’t develop right away; it can happen a day or two after an incident.”
I didn’t pick up on the signs earlier because I was distracted by all the ghostly sightings and drama and the damn hurricane.
My blood chills as I remember my own incident when swimming with Piper. What if I experience secondary drowning and die too? But no, I have none of the symptoms; I’m being paranoid.
“What is secondary drowning?” Trey asks.
“It’s when you inhale water and it irritates the lungs,” I reply, shivering. “Fluid builds up and causes a pulmonary edema. Same thing mountaineers can get at super high altitudes.”
“But Carl didn’t drown or anything,” Trey protests. “He seemed okay.”
“Even a small amount of water can cause it,” I say, shoulders sagging. Drowning is haunting my life lately. “And most people look and behave fine before having symptoms.”
“Like Carl?” Viv asks.
I nod. “Difficulty breathing, chest pain, coughing, lethargy.”
“This is…this is bullshit!” Trey snaps. “He died because he got a little water in his lungs? What the hell!”
“Like I said, it’s really rare. And we might have caught it if the hurricane didn’t distract us,” I tell him. “Whoever sabotaged the bridge is partly responsible. If we had gotten Carl help in time, he’d still be alive.”
“Then it becomes even more imperative that we find out who messed with the bridge,” Trey determines. “They could be charged for this.”
“Sure,” Viv agrees silkily. She appears unsurprised and unmoved by my explanation, and when she turns to me, faux sympathy is etched on her expression. “But Char, we talked about this before, remember? When you thought you saw a drowned woman in the crew quarters?” She gives Trey a meaningful look. “And now you think Carl drowned too?”
Trey pauses, staring at me. “That’s true…”
“Come on, Trey,” Viv appeals to him. “What’s more likely? That Carl drowned standing upright or that he had some kind of heart issue we didn’t know about?” She glances at me. “Char, I know you mean well, but I think you’re stressed and tired. You’re seeing drowning everywhere.”
“No,” I protest. “This is different!”
But her words are worms that wriggle into my brain, biting away my certainty. Is Viv right? Am I projecting? Seeing drowning deaths all over the boat because of what happened to Sage?
But then I remember Carl’s wet cough and slow, strange behavior. I didn’t make those things up; they happened. I can’t let these two gaslight me into rejecting what the evidence is saying: Carl exhibited symptoms of secondary drowning.
“Listen to me.” I direct my plea to Trey, knowing Viv is a lost cause. “I’m telling you what I saw and what I know. But none of uswill know for sure what happened to Carl until the police take over, so we should proceed cautiously regardless.”
Trey nods, offering a grim smile. “I definitely plan to proceed cautiously.”
Viv huffs. “Okay, well, thanks for theCSI: Drowninglesson, but you should go to your room now, Char.”
“You’re not the police, Vivienne,” I snap. I’m done playing nice with her and her bullshit. “Someonedied. We have to find a way off this stupid yacht and get the authorities involved. You’re not in charge here.”
“No, she’s not. I am,” Trey replies, glancing back down at his dead friend’s body. “But I think Viv is right. We all need to go to our rooms for now. I’m going to come around and question everyone. See if we can pin down who is responsible for the bridge, and then decide our next moves.”
“And we’ll leave him here on the floor, will we?” Piper’s voice comes from behind me.
I jump—I had completely forgotten she was over there, standing by the light switch like a silent statue. “Jesus Christ, you scared me.”
She steps forward, smooth blond hair spread over her tanned shoulders. “Are we sure this death was accidental?” She smiles, and it’s hollow and bitter. “Sure no one else had a hand in this? We were all drinking so much today. Well, last night, I guess. Maybe someone poisoned him.”
