The Woman in Cabin 10(57)
“Great news,” Ben said. “Is he diverting the boat?”
“I don’t know. He seemed to think it wouldn’t make any difference to divert now, that we’d do better to push on to Trondheim and get there as early as possible tomorrow.”
We had reached our cabins, and I pulled my room key out of my pocket.
“God, I hope this dinner isn’t another eight-course one tonight,” I said wearily as I unlocked and opened my door. “I want to get enough sleep to be coherent for the police in Trondheim tomorrow.
“That’s still your plan, then?” Ben asked. He leaned his hand on the doorframe, effectively preventing me from either leaving or closing the door, though I assumed it wasn’t that calculated.
“Yes. As soon as the boat docks I’m going there.”
“Doesn’t it depend on what the captain says about the boat’s position?”
“Probably. I think Bullmer’s speaking to him about it now. But regardless, I want to get this on record with someone official, even if they can’t investigate.” The sooner my words were down in some official file, the safer I’d feel.
“Fair enough,” Ben said easily. “Well, whatever happens tomorrow, you’ve got a clean slate with the police. Stick to the facts—be clear and unemotional, like you sound like you were with Bullmer. They’ll believe you. You’ve got no reason to lie.” He dropped his arm and took a step back. “You know where I am if you need me, yeah?”
“Yeah.” I gave him a tired smile and was about to shut the door when he put his hand back on the frame so that I couldn’t shut it without trapping his fingers.
“Oh, I nearly forgot,” he said casually. “Did you hear about Cole?”
“His hand?” I’d almost forgotten, but it came back to me now with shocking vividness, the slow drip of blood on to the decking, Chloe’s greenish face. “Poor guy. Will he need stitches?”
“I don’t know, but it’s not just that. He managed to knock his camera into the hot tub at the same time—he’s beside himself, says he can’t understand how he came to leave it so close to the edge.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope. He reckons the lens will be okay, but says the body and the SD card’s f*cked.”
I felt the room shift and move a little, as if everything were going in and out of perspective, and I had a prickling flash of the photo of the girl on the little screen—a photo that was most likely gone forever now.
“Hey,” Ben said with a laugh, “no need to look so doom-laden! He’ll have insurance, I’m sure. It’s just a shame about the shots. He was showing them to us over lunch. He had some great pics, there was a lovely one of you from last night.” He stopped and put out a hand to touch my chin. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I jerked my head away from him and then tried to force a convincing smile. “I’m just—I don’t think I’d go on a cruise again, it’s really not suiting me . . . you know . . . the sea . . . the kind of hemmed-in-ness of it all. I really just want to get to Trondheim now.”
My heart was hammering, and I couldn’t wait for Ben to get his hand off the door and leave. I needed to get my head together—needed to work this out.
“Do you . . . mind?” I nodded at Ben’s hand, still resting on the doorframe, and he gave an easy laugh and straightened up.
“Sure! Sorry, I shouldn’t be gabbing. You probably want to dress for dinner . . . right?”
“Right,” I said. My voice sounded high and false. Ben moved his hand, and I closed the door with an apologetic smile.
When he was gone, I slid the dead bolt across and then I slumped down with my back against the wood, drew my knees up to my chest, and rested my forehead on my knees, a picture, stark in front of my closed lids. It was Chloe, reaching out for her glass of champagne, her arm dripping onto Cole’s camera on the deck below.
There was no way Cole or anyone else could have knocked that camera in. It wasn’t on the rim of the tub. Someone had taken advantage of the kerfuffle surrounding my announcement and the broken glass and had picked it up from the floor and thrown it in. And I had absolutely no way of knowing who that was. It could have happened at any time—even after we’d all left the deck. It could have been almost any of the guests or staff—or even Cole himself.
The room seemed to close around me, stiflingly warm and airless, and I knew I had to get out.
On the veranda the sea mist was still close around the boat, but I took great gulping breaths of the cold air, feeling the freshness fill my lungs, jolting me out of my stupor. I had to think. I felt like I had all the pieces of the puzzle in front of me, that I must be able to put them together if I only tried hard enough. If only my head wasn’t aching so much.
I leaned over the balcony, just as I had the night before, remembering that moment—the sound of the veranda door sliding stealthily back, the huge smacking splash, shocking in the quiet, and the smear of blood across glass, and suddenly I was absolutely and completely certain that I had not imagined it. None of it. Not the mascara. Not the blood. Not the face of the woman in cabin 10. Most of all, I had not imagined her. And for her sake, I could not let this drop. Because I knew what it was like to be her—to wake in the night with someone in your room, to feel that utter helpless certainty that something awful was going to happen, with nothing you could do to prevent it.