The Woman in Cabin 10(71)

They were coming closer. My heart began to race. The pit of my stomach clenched.

A key in the lock . . .

And then the door cracked cautiously open and I pounced.

Her.

She saw me leap towards the gap and tried to close it, but I was too quick for her. I thrust my arm in the gap, and it slammed onto my forearm—hard. I screamed with pain, but the door bounced back, and I was able to wedge half my body into the gap, stabbing at her grappling arm with the jagged edge of the broken tray, but instead of falling backwards as I’d anticipated, she rushed forwards into the room, thumping me back against the plastic wall, the tray cutting painfully into my arm. I pulled myself up, blood dripping down the back of my hand, but she was faster. She lunged at the door, locked it, and then stood with her back to it, the key clenched in her fist.

“Let me go.” It came out like the growl of an animal—not quite human. She shook her head. Her back was to the door, and she had my blood on her face, and she was scared, but kind of exhilarated, too, I could see it in her eyes. She had the upper hand, and she knew it.

“I’ll kill you,” I said. I meant it. I held up the tray, stained with my own blood. “I’ll cut your throat.”

“You couldn’t kill me,” she said, and her voice was just as I remembered it, with a kind of scornful defiance behind her words. “Look at you, you can barely stand up, you poor bitch.”

“Why?” I said, and there was a note in my voice that sounded like a whining little child. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you made us,” she hissed, suddenly furious. “You wouldn’t stop digging, would you? No matter how much I tried to warn you off. If you’d just kept your mouth shut about what you saw in that bloody cabin—”

“What did I see?” I said, but she shook her head, her lip curling.

“God, you must think I’m even dumber than I look. Do you actually want to die?”

I shook my head.

“Good. What do you want, then?”

“I want to get out of here,” I said. I sat down on the bunk abruptly, not sure if my legs would hold me much longer.

She shook her head once more, vehemently this time, and I saw that flicker of fear in her eyes again.

“He’d never let me.”

He? The word sent a prickle through me, the first concrete evidence that someone upstairs had been helping her. Who was he? But I didn’t dare ask, not now. There was something more important I needed first.

“My pills, then. Let me have my pills.”

She looked at me appraisingly.

“The ones you had by the sink? I might be able to do that. Why d’you want them?”

“They’re antidepressants,” I said bitterly. “They have— You shouldn’t withdraw from them too fast.”

“Oh . . .” There was sudden comprehension on her face. “That’s why you look so bad. I couldn’t work it out. I thought I’d hit your head too hard. Okay. I can do that. But you have to promise me something in return.”

“What?”

“No more trying to attack me. These are for good behavior, right?”

“All right.”

She straightened, picked up the plate and bowl, and held out her hand for the shards of tray. I hesitated for a moment and then handed them over.

“I’m going to unlock the door now,” she said. “But don’t do anything stupid. There’s another door outside this one, operated by a code. You won’t get very far. So no silly buggers, all right?”

“All right,” I said reluctantly.

After she’d gone I sat on the bench staring into space, thinking about what she’d said.

He.

She did have an accomplice on board. And that one word meant I could rule out Tina, Chloe, Anne, and two-thirds of the staff.

Who was he? I ticked them off in my head.

Nilsson.

Bullmer.

Cole.

Ben.

And Archer.

In the less-likely column I put Owen White, Alexander, and the crew and stewards.

My mind circled the possibilities, but the one factor I kept coming back to was the spa and the STOP DIGGING message. There was only one man who had been down there, one man who could have written that sign. Ben.

I had to stop focusing on motives. Why was an unsolvable question that I just didn’t have enough information to answer.

But the how—there were very few people on board with the opportunity to write that note. There was one functional entrance into the spa, and Ben was the only male who I was certain had used it.

So many things made sense. His quickness to undermine my story to Nilsson. The fact that he—alone of everyone on board—had tried to get into my cabin on that last night, and knew that I was locked in the bathroom, making it possible to steal my phone.

The fact that his cabin was on the other side of the empty one, yet he’d heard nothing and seen nothing.

The fact that he’d lied about his alibi, playing poker.

And the fact that he had tried so hard to stop me from pushing on with the investigation.

The clicking of the puzzle pieces into place should have given me satisfaction, but they didn’t. Because what use were answers to me down here? I needed to get out.





- CHAPTER 25 -