The Lion's Den(93)

X. Sis



I hit send, log out of my email, and turn off the monitor, then stumble across the shadowy living room, slipping out the side door to the narrow exterior deck. The wind hits me as I open it, and I have to use both hands to keep it from slamming shut behind me. It’s nearing four in the morning, but the skies remain dark and we’re still moving at a steady clip, the boat keeling as she moves through the water. We didn’t even stick around overnight to look for Amythest, which only makes me all the more sure of my theory about her fall. I grab the railing to steady myself and make my way toward the front of the boat, ducking as I pass the windows to Summer and John’s room.

My heart in my throat, I ascend the stairs warily, straining to hear anyone above, but all is quiet. As I emerge onto the deck, my eyes dart from shadow to shadow until I’m satisfied that I’m alone. I steal across the freshly scrubbed and brushed wood planks. I’m grateful that the deck lights are dimmed, but the darkness makes the task at hand more difficult. I kneel by the railing, looking for something, anything that doesn’t fit the story of the accident. The telltale signs are all cleaned up but forever imprinted on my mind: the glittering broken nail, the shards of glass, the horrifying smudge of blood. I fish Amythest’s phone from my pocket and lean out over the railing, shining the flashlight down the side of the boat. Someone has washed the blood away, but a discolored stain remains in its place.

A light goes on somewhere behind me. I freeze.

“What are you doing out here?” Summer calls out.

I switch off the flashlight on Amythest’s phone as I pull myself to standing and activate the video camera. Maybe I’ll get some usable audio. I hit record and stealthily slip the phone into my back pocket as I turn to face her.

Silhouetted in the open doorway, she watches me, her face inscrutable in the darkness. Both of us are still, the sea and sky around us an inky black void.

I release my grip on the railing, edging toward the center of the deck just as the boat pitches forward, throwing me off balance. I scramble to catch my footing, and an overlooked shard of fine glass slices into the soft flesh between my toes. I stumble to my knees.

She laughs.

Fuck. I shouldn’t be here. I’ve made a terrible mistake. I should have stayed in my room and kept my mouth shut like the others.

But I’m through keeping my mouth shut.

Backlit, she is all blond hair and diamonds and glimmering teeth, her eyes in shadow as she advances toward me.

I desperately wish I were wrong about her, that it was only an accident. But the smile that plays around her lips is not one of goodwill. She towers above me, well oiled with power and champagne, a lion considering wounded prey.

And I know I am not wrong.

I extract the bloodied glass from my foot and rise to meet her, grateful for my height. She’s cool, so close I can smell her Chanel No. 5. Adrenaline pumps through my veins.

“What did you do?” I ask.

She feigns innocence, her eyes wide. “It was an accident.”

“You can stop the lies. I know it wasn’t an accident.”

She drops the act. “You’ve always been so unsupportive,” she complains.

“You just fucking killed someone.”

“Me?” She eyes me pointedly.

“The Coast Guard has already come,” I say, reading her implication. “Everyone knows I wasn’t there.”

“Everyone is going to say whatever I tell them to say.” Her smile curdles my blood. “Including the Coast Guard. And so should you, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me, too? Or just set me up, the way you tried to for Eric’s death?”

She smirks. “I was wondering when you’d finally ask me about that. I knew you must’ve paid the parking ticket, but you kept your mouth shut, which at this point makes you an accessory, even if anyone could prove that it was me there in your car.”

“So you did kill him.”

She sighs as though I’m slow on the uptake. “You know I did. You told Amythest.”

The blood freezes in my veins. “What did she say to you?”

“So it’s your fault she’s dead,” she sneers. “And Eric, too.”

My heart hammers erratically in my chest. I feel like I’m going to throw up. Breathe. I can’t let her get into my head. “Why? Why frame me for Eric’s death, when you’d already set it up as a suicide?”

“Always have a backup plan.” She smiles. “And you deserved it.”

“But I was never anything but good to you,” I protest, bewildered.

“Ha!” She snorts. “I read the messages, Belle.”

“What?”

“I have your passcode, you dumb slut. You thought you were being so smart using whatever apps, but I’ve seen them all, read every witty, pretentious line.”

“We were just friends—”

“Oh, come on. You stopped having my back the minute you met him. I saw the way you guys looked at each other and talked over my head, always quoting obscure movies and showing him your stupid plants. He wouldn’t shut up about how you were sooo smart, sooo talented, and such a natural beauty. And then I found the picture in the drawer of his bedside table.”

The wind whips my hair into my face, and I gather it into a ponytail, holding it back with one hand. “What picture?”