The Lion's Den(99)

Claire and Wendy look on silently, clearly wishing they were anywhere but here. I take the empty seat next to Claire, and she passes me the basket of pastries with a halfhearted smile.

“So, I’m not leaving today?” I ask, trying to maintain a friendly tone as I butter the croissant I’m not in the least bit hungry for.

“No need,” Summer says. “I think last night put everything into perspective, right? Silly for you to leave two days early and miss the rest of the trip.” She turns her attention to a picturesque arrangement of yellow, pink, and orange homes spilling down a bluff to the turquoise sea. “Oh, look how pretty!”

Wendy listlessly palms her phone and drifts to the railing, snapping pictures of the coastline.

“Let’s take a picture of us,” Summer says, rising to join her at the railing. “Mom, will you take it?”

Rhonda holds the camera with a synthetic smile, and Wendy puts on her happy face to mug with Summer for the picture. Summer must be dead confident there will never be a court case over Amythest’s death, because this cheery photo would be positively damning if there were.

“Now all of us together!” Summer cries.

Brittani and Claire reluctantly get up to flank the two of them, but I hang back. This is all too weird, and no part of me wants to be next to Summer by a railing.

“Come on, Belle! Get in the picture.” Summer waves me over.

I slide in next to Claire, scowling at the camera.

After we’re all seated back at the table, Summer dings her glass with her fork, and everyone gives her their attention. “I am so lucky to have my best friends with me here on the Riviera,” she says, her hand over her heart. “I’m so, so sorry you’ve all had to go through the trauma of last night. But I’ve got another surprise for you all today that I think you’ll really like. So go get ready for our excursion, and I’ll see you back up here at nine so we can go into port.”

Everyone rises and files down the stairs like a good little girl. I trail behind, stuffing the rest of my croissant into my mouth. But before I can reach the stairs, Summer grabs me lightly by the elbow. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Vinny and Bernard watching us as I turn to face her, trying to maintain a calm countenance.

“We’re all good, right?” she says with a guarded smile. It’s a statement, not a question.

I choke on my croissant. “Yeah.” I cough. “All good.”

It seems like the best answer for the circumstance. The circumstance being that I want to make it off this boat alive.

“Good.” She pulls me into a hug.

Once she releases me, I scurry down the stairs straight to Wendy and Claire’s room and knock.

Wendy opens the door a crack and eyes me warily.

I push past her into the room, shutting the door behind me.

Claire is sitting crisscross on the bed, her face puffy. She’s clearly having a much harder time with being an accessory to murder than anyone else.

“Hey, guys?” I say, making sure I have their eyes before continuing. “Whatever happened last night, the truth is going to come out eventually, so you wanna make sure you’re on the right side of it.”

I can almost see Wendy’s anxiety bubbling up between the cracks of her composed facade. “Belle,” she says carefully, “you know how much I love you. But we were there last night. Amythest fell in. That’s it. It was awful, and you’re not making it any better.” So I was right; Wendy has clearly chosen her side. “Right, Claire?”

Tears well in Claire’s eyes as she nods.

“Okay.” I raise both my palms. “I’m just making sure you know you have options.” I look directly at Claire. “I would hate to see you pay for someone else’s crime.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Wendy pats my back, ushering me to the door. “I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, but it was an accident. A terrible, tragic accident. Coast Guard is looking for her. There’s nothing we can do—we have to get ready.”

Well, I tried. I hear the lock click into place behind me. I stand motionless, listening for their voices, but I can’t hear anything.

The boat has docked by the time we meet upstairs. I’m not sure exactly where we are, but it’s a small port with red-roofed buildings perched on green hills that slope down to the inexplicably deserted marina where we’re moored. No colorful umbrellas dot the strip of sand that borders the port. No lively vendors peddle souvenirs. The faded paint on the buildings is peeling, the windows dark or boarded up. The only movement comes from the ravens that circle overhead, calling to one another.

The gangplank is down and the other girls are gathered in the shade of the upper deck, staring out at the forlorn town. I can only assume this is the village John’s acquired, the site of his big new development.

“Good. You’re here; we can go now,” Brittani says as I approach.

Everyone gathers their things, and Vinny leads the way across the gangplank.

The town is situated on an inlet protected from the wind, and while I imagine that the cliffs provide shade earlier or later in the day, the sun is high now and there’s no place to hide from its wrath.

“This place better fucking have air-conditioning,” Brittani gripes to Summer as Vinny helps her down to the brick promenade that rings the harbor.