Chapter 2 - THE DEAD CAPTAIN
“Evelyn?”
Flynn said my name like a question.
I swayed against the railing, deliberately letting my knees buckle.
Mara caught me.
“Mrs. Hayes!”
“I heard shouting,” I mumbled.
Flynn’s suspicion softened.
Good.
He stepped over Captain Ward’s body and climbed toward me.
“What are you doing out of bed?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“I gave you enough medication.”
The words were quiet.
Almost inaudible.
But the recorder hidden inside my robe caught every one.
Flynn slipped an arm around my waist.
“You need to lie down.”
“What happened to Captain Ward?”
“Accident.”
Mara’s jaw tightened.
A crewman kneeling beside Ward looked up.
“He has blunt-force trauma.”
Flynn’s father appeared behind him.
Aidan had removed his dinner jacket.
“What happened?”
Flynn didn’t look at him.
“Captain slipped.”
The crewman’s expression said he didn’t believe that for a second.
Neither did I.
Mara gently pulled me from Flynn.
“I’ll take Mrs. Hayes upstairs.”
“No.”
One word.
Too sharp.
Flynn corrected himself.
“I mean, I’ll do it.”
His hand tightened around my waist.
I felt the warning in his fingers.
I leaned against him obediently.
We climbed.
Halfway toward our suite, Flynn whispered, “You really shouldn’t wander around tonight.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You could fall.”
His smile returned.
“Especially with the weather getting rough.”
A coldness settled inside me.
Not fear this time.
Something stronger.
Understanding.
He needed me weak.
He needed me frightened.
Most of all, he needed me predictable.
So I would become exactly what he expected.
I let my feet drag.
By the time we reached our suite, Flynn was practically carrying me.
He placed me on the bed.
“Stay here.”
“I’m thirsty.”
“I’ll get you something.”
“No medicine.”
A pause.
“Of course.”
He kissed my forehead.
Then he locked the suite door from the outside.
I heard the click.
There it was.
The final transformation.
Husband into jailer.
I waited until his footsteps disappeared.
Then I ran to the balcony.
The storm had reached us.
Rain slashed sideways.
The Caribbean that had looked turquoise and peaceful that morning was now black, violent, endless.
Our suite balcony wrapped partially around the starboard side.
Two decks below, maintenance walkways connected sections of the yacht.
I knew the boat better than Flynn believed.
My father had commissioned the Aurora four years earlier.
I had spent summers aboard her.
There was an exterior service ladder fifteen feet from my balcony.
Getting there in calm weather would have been dangerous.
Tonight it looked suicidal.
But the bedroom door was locked.
And the man outside planned to kill me.
I climbed over the balcony rail.
Wind tore at my robe.
The yacht rolled.
I nearly lost my grip.
“Come on,” I whispered to myself.
Rain blinded me.
One hand forward.
Then one foot.
The metal ledge beneath me was barely wider than my shoe.
I moved sideways.
Ten feet.
Twelve.
The boat dropped violently beneath a wave.
My foot slipped.
For one terrible second, my entire body swung over the ocean.
My fingers locked around the railing.
I screamed, but thunder swallowed the sound.
Below me, black water exploded against the hull.
I imagined disappearing into it.
Flynn wouldn’t even have to push me.
I pulled myself back.
By the time I reached the service ladder, my hands were bleeding.
I descended.
At deck five, I crawled through an unlocked maintenance hatch.
Someone grabbed me.
I twisted and nearly screamed.
“Evelyn!”
Alvarez.
The first officer dragged me inside.
Mara stood behind him.
“What happened?”
“Flynn locked me in.”
Alvarez cursed.
He was in his early forties, compact, calm, with the posture of someone who had spent half his life at sea.
“We have bigger problems,” he said.
“Captain Ward?”
“Alive.”
Relief hit me.
“For now.”
“What happened?”
“We found a wrench beside him. Someone hit him.”
“Flynn?”
“No proof.”
“I have Flynn on audio saying he gave me enough medication.”
“That helps, but it’s not murder.”
Mara looked at Alvarez.
“Tell her.”
I hated those words.
“What?”
Alvarez gestured toward a small monitor in the maintenance room.
He had pulled up the yacht navigation system.
“Our course changed thirty-two minutes ago.”
“To where?”
“Nowhere.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“We’ve moved farther away from commercial shipping lanes.”
Flynn wasn’t just waiting for weather.
He was isolating us.
“Can you reverse it?”
“Not without accessing the bridge.”
“Then access the bridge.”
“The security men have it.”
“Why are crew obeying them?”
“Because they claim Captain Ward ordered a lockdown after his accident.”
“And people believe that?”
“They’re armed.”
My stomach dropped.
My father didn’t allow weapons aboard except in controlled security lockers.
Which meant Flynn had brought guns onto the Aurora without our knowledge.
Alvarez leaned closer.
“I tried the emergency beacon.”
“And?”
“Disabled.”
“Satellite?”
“Disabled.”
“Radio?”
“Someone removed the long-range transmitter fuse.”
I laughed once.
A humorless sound.
“This wasn’t planned last week.”
“No,” Alvarez said.
“This took months.”
The room seemed to shrink around me.
Our wedding.
The honeymoon route.
The yacht.
The temporary security.
The medication.
Power of attorney.
My parents’ upcoming mountain trip.
Flynn hadn’t married me and then decided to kill me.
He had married me because he had already decided.
Mara squeezed my hand.
“We can still send a distress signal manually.”
“How?”
“There’s a backup unit inside the tender boat.”
I looked toward Alvarez.
“One of the small launches?”
He nodded.
“Independent emergency radio.”
“Can we reach it?”
“The tender garage is two levels below us.”
“Then let’s go.”
Alvarez stopped me.
“The garage door can only open from the bridge.”
“Wonderful.”
“But the radio doesn’t need the door open.”
“So we transmit from inside.”
“If Flynn hasn’t found it.”
We moved through the crew corridors.
Most passengers never saw this part of luxury yachts.
Narrow white hallways.
Metal doors.
Storage rooms.
Mechanical spaces.
No marble.
No polished walnut.
Just the bones beneath the beauty.
As we descended, I heard voices.
Aidan.
We froze.
He was talking to someone.
A man I didn’t recognize.
“Ward was supposed to be unconscious until after midnight.”
My blood turned cold.
The unknown man answered, “He saw us disabling the secondary transmitter.”
“So you cracked his skull?”
“He reached for the alarm.”
Aidan hissed, “Flynn said no unnecessary bodies.”
“Then Flynn should’ve hired professionals instead of asking me to improvise.”
Mara slowly raised her phone.
Recording.
I stared at her.
Finally.
Evidence.
Aidan continued.
“Everything changes if Evelyn wakes up.”
“She won’t.”
“You sure?”
“We doubled what was in her dinner.”
My fingers curled into fists.
Aidan laughed quietly.
“Poor girl. She never had a chance.”
Mara caught every word.
Then her phone rang.
Not loudly.
One short digital chirp.
But in the silent corridor it sounded like a gunshot.
Aidan stopped talking.
“Who’s there?”
Alvarez grabbed my arm.
“Run.”
We ran.
Footsteps thundered behind us.
We reached the tender garage.
Alvarez punched a code into the door.
Red light.
“Again!” Mara shouted.
He entered it.
Red.
“Code changed.”
The footsteps grew louder.
Mara pointed toward a hatch.
“Storage!”
We climbed inside seconds before two men entered the garage.
Through the narrow ventilation gap, I saw Aidan.
Beside him was one of the temporary guards.
The guard carried a pistol.
Aidan looked around.
“I know someone was here.”
The guard noticed the hatch.
His eyes stopped.
He walked toward us.
Alvarez whispered, “When it opens, stay behind me.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“This is my family.”
“This is my vessel.”
“This is my life.”
The guard reached for the latch.
Suddenly the yacht lurched.
The lights went out.
Total darkness.
Then emergency lights flashed red.
An alarm screamed.
Over the intercom came Flynn’s voice.
“Attention all crew. We have an intruder aboard.”
My jaw dropped.
Intruder?
Flynn continued.
“The individual may be dangerous and may have assaulted Captain Ward.”
Mara whispered, “He’s rewriting the story.”
Then came the sentence that almost made me stop breathing.
“My wife Evelyn is missing from our suite. I believe the intruder may have taken her.”
He wasn’t simply planning my death anymore.
He was building an imaginary killer.
Someone to blame.
Someone the authorities would hunt while Flynn inherited everything.
Aidan and the guard ran from the room.
We stayed hidden.
Alvarez waited thirty seconds.
Then opened the hatch.
“We need that radio.”
He pried open a metal cabinet.
Empty.
“Gone,” Mara whispered.
Flynn had thought of everything.
Almost.
Because when Alvarez slammed the cabinet shut, I noticed a small red case mounted behind it.
“What’s that?”
“Flare kit.”
Inside were six marine flares.
Not communication.
But visibility.
I picked one up.
Alvarez shook his head.
“In this weather, nobody may see it.”
“Somebody might.”
“We’re fifty miles from the nearest route.”
“Then we need to get closer.”
“How?”
I looked toward the ceiling.
“The bridge.”
Mara stared at me.
“It’s guarded.”
“I know.”
“And Flynn will be there.”
“I know.”
“What are you thinking?”
I slipped the flare into my robe.
“For three days, Flynn has believed I’m helpless.”
I looked at both of them.
“Let’s not disappoint him.”
We returned toward the passenger level.
At 10:38 p.m., I stood outside our suite.
Mara unlocked the door with a master key.
I climbed into bed.
Alvarez disappeared toward engineering.
Mara restored the room.
Wet robe hidden.
Sheets arranged.
Lights dimmed.
Then she left.
At 10:51, Flynn entered.
He rushed toward the bed.
“Evelyn!”
I blinked sleepily.
“Why are you yelling?”
He stopped.
For one beautiful second, complete confusion crossed his face.
“Where were you?”
“Here.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I locked the door.”
I shrugged weakly.
“I was asleep.”
His eyes searched the room.
Balcony.
Bathroom.
Closet.
Nothing.
Finally he smiled.
But this time I saw something beneath it.
Fear.
Maybe Prince Charming had finally realized the princess wasn’t as helpless as he thought.
He sat beside me.
“Do you trust me, Evie?”
I looked into the eyes of the man planning to throw me into the sea.
“With my life.”
His smile widened.
“Good.”
At 11:17 p.m., Flynn helped me into a white cashmere coat.
At 11:31, he led me from the suite.
Aidan and Fiona waited near the staircase.
Fiona kissed my cheek.
“Feeling better, darling?”
“A little.”
She looked at Flynn.
A tiny nod passed between them.
My recorder was running.
Somewhere above us, Alvarez was waiting.
Somewhere behind us, Mara was recording.
And hidden beneath my coat was a marine flare.
We climbed toward the aft deck.
Thunder shook the yacht.
Rain hammered the windows.
Flynn opened the exterior door.
Black ocean waited beyond him.
He offered me his hand.
“Come on, sweetheart.”
May you like
I stepped into the storm.
And behind me, I heard the door lock.
