Chapter 13: Please Don't Cut Me Off
Wind cut across deck hard. Spray hit my face and stung my eyes. I’d pushed back from Adrian near starboard rail and my back hit cold fiberglass. My knees wouldn’t hold. My left hand clutched black keypad phone, screen still lit, battery down to one bar. Adrian stood three feet away, chest heaving, black shirt soaked dark at shoulders, silver watch catching faint deck light. Accomplice hung back near cabin door, hands empty now, eyes flicking toward water.
I thought bridge radio dead. Adrian had pulled breaker earlier. I’d seen him do it.
Then radio crackled.
Loud burst static from bridge, then clear voice cutting through wind. Not phone. VHF.
“Motor yacht Serenity, motor yacht Serenity, this is Coast Guard Sector, responding to attorney relay, over.”
Spotlight snapped on from darkness off our port side. White beam hit deck, blinded me, lit Adrian’s face stark. Second vessel there, maybe hundred yards out, hull gray, blue flashing light above bridge. It hadn’t been there seconds ago.
Adrian flinched. Beam pinned him. He raised hand against light, turned toward bridge.
“Serenity, hold position, prepare to be hailed, over,” voice said again. Calm, flat, American, professional.
Accomplice took step back toward shadow. Adrian didn’t move at first. Then he had to. He looked at me on deck, then at light, then at bridge doorway where radio kept crackling.
He pushed into bridge to answer. I heard him grab mic.
“Coast Guard, this is Serenity, go ahead,” he said. Voice switched instant. Calm controlled demeanor back, breath even. “We’ve got seasick passenger, minor issue, no assistance needed, over.”
Lies smooth. Same tone he’d used with glass of water. Drink it, my love, so you can sleep peacefully.
I crawled. Hands slipped on wet nonskid. Phone still in palm. Pills still in zip pocket of camisole where I’d hidden them since cabin. Two white scored pills, dry, intact.
Coast Guard voice came back hard. “Serenity, we received distress relay from attorney for passenger Mara Villanueva. Switch to channel one-six and remain on air, do not change course, over.”
Adrian’s grip tightened on mic. “Copy, Coast Guard, but my wife took seasickness medicine, she’s resting, confusion maybe, over.”
I reached bridge threshold. Adrian blocked doorway half, back to me, shoulder blocking mic. Spotlight still swept deck, now fixed on bridge windows. I saw second vessel closer, maybe fifty yards, bow cutting swell.
I didn’t ask. I lunged for radio.
I grabbed his wrist. He tried to hold mic away. Accomplice shouted something from outside but didn’t come in. Adrian’s silver watch pressed against my skin cold. I pulled mic toward my mouth and pressed transmit button. My thumb shook.
Static hissed.
I shouted words I’d whispered hours earlier in cabin, now on open channel.
“Attorney, please don’t cut me off, they plan to hurt me tonight!” My voice broke loud over static. “This is Mara Villanueva on yacht Serenity, he gave me pills to sedate me, two white scored pills, I still have them, they plan to hurt me at two AM, please don’t cut me off!”
Silence half second. Wind howled through doorway.
Coast Guard answered immediate. “Mara Villanueva, we copy you, stay on radio, we have you loud and clear, over.”
Adrian went still. Hand dropped from mic. He stared at me, then at spotlight outside, then back at radio as if calculating how to reel words back. Couldn’t.
I held mic with both hands now, knelt on bridge floor, back against console, phone still pressed against chest under camisole strap where I’d tucked it. I breathed hard, said again, “I have pills as proof, I did not take them, over.”
“Copy, Mara, preserve pills, do not ingest, keep line open,” Coast Guard said. “Serenity, you are ordered to hold position, engines neutral, prepare for boarding, do not attempt to get underway, over.”
Adrian answered slow. “Copy, holding position,” he said. Controlled demeanor cracked at edge.
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Spotlight held us fixed on dark water. Engines throttled down under our feet. Hum dropped. Yacht wallowed in swell, held at sea. Accomplice had gone quiet on deck, hands raised slightly as light found him.
I stayed on floor, mic against my mouth, light on my face, pills hard in pocket, voice finally on record beyond this boat.
