Chapter 5: We Will Take It Out
I kept my breathing slow after Adrian left the cabin. I lay on my side with the phone pressed against my chest, its screen dark against my camisole, and I listened to his footsteps fade into the corridor.
The hallway light stayed on. I could see it through the crack in the doorway, a warm bar across the dark bedroom floor. I didn't move. I counted my breaths the way I'd practiced when I was trying not to cry on the phone. In, four seconds. Out, four. My heart was beating so hard I was sure it would shake the mattress.
Adrian didn't go far. I heard him stop just outside, near the linen closet by the bathroom. Then another pair of footsteps joined him. Rubber soles on teak. Crew shoes.
"She took them?" a man asked. His voice was low, quiet, like he didn't want it to carry over the water.
Adrian's voice was closer, calm in that controlled way he'd used when he handed me the glass. "She has them. Give her twenty minutes. She'll be out."
I pressed my lips together to keep my breath even. The two white pills were still tucked in the seam of the pillowcase behind my head, not in my stomach. My mouth was dry from holding the glass and not swallowing.
The other man shifted. I heard fabric rustle. "Today at 2:00 AM, we will take it out," he said, repeating the line I'd heard Adrian say earlier. But this time he said it like a checklist. "We wait for watch change. No one on deck between two and two-twenty. Easiest window."
Take it out. I'd thought he meant the yacht, or something in the cabin. My stomach dropped when I understood. He meant me.
Adrian confirmed it without raising his voice. "We carry her. Blanket, so it looks like seasickness. If she wakes, she won't walk straight. We'll say she went up for air."
The crew guy made a small sound of agreement. "Weight stays in aft locker. Same blanket you use for sunset. No knots. Just wrap and drop. She hits, she doesn't come up. No witnesses, no struggle."
My hand tightened around the phone under my camisole. The plastic edge dug into my palm. I felt the blood leave my fingers.
"And the story?" the crew guy asked.
"Seasickness," Adrian said. "I gave her medicine, she couldn't sleep, she went on deck for air while I was asleep. Current does the rest. We radio at first light. Every couple has this argument at sea. No one questions it."
That was the glass of water. That was the line, "Drink it, my love, so you can sleep peacefully." Step one. Make me drowsy and unsteady so if anyone found anything, it looked like I'd taken something on my own and wandered out. The camisole, the bare feet, the yacht at night — it would all look like an accident.
The crew guy asked, "You sure two is enough?"
"Two puts her under for four hours," Adrian said. "She's small. She won't feel the carry."
I swallowed hard and kept my eyes half-closed, facing the wall. Tears had dried on my cheek but my eyes were wet again. I didn't wipe them.
They talked about the timing once more. Two o'clock, just after the mid-watch logged the engine check and before the next walk. The blanket already staged near the aft locker. The side gate unlatched now so it wouldn't squeak later. Details spoken like they were planning to unload trash, not a person.
The crew guy lowered his voice even more. "After, I go back to galley. You stay in cabin until morning. Don't check deck. Makes it real when you raise alarm."
"Yes," Adrian said. "Leave the glass on the nightstand. Shows I tried to help."
I heard his watch tick faintly as he moved. Silver watch on his left wrist. I remembered the glint of it when he'd held the water toward me.
My whole body wanted to sit up and run. My legs twitched before I caught them. If I confronted them now they'd know I'd heard everything, and there were two of them between me and the deck. The doorway was still ajar. If either looked in they'd see my chest moving too fast, or the glow of the phone I still hadn't managed to hide completely.
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So I didn't move. I let my head stay heavy on the pillow. I let my breathing stay slow and shallow, the way someone deep asleep breathes. I listened until their footsteps separated — the crew man's going aft, Adrian's turning back toward the cabin.
I tucked the phone deeper under the edge of my camisole, screen against my skin so no light leaked, and kept my eyes closed as the light in the hallway shifted and Adrian's shadow fell across the bedroom floor again. I understood the method now. Not poison. Not a fight. A staged fall at two. And I knew I had to stay awake, stay still, and not let him carry me.
