Chapter 4
The hallway hadn't quieted. Even with the bedroom door half-closed, I could still hear them — the four women just outside, laughing now, their voices bright and overlapping the way people get when they've decided something happy has happened and they're going to keep saying it until everyone agrees.
I stood at the foot of the bed in my cream satin sleepwear and pressed my palm flat against the mattress to steady myself. The thin gold chain was still cold against my chest. The ring pendant sat heavy and strange, like it didn't belong to me. Across from me, he hadn't taken his off either. His black button-up shirt was open at the collar and the same chain caught the recessed light.
He ran a hand through his dark wavy hair and looked toward the office door down the hall. "We need to check the lock," he said. "Before they tell the whole boat."
I nodded. I didn't want to walk past the women in the doorway, but there was no other way to the office. When we stepped into the hallway the elderly woman in the beige suit turned first, her double pearl necklace catching the light. She smiled wide now, nothing like the shock from minutes before. The woman in the blue dress and the one in the sparkly sleeveless dress were still beside her, and the younger one in the light blue blazer clasped her hands near her chest like she was holding the moment in place.
"We'll give you two a minute," the elderly woman said.
We didn't answer. We kept walking toward the small office at the end of the yacht's bedroom suite, where the polished wood paneling went darker and the recessed lights made a quiet hum.
The office door was closed. It looked normal. No scratch, no mark. He pulled his key from his pocket and fitted it in. It turned smoothly. Inside, the desk was tidy, the safe built into the wall was shut, the drawer where he'd said the ring had been locked was closed and locked again. Everything was exactly as it should have been if nothing had happened.
The steward knocked lightly and came in behind us. He was a man in his fifties who'd been on board since we sailed, efficient, quiet. He didn't look at the chains around our necks. He looked at the lock.
"You called about the safe?" he asked.
"Not the safe. This drawer," he said. He jiggled the handle. It didn't move. "This was locked last night. Double locked. Office and drawer. I checked at eleven before I came to bed."
The steward crouched and looked at the keyhole, then at the office door's lock. He pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and ran it around the edges. "No forced entry," he said after a second. His voice was even. "No fresh scratches. No splintering on the wood. Tumblers aren't damaged." He stood up. "If someone opened this, they used a key."
I felt my stomach drop a little. I'd hoped he'd say someone had jimmied it, that it could have been anyone.
"Who has a key?" I asked.
He looked at the steward, then at me. "Three copies," he said. "Mine. My grandmother's — " he nodded back toward the hallway where the elderly woman waited — "and the steward's master. No one else. Crew doesn't get office keys overnight unless we hand them out, and we didn't."
The steward nodded. "That's right. I hold the master for maintenance. It stays in my cabin lockbox. I signed it out this morning when you called, that's the first time I've touched it since yesterday evening."
So three keys. All accounted for. All on the yacht.
We walked back toward the bedroom and he checked the bedroom door. He pushed it and it swung easily. He didn't need a key.
I remembered then, suddenly clearly, why. "We left it unlocked," I said quietly. "Last night you said leave it cracked for air. The AC was too warm. You said the hallway vent would help."
He closed his eyes for half a second. "I did."
That meant the office might have needed a key, but the bedroom hadn't. Anyone who got the ring out of the office could have walked right into our cabin after midnight without making a sound. The yacht had been quiet after eleven. I'd heard the water against the hull, the soft creak of the wood, and then nothing until dawn when the gasp woke me.
The steward followed us back into the cabin and checked that door too, the hallway door, the balcony slider. "Same here," he said, running his hand along the latch. "No force. No marks. Whoever came in, came in quiet. Between midnight and dawn, while you were both asleep."
He didn't say it like an accusation. He said it like a fact he was logging.
The celebration was still audible through the wall, the clinking of coffee cups now, someone saying the word engagement too loud and then laughing.
I looked down at the ring on my chest again. The wide gold band with the black enamel stripes. It wasn't scratched either. Neither was his. Whoever had done this had been careful.
So it wasn't a break-in. It was someone already inside. Someone with a key to the office and free access to our bedroom in those dark hours. That left the three key holders, and it left the four women who'd been standing in the doorway at dawn — the only people we knew for certain had been awake, gathered, and ready to look inside.
The steward glanced between us. "You want me to log it as an inside entry with key use?" he asked.
May you like
He hesitated, then nodded. "Log it."
I kept my hand over the pendant without meaning to, my fingers cold against the metal. The pool was suddenly very small, and we were still wearing the evidence.
