Chapter 6: What He Said in the Corridor
Richard steered me left at the next junction, away from the main staircase, toward a service corridor that ran along the ship's interior.
The footsteps behind us paused.
Then they changed direction.
He knew we'd turned.
"He's still following," I said.
"I know.
Keep moving."
"Richard, I'm seventy-one years old.
I'm not going to outrun him."
"You don't need to." He pushed open a door marked STAFF ONLY and held it for me.
"You just need to get to a room with a camera and a witness."
The service corridor was narrow and fluorescent-lit.
It smelled of cleaning solution and something metallic.
We moved quickly, my hand on the wall for balance, until Richard stopped at a second door and knocked twice.
A young crew member opened it — a woman in her twenties with a security badge clipped to her collar.
"Mr.
Harmon?" She looked surprised.
Then she saw my face.
"Is everything all right?"
"We need to speak with your head of security," Richard said.
"Right now.
It's urgent."
She stepped back and let us in.
The room was small.
A desk, two chairs, a bank of monitors showing corridors and common areas across the ship.
I sat down without being asked.
Richard was still speaking to the crew member when the door opened again.
Gerald walked in.
He looked almost exactly as I remembered.
A little thinner.
His hair fully white now.
But the same eyes — pale, assessing, moving across a room the way a hand moves across a surface, checking for edges.
"Dorothy," he said.
"I thought that was you."
"Gerald."
"What a coincidence."
"Is it."
He smiled.
It didn't reach his eyes.
"I booked this cruise months ago.
I had no idea you'd be on it." He looked at Richard.
"And who's this?"
"A friend," I said.
"How nice." He settled into the doorway like he owned it.
"I've been hoping we might have a chance to talk.
It's been too long."
"Eleven years," I said.
"Exactly.
Family shouldn't let that much time pass." He paused.
"I've been thinking about Thomas lately.
About the estate.
About some questions I never got proper answers to."
"The estate was settled legally."
"Was it?" He tilted his head.
"Because I've spoken to a solicitor recently.
There are some documents from that period that I find rather interesting.
Thomas had assets that were never properly declared.
I think you know that, Dorothy."
My mouth went dry.
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?" He reached into his jacket.
"I have copies."
Richard stepped forward.
"Whatever you're holding, you can present it to the ship's security officer.
Who is on their way right now."
Gerald's hand stopped inside his jacket.
For the first time, the smile faltered.
"I'm not here to cause trouble," he said.
"Then leave," Richard said.
"Right now.
And we'll let the security team decide whether your presence on this ship is a coincidence."
Gerald looked at me for a long moment.
"Think carefully, Dorothy.
I'm offering you a chance to resolve this quietly."
"You broke into my cabin," I said.
"You took photographs of me sleeping.
And you followed me down a corridor on a ship you weren't supposed to be on." My voice was steadier than I felt.
"There is nothing quiet about any of this."
The security officer arrived then.
Two of them.
Gerald put his hands in his pockets and said nothing.
But as they guided him toward the desk, he looked back at me over his shoulder.
May you like
"Ask Claire," he said.
"Ask her what Thomas told her before he died."
