Chapter 6: Commander Reyes
The rattling stopped twenty minutes before the knock I had been waiting for.
I heard it first as a change in the sounds above deck — voices that weren't Lucas or Roderick, a different engine note cutting through the storm, the thud of something heavy being secured against the hull.
My father heard it too.
"They're alongside," he said.
"Stay where you are until you hear the name."
Three minutes later, a knock at my cabin door.
Firm, even, unhurried.
"Mrs.
Hargrove.
This is Commander Reyes, United States Coast Guard.
Your father is on the line with my watch officer.
Please confirm you are unharmed."
I was already at the door.
"I'm unharmed.
Are you alone?"
"Two officers with me.
We have the corridor."
I slid the bolt back and opened the door.
Commander Reyes was a compact woman in her forties with a rain-soaked jacket and an expression that had seen worse than this.
Behind her, two officers in boarding gear stood at either end of the corridor.
Between them, on his knees with his hands visible, was Lucas.
He was looking at me.
Not with anger.
With something that took me a moment to name.
Calculation.
Even now.
Even on his knees in a corridor with Coast Guard officers on both sides, he was still calculating.
"Vivienne," he said.
"Whatever they've told you—"
"Mr.
Hargrove." Reyes's voice didn't rise.
"You've been advised."
He closed his mouth.
Reyes turned back to me.
"We have three individuals detained — your husband, his father, and a woman traveling under a crew credential as Celeste Maurin.
The captain is being held on the bridge pending investigation.
We'll need your statement and the device you used to contact your father." She looked at the communicator in my hand.
"That one."
"There's also a phone," I said.
"Lucas's.
It has message records going back six weeks.
A contact named C — Celeste.
It documents the dosage, the plan, the captain's involvement, and a reference to a previous wife named Petra Voss."
Reyes looked at me steadily.
"Where is the phone?"
I held it out.
She took it with a gloved hand and passed it to the officer behind her without looking away from me.
"Is there anyone else on this vessel you trust?" she asked.
"One of the stewards.
Delia.
She's the one who got me the phone.
She sent copies of the screen photographs to her sister onshore before she knocked on my door."
"We'll need to speak with her." Reyes stepped aside.
"Can you walk?"
"Yes."
"Then let's get you off this vessel."
I stepped into the corridor.
Lucas was still on his knees.
As I passed him, he spoke.
"I never wanted it to go this far." His voice was quiet, almost reasonable.
"You have to believe that, Vivienne.
This was supposed to be clean."
I stopped.
I looked at him — really looked, the way you look at something you are seeing for the last time and want to remember accurately.
"Clean," I said.
He held my gaze.
"I did care for you.
In the beginning."
"Petra Voss," I said.
"Did you care for her too?"
His jaw tightened.
That was all.
That was the only answer he gave me.
I walked past him and followed Commander Reyes toward the deck.
Behind me, I heard Roderick's voice from somewhere further down the corridor, raised and indignant, demanding to speak with an attorney.
I didn't turn around.
The storm was easing.
Through the hatch above the stairs, I could see the running lights of the Coast Guard cutter, steady and orange against the dark water.
My father was still on the line.
I raised the communicator.
"I'm out," I said.
A long breath on the other end.
"I see the cutter from the satellite feed.
May you like
Keep walking."
I kept walking.
