Romeo was under a sheet. Even though he was pale, he wasn’t deathly pale, which was a relief. The sheet fluttered with his deep, steady breaths, and she could see the big vein in his neck pulsing rhythmically.
She closed her eyes and thought about what her granny Susan would say at a time like this. That makes me feel better than a hallelujah.
Funny, she’d only ever known her grandmother as a Chicagoan. And it wasn’t until she’d gotten older that she realized all her grandmother’s favorite sayings were a product of her having been born and raised in Nowhere, Alabama.
With her heart feeling tons lighter, Mia turned and nodded to the captain that she was ready. The uniformed officer acted as her escort and Mia was happy for the guidance because she quickly became lost in the ship’s rabbit’s warren of hallways.
Eventually they turned a corner near the back of the vessel—Mia knew they were near the stern because the engine noise was louder than it’d been in the hallway outside the medical bay—and she saw a crew member standing at attention beside a metal door.
The man too young to buy cigarettes much less be in the Coast Guard. But she could tell he took his job very seriously by the way he snapped the captain a fast, stiff salute.
“Seaman Jones will stay at his post outside this door,” Captain Mallory said to Mia. “Don’t hesitate to yell if you need him.”
Mia nodded her thanks. After the captain disappeared around the corner, and after Mia had offered Seaman Jones a wobbly smile, she grabbed the door handle. Then the ship listed sideways.
No, she realized, that’s not the ship. That’s me.
Taking a deep breath, she slowly counted to ten.
Seaman Jones mistook her hesitation for fear and was quick to reassure her, “He’s handcuffed to a table that’s bolted to the floor. He won’t be able to reach you as long as you stay away from him.”
She managed another smile of thanks, which felt no less wobbly than the first one. Stepping into the room, she softly closed the door behind her.
Just as Seaman Jones had said, Carter was handcuffed to a table in the center of the narrow space. He sat in a metal folding chair. Its twin had been placed on the opposite side of the table.
Slowly making her way toward the empty seat, she noted how the overhead light cast the entire room in a harsh white glow that made Carter’s skin look particularly pale. His freckles stood out in contrast. His dark eyebrows were slanted at a menacing angle. And his injured eye and busted nose had both begun to swell.
Has he always looked this mean? she wondered. Or do I just think he looks mean because he blew the plane I was flying in out of the sky?
“Is he alive?” he asked without preamble once she was situated in the chair opposite him. “The guy Robby shot?”
It was beyond strange to be sitting across from someone who’d tried to kill her, especially when that someone shared her blood and had known her since the day she was born.
She was glad her horror didn’t manifest itself in her voice when she said, “Why are you asking? It’s not like you care. You were planning to kill all of us anyway.”
His tone was one of ill-disguised impatience. “I’m asking because attempted murder is better than murder in the first. Florida still has the death penalty, you know.”
“Is that seriously all you wanted to talk to me about?” She knew her expression was incredulous. “Whether or not Romeo is alive?”
“Drop the innocent act, Mia.” His green eyes—so much like her mother’s—became nasty slits. “I know exactly who and what you are.”
“And what am I?” she asked, despite the sinking feeling that whatever he said next would likely crush her already bruised and broken spirit into a million tiny pieces.
“A murderer.” A vein throbbed in his forehead when he snarled the word. “You might not have been the one to hand Andy the razor blade. But you may as well have been. Your mom told me all about the note.”
She flinched at the harsh truth in his words. A truth that’d slowly been killing her for over a decade. Except... “What note?”
Her mind flashed back to the morning after she turned twenty-one, to her parents’ condo and her father telling her Andy had finally succeeded in killing himself...
Her mother’s knees were pulled up to her chest as she rocked at the end of the sofa. Her mascara ran down her face in black rivers. There was such accusation in her eyes when she stared at Mia.
“I don’t understand!” Mia wailed. She thought she’d known heartbreak when Granny Susan died, but nothing had prepared her for the pain of losing her little brother. Losing him and knowing she was ultimately the one to blame. “When I spoke to him on the phone last night, he sounded okay. He said he was desperate to tell me something. But he didn’t sound like—I didn’t think he—” She shook her head and said again, “I don’t understand! Why now?” Through her tears she stared hard at her parents. “Did he leave a note explaining?”
Her mother glanced briefly into the corner where their newest housekeeper stood wringing her hands. When Jane turned back to Mia, her eyes were as dry as a bone and as cold as ice. “There was no note.”
“The note you wrote to Andy the night of your twenty-first birthday.” Carter dragged her from the memory. His stare was openly hostile. “The one telling him he’d been a burden on your family for long enough and that he should finish what he’d started more than a dozen times before.”
His words were so horrific, she physically recoiled.
Her voice shook when she demanded, “How could you ever think I’d do something like that? I loved Andy. He was my responsibility, not just because he was my baby brother, but because it was my fault he suffered so much. I would never hurt him.” She thought back about what had happened the night of her twenty-first birthday, and added quickly, “Not intentionally. Not like you say. And if I could trade places with him right now, I would.”
Carter’s left eye twitched as he stared at her, looking like he was trying to determine the truth in her words. “Why would your mother lie to me about something like that?”
“I have no idea,” she answered honestly.
They both lapsed into silence then, the only sounds in the room were the rhythmic thrum of the Cutter’s big engines and the subtle hiss of the waves rushing by the hull. Then, to her dismay, Carter threw back his head and laughed.
It wasn’t a sound of joy or amusement. It was a sound of defeat.
When he dropped his chin, his expression looked ravaged.