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I stuck the pin into the lock and jimmied it one way, and when that didn’t work, I tried the other way, thanking my aunt for the times she would lock me in my bedroom whenever I acted out. It opened, and as the boat lurched again, I flipped the lid of the trunk open.

Mamá’s journal sat on top of the pile of rolled-up maps.

I would need time to read through every entry, but I didn’t have that luxury. I only had tonight while everyone else fought to keep theElephantinehale during the storm. With that thought, I rushed back to my room. I gathered my purse and bag and then sat directly underneath the window as the sand drove in furious bursts against the glass. If the boat were to capsize, I’d want to be closest to an exit.

It was only then that I began to read.

And it was on the last page when I read the entry that changed everything.

My brother and I can never go back. He’s gone down a road that I will not follow, but I can’t bear to go to the authorities. Oh, but how can I write such a thing? I must! I must! His threats terrify me. The last time we argued, it hurt to pick myself up from the floor. Ricardo said he hadn’t meant to hurt me, but he did.

Even now, I carry the bruises. I can’t ignore the truth.

I fear for my life. I fear for Cayo’s life.

And I don’t know what I should do. He is my brother.

But he is a murderer.

At first, I couldn’t make sense of the sentences. And then each word crystallized, all sharp edges and harsh lines.

Threats.

Bruises.

Murderer.

My mother had been afraid for her life. I unbuttoned the collar of my dress, gasping, struggling to breathe. She had been living interrorof what her brother might do. The despair and desperation etched into every letter brought clarity to my mind. As if the fog had cleared, and I could see what had been hidden from me.

Who had Tío Ricardo killed?

And if he had once, he could again.

All this time, my uncle refused to give me the details surrounding their deaths. And now I finally knew why. The answer had been in front of me all along. Outside the window, the storm raged. A tempest demanding her due. I read the entry again and my vision blurred as I began to listen to what my intuition was frantically trying to tell me. All the clues were there. My uncle hadn’t wanted me in Egypt. He engaged Whit in illegal activities. He refused to tell me what had happened to my parents. My mother’s note to Monsieur Maspero, begging for help. The curious card with the illustration of a gate, with a time, place, and date on the other side. And now the journal entry where my uncle had laid his hands on her. Hard enough to bruise.

The truth was an iron fist around my heart, clenched tight.

My uncle killed my parents.

I had to get off theElephantine.It took me seconds to pack all of my things. Outside my room, the corridor was empty. The crew, my uncle, Whit, and I’m sure Mr. Fincastle were on the upper deck. No one would notice as I carried my small bag to the railing. No one would notice therewas one fewer person on the dahabeeyah. I pulled the door open, looked both ways, and scurried down the narrow hall. Curls of sand slapped my hair, making it gritty and hard. Above, the sounds of people shouting carried over the sharp wind. I made it to the railing, the strap of my bag digging into my palm.

Below, the water churned.

I remembered how the river had swept over my head. Held me in her clutches. With a shaking hand, I reached forward, fear twisting inside me sharply. Indecision hovered close and after one long moment, I let my arm drop.

It was foolish to jump.

My chances of survival were slim. If I stayed on board, my fate was just as murky. I stared into the river deep, fear climbing up my throat. There were crocodiles and snakes, a malevolent current, and blasting winds.

But on theElephantine,a murderer.

I clenched my eyes, breathing fast. I tasted sand between my teeth, and the skirt of my dress whipped around my legs violently. Even if I survived the storm, even if I survived the Nile, what would I do next? How would I continue on to Philae?

My eyes flew open.

The question shocked me. My body wanted to flee the boat, the river, Egypt. And yet there was a part of me that didn’t want to give up on my parents. If I left, I’d never know how they had really died. I’d never know why my uncle had killed them. Reason finally took over, beating back my terror. Until now, my uncle had done nothing to threaten or harm me. At turns courteous, and though he had lost his temper the day he discovered I’d stowed away on theElephantine,he hadn’t struck me.

As long as he knew that I didn’t know the truth, he wouldn’t try anything.