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I emerged from the stairwell to find the sun low in the sky, glinting off the water and bathing the main deck in its golden rays. The soft notes of a melancholy song hung in the air, courtesy of Gisèle, who sat at the baby grand piano, fingers caressing the keys.

Jennifer listened with her eyes closed from a nearby chair while Rémy and Laurent talked in low tones at the bar. Samira sat alone on a couch that looked out toward the shining sea.

I’d just settled onto a divan near the piano when Officers Lambert and Gauthier came down the stairs, followed by Cody and Allison. They hesitated at the base of the stairwell for a moment, listening to Gisèle play until she noticed them and stopped midphrase, leaving the notes ringing.

“Is everyone here?” Lambert asked.

We gathered in the sitting area near the bar, Gisèle coaxing Samira into joining us with an arm around her waist as though she was an invalid. In her long black dress, Samira was a picture-perfect young widow, her shoulders slumped, her face tear-streaked.

But as she collapsed into a chaise longue, pushing her sunglasses up on her head to reveal red-rimmed eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder whether she could possibly be as sad as she appeared to be.

Yes, love was complicated, but her vitriol toward her husband last night had seemed much more deep-seated than a lovers’ spat—not to mention whatever was going on between her and Gisèle.

The officers hovered at the edge of our seating area. “This is everyone from the dive, no?” Lambert asked.

“There were additional Search and Rescue divers with us when we recovered him,” Rémy volunteered.

“We do not need them,” Lambert said. He paused, his piercing eyes lingering on each of us in turn before he finally cleared his throat. “We have reason to believe that Mr. Dale’s death was not an accident.”

A strangled noise escaped Samira’s throat as everyone stared at him, their faces etched with shock. Cody and Allison exchanged a glance. “What do you mean?” Cody asked.

“His death appears to be a homicide.”

“He was…murdered?” Jennifer asked, her eyes wide.

“Mon Dieu,” Samira murmured, dropping her head into her hands. Gisèle scooted closer to her, wrapping an arm around her trembling shoulders.

Looking around, I noticed that the captain was the only representative of the crew, leaning against the bar with his leathery arms crossed over his chest. The rest of the crew seemed to have evaporated—sent away by the police so as not to hear the grisly details of Tyson’s demise, I assumed.

“Why didn’t you tell us this to begin with?” Cody demanded.

“We wanted to be sure before we shared this development with you,” Lambert said.

Gauthier nodded, putting his stamp of approval on this message.

But I knew it wasn’t true. Laurent said they’d known immediately when they found Tyson that he’d been murdered, and if Laurent knew it, surely the police did as well.

No, they were withholding that information in the hope that someone would slip up and give them a lead worth pursuing.

I felt sick, thinking how I might have unwittingly done just that by keeping the blackmail scheme from them. But no one knew about it, except for Cody, who had as much interest in keeping it under wraps as I did.

I thought of the arrest report I’d left on Tyson’s pillow last night.

He’d never see it now, but the police would find it when they searched the house.

Would they know the significance of it? And would they show it to Cody?

Tyson’s duplicity had been spelled out in the small print all along, if Cody had ever cared to look. But clearly he hadn’t.

I’d never really wanted to tell Cody about his brother’s deceit; I’d only planned to use the arrest report as collateral so that Tyson would let me go home unscathed. It would be a cruel twist of fate for Cody to discover the depth of his brother’s deception now that Tyson was dead.

As Lambert went on to describe how Tyson’s oxygen had been turned off, I feigned surprise, scanning the faces of the others in the room for any signs of guilt.

Cody was clearly distraught, while Allison was more stunned; Samira was a wreck; Jennifer and Gisèle were appropriately disturbed and supportive of their significant others; Laurent and Rémy were fittingly resigned.

“But who killed him?” Jennifer asked once Lambert had finished explaining all the things Laurent had already told me.

“That is what we will find out,” Lambert said.

“Did you talk to the developers who—” Cody started.

“They were diving with GoPro cameras mounted to their chests that recorded their entire dive,” Lambert cut him off. “We’ve reviewed the footage, and they are no longer suspects.”

“Wait, you don’t think one of us did it?” Jennifer interjected, her tone incredulous.

“Everyone who was in the water at the time of Mr. Dale’s death today is a suspect,” Lambert confirmed wearily.

Laurent met my eyes as a ripple of dismayed murmurs went around the room.

Cody looked at the captain, the only one in the room not implicated. “Not a word of any of this to the crew,” he said.

The captain nodded.

“We recognize that this is a delicate matter and have agreed not to report the fact of Mr. Dale’s death until tomorrow morning, which will give you time to make your own announcement.

As this is an active murder investigation, we will not disclose any facts about the case, including the manner of death, and we encourage you to keep the details private so that the investigation can proceed without interference from the public. Any questions?”

Everyone just stared at them, dumbfounded.

“You will stay here overnight. Please do not plan to leave St. Barth’s. Our office will be in touch,” Lambert finished, turning to march across the pool deck toward the stern, Gauthier on his heels.

No one spoke until the engine of the police boat fired to life, when finally Allison voiced what we were all thinking. “They think one of us did it,” she said.

Samira lay back on the divan, flinging an arm across her eyes.

“She should eat something,” Gisèle said. “She hasn’t had anything but alcohol since this morning.”

Outside, the sun sank toward the sea, sending amber rays bouncing around the boat, the beautiful, calm evening at odds with the tense mood aboard the yacht.

“Where’s the crew?” Jennifer asked, looking toward the captain.

“We’ve asked them to leave us alone unless summoned so that we can talk freely,” Cody said.

“Dinner will be served on the deck of the game room at seven, which is in thirty minutes,” the captain said. “You can ring me or the kitchen if you need anything before that.”

Nods all around as he took leave of us and disappeared through the crew door.

I caught Laurent’s eye and nodded toward the balcony.

He rose and I followed, joining him by the railing where we’d stood earlier this afternoon before we knew the turn the day would take.

“You have friends on the crew?” I asked, gazing out over the luminescent water toward the boats bobbing on the horizon.

He nodded. “Some.”

“I need to get into the security room so I can tap into the cameras.”

“Why?”

Because while I realized I should probably let the police do their job, I’d seen them fail enough in my line of work that I couldn’t trust them to do that.

What if they got it wrong, and Samira went to jail when Allison had done it?

Or Cody went to jail when Samira had done it?

Or what if they started digging into our past and decided I was to blame? I couldn’t let that happen.

“Because we’re on that suspect list,” I said. “And I have the best chance of anyone of finding out who did this.”

He nodded. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll see what I can do.”