Page 51

After Rémy walked me back to my room, I locked myself inside and sat on the bed, pulling my computer into my lap. As bone-weary as I was, I had to keep pushing.

Cody had turned off the Wi-Fi, but the satellite link was still live, and I’d created another access point when I was in the security room earlier.

Using the credentials I’d pilfered, I logged in to the site where the camera feed was hosted, then adjusted the view to show nine cameras at once, covering most of the indoor areas of the boat.

As Laurent had told me, the feed went back only two hours, coming online about fifteen minutes after I’d been thrown off the boat.

I scanned the video feed from that point, watching as Laurent and Evan walked me to the infirmary.

I followed Laurent’s path when he went to get my dress, observed everyone drinking champagne in the lounge while they waited for me, traced each person’s movements as they visited the restroom or had a private conversation away from the others.

But without sound, it was impossible to determine the content of those conversations.

I groaned aloud, rubbing my eyes. I’d hoped I’d find something useful on the camera feed, but it appeared that was not to be.

I was too terrified about becoming the fall girl to stop digging now, but I was hitting a wall.

I reached for the screen, about to close my laptop, when I saw movement at Cody and Jennifer’s door.

I’d left the feed running, and the time stamp in the corner showed that what I was watching now had happened about ten minutes ago.

I squinted at the screen, observing as Jennifer exited her suite, glanced around furtively, and carefully shut the door behind her.

What was she up to?

I followed her path down the spiral staircase to the cabin level I was on now, my heart thumping faster as I observed her move stealthily along the hallway.

A jolt of adrenaline went through me as she placed her hand on the door handle to my room and disappeared into my cabin.

I glanced around. I was alone. Nothing was out of place.

Onscreen my cabin door opened again and Jennifer stepped into the hallway, moving quickly up the stairs and back into her suite.

She’d been in my room less than a minute. Had she taken something? Or left something? Or had she just been snooping, as I had earlier?

I set the computer aside and quickly opened the bedside table drawers, only to find them empty.

Same with the drawers of the bureau; the closet contained nothing more than the dress I’d hung there earlier, the bathroom my toiletries.

My suitcase was just as I’d left it, and when I rifled through it, I found the blackmail note still in the pocket of my jeans and nothing out of place.

What did she want?

Jennifer was the last person I’d expected to have anything to do with Tyson’s death. Not that this meant she did. But clearly she wasn’t as innocent as I’d assumed.

I enlarged the video, capturing it with my phone for good measure as I rewatched Jennifer’s entrance and exit of my room, studying every aspect of the image.

I couldn’t make out her expression, but her hands were empty, and there appeared to be nothing in her pockets either. No indication as to what she was up to.

As I scanned through the feed again looking for some clue, it dawned on me that I’d never seen Allison come back for the envelope she’d stored on the bookshelf shortly before I was pushed.

I zeroed in on the camera that showed that angle of the main deck, but unless Allison had retrieved the envelope before the feed went back online, she hadn’t returned for it. Which meant it might still be there.

Did I dare leave my room alone, after someone had already tried to kill me once tonight?

But I wouldn’t be blind now, I realized. I could view the security cameras on my phone.

Within five minutes I had the camera feed up and running on my phone. It wasn’t as user-friendly as the app that worked with the cameras at Le Rêve, nor was as it as clear as it was on the computer, but I felt a lot safer knowing I’d be able to see if someone was following me.

Currently, it appeared the only people out of their rooms were Laurent, Gisèle, and Samira, whom I could make out chatting in the smoking zone on the sun deck.

My heart racing, I locked my computer and left it on the bed, then palmed my phone, my eyes glued to the live camera feed as I slipped out of my room and darted up the stairs at the end of the hallway to the quiet main deck.

Wasting no time, I went straight to the bookcase, where I located the book with the green door on the front, a retrospective on the style of French country estates.

I had the feeling I was being watched, the hair on the back of my neck rising, my scalp prickling.

But the camera feed was empty, and the yacht was silent, its shadows still as I carried the book past the bar and into the powder room behind the piano area.

I shut myself inside, sat on the closed toilet lid, and opened the pages to the envelope in the center.

Bending back the brad prongs, I lifted the flap and inserted my hand into the envelope, pulling out some kind of medical lab report.

Allison’s name was at the top, with a date in 2018, the year she’d retired from swimming.

She’d been expected to compete in the 2020 Olympics, but she’d surprised everyone by announcing halfway through her 2018 season that she was hanging up her swim cap.

I gathered the report was some sort of blood test, though it contained rows of numbers and letters I didn’t understand.

Regardless, I photographed the pages quickly with my phone, then reinserted them in the envelope, which I put back in the book.

The main deck was fortunately still empty, and I hurried across the room, leaving the book on the shelf exactly where I’d found it.

I wanted to share what I’d learned with Laurent and get his take on it, but I wasn’t sure he wanted anything to do with me anymore.

I felt a stab of contrition, asking myself again whether I should have told him about the boys’ paternity.

But I’d never told anyone other than Rosa and my mom—not even my children themselves—nor had I realized it was pertinent information until I learned that Tyson had included Benji and Alex in his will, which I’d never even considered a possibility.

I hadn’t yet contemplated what Tyson’s shocking generosity would mean for my little family. I’d think about that later. For now, I would take my chances with Laurent and the girls.