Page 26

Chapter 26

Dragging Anchor

Haley

Sam, Zane, and Calvin head down the stairs, taking the back way through the toy hauler space to the engine room, while Easton and I finish cleaning up the back deck. Dante’s singing in the kitchen. I spend a minute leaning up against the doorjamb. Our chef is lost in his happy place. I momentarily think of inviting him on our search but change my mind. Dante’s having too much fun. I pivot back to the stew pantry. Easton is wiping down the plates with a bucket of seawater. We’ll wash them later, using as little fresh water as possible. He’s really focused on it, but it’s obvious by the order he’s doing things he hasn’t washed many dishes in his life. I stay back and watch him.

I’ve thought about how I got Easton out of his room more than once. There’s a bunch of things that bother me about it, starting with why was it only his door that jammed? At first, I thought it was just a coincidence. The longer I mull it over, the more I think maybe it isn’t. I don’t have any family anymore. Just my best friend and a dad who’s barely part of my life. But I’d like to think that if I was stuck in a sinking ship, they wouldn’t listen to a stew who said she was going to get the door open by herself. His dad and Brick didn’t even put up a fight—they just fled to the top side. When I think back on it, I think Emily was pulling on Brick. But if she said anything, I don’t remember what. It’s weird—my adrenaline during that night has made things both clear and blurry. It’s like when I watch true crime shows and a witness says that something absolutely happened that couldn’t have. Like there’s some sort of proof yet they won’t back down. I can totally see how someone could have a false memory placed. There’s no second-guessing though. Easton’s dad didn’t fight to get him out of the room. His focus was on getting Candy out.

Easton tosses a towel on the counter. “I think I’m done until we wash tonight with some hot water. It’s a crazy concept, right? Hot water.”

“Yes! I can’t imagine what taking a hot shower would feel like.”

“Well, we’ll have to conserve water, that’s for sure. I’m willing to share my hot water with you.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.

“I’d like that.”

“Do you want to go down to the primary cabin?”

“Yes. This is going to sound sexist, and I’m sure Sam did a good job searching?—”

“But you think he missed it?”

“No, I’m not saying that, but my ex could look directly at the ketchup bottle in the fridge and still not see it. Not that Sam is anything like my ex.”

“I imagine not. When we get back to Florida, for his own sake, I hope I never meet that sack of shit.”

I smile at Easton, grabbing his arm. There’s a thought I’m not sure about. Would I want the guys to meet Steven? I cling to Easton’s arm. I don’t even realize I’m holding on so tight until he winces. “You know, I think I wouldn’t mind it. Have him see how amazing all of you are.”

“Not as amazing as you are.” He kisses my neck. “Come on, let’s go. It’s only a matter of time before I need to start swabbing the engine room again.” We head down the main staircase to the guest cabins.

Easton’s a few steps down the hallway when I call out to him, “Wait, I want to see something in your room first.”

He pivots back. “What do you want me to show you in my room?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“No, not that. I mean, maybe later.” I give his arm a playful swat. “I want to look at your door.”

“I’ve blocked it open with one of the remaining horse statues I found in the closet.”

“Right, I want to look at the jamb, like, was it made that way? Or did someone change it?”

“You think my door sticking was done deliberately?” His lips twist to the side and back. “It could be.” Easton runs his hand up the inside of the fitting for the door. “Here, look.” He points to a spot and steps out of the way. “Run your hand along it.”

I do, but it feels the same.

“No, higher. There’s a bulge.”

“A tiny bulge like in your pants?” Dante appears beside me.

“Yes, I feel it. A huge massive bulge.” I turn and glare at Dante because if they were all like him, I’d be dead. “No, but seriously. There’s a bump right here.” I take Dante’s hand and put it on the trim.

“Sassy, you’re right.”

Easton shakes his head. “After we search my dad’s room, I’m going to pry the molding off. There’s something under it causing it to bubble out.”

“But that had to have been done at the shipyard. They weren’t putting in moldings on the way to the port to get guests, were they?” I ask. But neither Dante nor Easton would know—they both came on after me. Shayla had gotten stuck in here, as well as Easton once before the night we abandoned ship.

“I know they were chasing issues, but not carpentry. The squirrel deckhand, the one with the hair—what was his name?” Dante slaps his hand on the side of the door.

“Ryder or Waldo?”

“No, Mitch—Waldo—they were like one interesting side character together to me.”

“Dante! Mitch was soft-spoken, with longer hair, and an engineer. Waldo had worked on tugboats.” I put my hand on my hip. There are times that Dante’s chef-ness really comes out. I worked with a chef who called me the short one for a four-month charter. I’m five-ten, but the chief stew was six feet and a former model. I stayed out of the kitchen and off service as much as I could for that season. Housekeeping and the laundry room lacked the drama that the rest of the boat had.

“Damn, Sassy. I don’t know. The one with the pointed nose and the man bun.”

“Mitch.”

“Mitch, then, was grabbing grapes out of the walk-in all the time. He was complaining about having to help Calvin instead of working on deck. I just ignored him, like a squeaky mouse. I’ve got zip empathy for complainers.”

“No,” Easton says in mock shock.

“I heard you’re doing some sort of treasure hunt. I want to help. I’ve got another hour while my secret for tonight does its magic.” Dante winks at me.

“Secret?” Easton scowls. “But Haley knows?”

“Sassy hears all and knows all.” Dante makes a face at Easton.

“You’ll tell me, won’t you, Firefly?” Easton wraps his arm around my shoulder.

“It’s a good one. You’re going to love it. You’ll need to wait for the surprise.” I kiss his thumb. Pizza and some beers really are going to do great things for the guy’s morale. Actually, for my morale too.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go hunting for a fucking diamond. I might have a surprise of my own.” Easton leads me down to the primary suite.

“All right, Rockwell. You better not be talking about your dick,” Dante scoffs.

Easton laughs. “I’m not, but now I wish I was.” He kisses the side of my neck.

The thought of someone running around the ship actively trying to basically kill us all makes my insides quiver, but being with these two lightens my day. My fingers tingle with excitement. When I was little, I wanted to be a detective. That was before I found out how dangerous it was, that plants were a lot safer. Then again, I’ve never done anything with my botany––including finishing my degree.

The doors to the primary suite are closed. They’re double doors for twice the entrance. It feels like yesterday I found Shayla behind them, buried in horse boxes. Crap, thinking about her makes me so worried again. I really want to get home and find her safe. Her and Emily mostly, but everyone. Heck, I even want whoever did this to us to be safe. Mostly so I can see them punished.

I push the doors open. Things are all over the floor. But then this is kind of like how Candy left it any time she waltzed out of the room. Use a towel, drop it. Wear a shirt for an hour and leave it puddled on the bathroom floor. This is worse, though. Everything from the dresser tops has rolled against the starboard wall. The sheets are hanging off the side of the bed, and a bunch of the pillows are still in place, while ten or so others are on the floor. “Right, we need a plan of attack. First, we search the bed, then we can pile things on top of it.”

Dante laughs.

I turn and point at him. “By searching the bed, I mean searching the bed.”

He nods. “Got it. You’re right. This is important.”

We strip the bed, look through the mound of pillows, and even move the mattress off its box spring. Then we search through the ton of clothes on the floor, shaking out each one. Horse sweatshirt after horse bathing suit—I never imagined that there were bras with horses on them, but there are.

“Where was Candy when you told her to drop the bags?” Easton tosses a pair of his father’s pants on the mounded bed.

I triangulate the position. “Between the bed, dresser, and sofa.” The sofa’s a fainting couch. At least, that’s what my old chief stew used to call them, the kind of thing you see in old movies, when people go to see a therapist. “Here.” I stand on the spot. We’ve got everything off the floor and the dresser, and the nightstands are empty too.

Dante moves to me, circles me, and then drops to the floor so suddenly I squeal. He presses his head to the floor, turning it to one side and then the next. Then he rolls a full tumble and does it again. Easton and I are just glaring. “I don’t see anything, Sassy.”

“Well, Sam did a good job. It’s just weird. There was more than one bag. Where did they go?”

Dante rolls the other direction and props himself up on his elbows, his amber eyes glowing at me.

“I guess that’s it.” I peek at Easton, and he drops his hands to his sides.

“Maybe we should check the safe.”

“It’s empty.” I pull out the drawer of the dresser that houses the safe. It’s where Candy had pulled all her jewelry out of when she was panicking after I woke them up.

“Right, that’s the regular safe. My dad had another one built into the room. He told me about it, but I don’t think anyone else knows it exists.” Easton removes the bottom drawer on the other side of the dresser. From the bottom, he lifts off a wooden base. There is the top of another safe. It’s closed, of course, because the drawer and panel are covering it.

Dante rolls to the drawer. “Whoa. But how are you going to get in? You don’t have the key, and there’s no power for the electrical pad.”

“Right. I have the combination if we can get power. I know my dad, though. He’s hidden the key around here somewhere too.”

“Well, it’s not on the floor.” Dante stretches his arms above his head, tilting his head to the ceiling. “But what’s behind the door?” He rolls and stands in one move. For a guy who doesn’t like hiking, he’s physically fit. Dante closes the door closest to the wall. “Damn.”