Chapter 6 - ELEVEN THIRTY
It was 11:17 p.m.
Thirteen minutes before whatever Gregory’s family had planned.
Ortiz ordered officers posted outside Elaine’s cabin.
Then she contacted the bridge.
Every exterior camera covering my original cabin and the surrounding decks was flagged for immediate preservation.
At 11:21, the burner phone vibrated again.
M had sent another message.
MOVE TO PHASE TWO.
Ortiz looked at me.
“Do not respond.”
I agreed.
Then another message arrived.
I’M COMING UP.
Ortiz’s face changed.
She called the bridge.
“Lock down Deck Eight access points.”
Within seconds, security officers began checking stairwells and elevators.
At 11:24, a camera captured a man leaving an elevator at the opposite end of the deck.
Gray suit.
Baseball cap.
Broad shoulders.
Elaine saw the freeze-frame and stopped breathing.
“Martin.”
Gregory’s father was aboard.
The passenger manifest had lied.
Or someone had manipulated it.
Martin walked directly toward Cabin 8142.
Not our honeymoon suite.
Elaine’s hiding place.
“How does he know I’m here?” she whispered.
No one answered.
Martin reached the corner.
Two security officers intercepted him.
He did not run.
Men like Martin Hartman did not believe they needed to.
He smiled.
He presented identification.
He claimed he was an authorized corporate security consultant traveling under confidentiality.
Then he asked the officers to call the cruise line’s vice president of operations.
They did.
That was when everything became complicated.
The vice president confirmed Martin had boarded using a private executive arrangement.
Ortiz was furious.
“He is not security.”
The executive on the phone hesitated.
Martin smiled.
Money.
Connections.
Influence.
I had watched those three things turn terrible men into untouchable men before.
But Ortiz refused to release him.
She brought him into an interview room.
Martin saw me through the glass.
For the first time, his confidence slipped.
Just slightly.
“Ashlynn.”
I entered with Ortiz beside me.
Martin leaned back.
“I hear Gregory frightened you.”
“He tried to hit me with a baseball bat.”
“My son has always been theatrical.”
“Celia Ward probably thought so too.”
The effect was immediate.
Martin’s face became perfectly still.
Ortiz noticed.
So did I.
He recovered quickly.
“I have no idea who that is.”
I placed the newspaper clipping on the table.
Martin did not look at it.
Then I placed the forged transfer document beside it.
His eyes moved.
There.
One second.
Maybe less.
But I saw recognition.
“You know what this is.”
“I know what forgery looks like.”
“Interesting.”
I leaned closer.
“I never told you it was forged.”
Martin stared at me.
Ortiz’s phone rang.
She answered.
Then her eyes widened.
One of her officers had searched Martin’s executive suite.
Inside a locked briefcase, they had found a notarized document scheduled to become effective at midnight.
It transferred my Dalton Maritime voting rights to Gregory.
And this time, the signature at the bottom was not forged.
May you like
It was blank.
Waiting for me.
