now
Lana stands facing Joseph’s sister, aware of a throbbing in her temples and a sheen of sweat licking her back. It was only this morning that The Blue came crashing back into her world with the news that it had sunk—and in a matter of hours, it feels as if the very seams that are holding Lana together are starting to strain, rip apart.
It is just a matter of time before Aimee Melina discovers that Joseph wasn’t on the yacht when it sailed to New Zealand—and she is going to want to know why.
The problem is, Lana’s not even certain that she knows the truth herself.
But one of the crew does.
She still sees Joseph’s face, even now. It’s carved into her thoughts: the sharp angle of his nose, the darkness of his eyes with a glimmer of light at their corners, the foppish dark hair. She wonders if she’ll ever get over what happened as the memory of it beats within her like a second pulse.
What if, she thinks darkly, the crew members don’t return? Lana will lose the people she once cared about—and she’ll be the only living person who was there the night that Joseph disappeared.
What would she tell Aimee Melina then?
“Who should I speak to? Who is leading the search?” Joseph’s sister asks Lana.
Lana swallows. “Paul Carter. The Operations Room is just up ahead on the right. I’m sure he’ll be able to help you.”
“Thank you.” Aimee Melina turns, and Lana watches her glide along the corridor, her posture effortlessly graceful.
Lana already knows that once she reaches the Operations Room and inquires about Joseph—that will be it. Something will be put into motion that cannot be undone.
Lana needs to get away from Joseph’s sister—have a chance to think clearly. She hurries towards the exit of the building, shouldering through the double doors. Outside, the chill air breezes over her skin, cooling the red heat in her cheeks.
Across the flat plain of concrete, Lana sees her car. The urge to get in, to drive far away from the Rescue Centre, is almost overwhelming. When she walked away from The Blue, she thought she could let the bad memories and questions sail off with her friends. Only she was wrong. They were still here, living deep within her—just as they would be if she left now. She has no choice but to face them.
She walks towards the edge of the port, where a bench is set back from the water. She sits there, feeling the cold wood against the backs of her thighs, waiting for her breathing to settle. She can imagine the conversation Aimee Melina will be having with Paul Carter: My brother was on board The Blue. Joseph Melina.
I’m sorry, but we’ve no record of him. Sure you haven’t made a mistake?
Certain. He wrote to me from the yacht, told me he was sailing to New Zealand.
I’ll check again, Paul Carter would say, searching through the crew list—even though he’d know all their names by heart. He’d return to her, palms opening as he said, I’m really sorry, but no, he’s not on the list. He must have got off in one of the earlier ports.
It’s not going to be long before Lana has no choice but to explain what she knows about Joseph. For months she hasn’t allowed herself to think of that night—or the terrible days that followed—but now her thoughts begin to carry her back there.
An image fills her mind: a dark red bloodstain at the edge of the teak deck. She recalls the way it had seeped into the grain of the wood, the blood locked there like a memory.