Chapter 7: The Woman on the Radio
The voice stayed in my head long after the radio went silent.
Emily is alive.
I looked at my father through the smoke.
He was staring at me.
Neither of us spoke.
Then another explosion rocked the yacht.
“Move!”” Dad shouted.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the forward deck.
Flames crawled along the floor behind us.
Rain came down so hard it turned the burning fuel into sheets of orange water.
“Dad!”” I shouted.
“The radio!””
“Forget the radio!””
“She said Emily is alive!””
“I heard her!””
“Who was she?””
“I don't know!””
“You do know something!””
He stopped.
For one second, we stood in the middle of the storm while fire reflected in the rain around us.
Dad looked at me.
“I've heard that voice before.””
My stomach dropped.
“When?””
“Twenty years ago.””
“Where?””
He swallowed.
“The night your mother died.””
A blast shook the yacht.
He pulled me toward the railing.
“We talk when we're off this boat.””
“No. Tell me now.””
“Claire, we may have three minutes.””
“You've had twenty years!””
His face crumpled.
“I know.””
That answer hurt more than an argument would have.
One of the security guards reached us.
“Mr. Whitmore! The emergency raft is still operational.””
“Get Claire inside.””
Dad pointed toward the inflatable raft secured beneath the forward canopy.
The guard ran.
I followed.
Then I heard footsteps behind us.
I turned.
Graham stood on the opposite side of the deck.
His clothes were soaked.
His face was streaked with blood.
And he wasn't holding the gun anymore.
He was holding a small black case.
The same kind my father had secretly packed in my luggage.
I stopped.
“Graham.””
Dad stepped in front of me.
“What did you take?””
Graham smiled.
“Something your wife should have seen years ago.””
He opened the case.
Inside was a cassette tape.
Old.
Scratched.
Labeled in faded handwriting.
*FOR CLAIRE — IF SHE EVER ASKS.*
My heart stopped.
“Where did you get that?””
“Your mother's belongings.””
Dad went completely still.
“That's impossible.””
“No.””
Graham held it up.
“You searched her office. You searched the house. You searched every safe you knew about.””
He looked at me.
“But she knew you would.””
I stared at the tape.
“Play it.””
Dad shook his head.
“Claire, don't.””
“Play it.””
Graham smiled.
“You want to hear your mother?””
My throat tightened.
“She's dead.””
“So you should listen carefully.””
He pulled a tiny player from his coat.
The tape clicked into place.
Static filled the air.
Then a woman's voice.
Soft.
Breathless.
My mother.
“If you're hearing this, then something has gone terribly wrong.””
My knees almost gave out.
I hadn't heard her voice since I was a child.
The sound broke something inside me.
Dad turned away.
The recording continued.
“Robert, if it's you, I'm sorry.””
Dad closed his eyes.
“I should have told you everything.””
A pause.
“I found the ledger.””
Dad whispered:
“No.””
My mother's voice continued.
“I also found out what Victor did with Emily.””
I covered my mouth.
“Emily is alive.””
The recording crackled.
“She was never killed. Victor gave her to a woman named Mara Voss.””
Dad suddenly grabbed the player.
The tape stopped.
“Enough.””
I stared at him.
“Who is Mara Voss?””
He wouldn't answer.
“Dad.””
Graham laughed.
“Ask him.””
Dad looked at Graham.
“You don't understand what you're playing with.””
“I understand perfectly.””
“You think this is revenge?””
“It is.””
“No.””
Dad's voice became strangely calm.
“This stopped being about revenge the moment you brought Claire onto this yacht.””
Graham's expression hardened.
“I brought her here because she was the only thing you cared about.””
“You could have come after me.””
“I did.””
Graham looked at the burning yacht.
“You never came after me.””
“What are you talking about?””
“You sent investigators after my father.””
Dad's jaw tightened.
“He murdered people.””
“He ruined my life.””
“He ruined his own life.””
Graham's face twisted.
“You took everything.””
“No,” Dad said.
“Victor took everything.””
A terrible silence fell.
Then Graham pointed at me.
“Your mother knew the truth.””
I stepped forward.
“What truth?””
Dad whispered:
“Claire, don't.””
I ignored him.
“What did Mom know?””
Graham answered.
“She knew Emily wasn't the only child Victor had taken.””
I froze.
“What?””
Graham smiled.
“Ask your father how many children disappeared.””
Dad's face changed.
The security guard shouted from the raft.
“Sir! We have to go!””
The yacht tilted violently.
A section of railing tore loose and crashed into the sea.
Dad grabbed me.
“Now!””
I looked at Graham.
“You're coming with us.””
He laughed.
“No.””
“Graham!””
“You still don't understand.””
He looked at the flames.
“This yacht was never supposed to survive.””
He pulled something from his pocket.
A remote detonator.
Dad's eyes widened.
“Graham.””
“Goodbye, Claire.””
He pressed the button.
Nothing happened.
Graham looked down.
Pressed it again.
Still nothing.
He stared at the device.
Then at Dad.
Dad smiled.
“I disabled the explosives before we boarded.””
Graham's face went white.
“You—”
“You weren't the only one planning.””
A security guard tackled Graham.
They hit the deck.
The detonator skidded toward me.
I grabbed it.
Graham screamed.
“Don't touch that!””
I stared at him.
“Why?””
His eyes widened.
Because suddenly I understood.
The device wasn't connected to the yacht.
It was connected to something else.
Something he'd been carrying.
I pressed the button.
A loud crack sounded from the lower deck.
Graham screamed.
“NO!””
Dad looked at him.
“What did you rig?””
Graham stared at me with pure hatred.
“The safe.””
“What safe?””
He laughed.
“The one containing everything.””
Dad's face changed.
“What did you do?””
Graham looked at me.
“Now you'll never find Emily.””
The yacht groaned.
The forward section began collapsing.
Dad pulled me toward the raft.
We jumped.
The inflatable raft hit the waves hard enough to knock the breath from me.
I surfaced beside my father.
The yacht burned behind us.
Graham's silhouette stood on the upper deck.
He wasn't running.
He was watching us.
Then another explosion tore through the yacht.
His silhouette disappeared.
I screamed his name.
Dad held me back.
“Claire!””
“I saw him!””
“No!””
The yacht broke apart in the storm.
Flames vanished beneath black water.
For several seconds, there was nothing.
Only waves.
Only rain.
Only darkness.
Then the emergency beacon on my father's wrist began blinking.
He stared at it.
“What?””
“What is it?””
His face went pale.
“Another signal.””
“From where?””
He looked toward the horizon.
“No.””
“What?””
“The signal isn't coming from the yacht.””
“Then where?””
He slowly turned the screen toward me.
The coordinates appeared.
They were transmitting from a small island roughly forty miles away.
And underneath the coordinates was a name.
*VOSS ISLAND.*
My heart stopped.
“Dad.””
“I know.””
“That's where Emily is.””
He looked at me.
“No.””
His voice shook.
“That's where Mara Voss used to live.””
May you like
A second message appeared.
*SHE KNOWS YOU'RE COMING.*
