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I nod. I hadn’t thought it through until now, but the blue imprints on either side of Lucy’s neck could definitely have been caused by fingers. Someone strangling her from behind or shoving her head into the water. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force out the images.
“Did you see them, Doug?” Greta asks, her voice rushed. “When you were helping the police with her body?”
Doug shakes his head slowly, his mouth set in a firm line. “No. But to be fair, I was trying not to look at her. I carried her to the surface from behind, so I didn’t really see her face or neck.”
“Maybe the cut on her forehead was from something else,” Greta says. Her voice is quiet, and her face looks paler than usual. “She could have gone swimming during the party. Maybe she was drunk or on drugs. She could have hit her head on something—a rock or coral—and lost consciousness.”
“But what about the bruises?” Brooke questions.
Greta shrugs. “Maybe they were unrelated. Or…”
She trails off, and I feel eyes shift to me, the silent implication hitting me a moment later than the others.
Maybe they weren’t really there. Maybe I imagined them.
“It’s just that shock does weird things to the mind,” Greta rushes to say in an apologetic tone.
“She’s got a point,” Neil says. “When you’re down there, the water can change how you see things, especially in low visibility. The marks could have been anything: a refraction from seaweed, a smudge on your mask.”
I nod. I know all this. I try to think back to that moment when I noticed the phantom fingerprints on Lucy’s neck.
There was so much happening. The shock of seeing her body there, of finding the object next to her, of becoming aware of Daniel’s rushed ascent. And then my mind returns to the pill I took this morning. I know the side effects of Xanax. I know how it can screw with your memory. And what if there really wasn’t any bruising? What if I made it up?
“You’re right,” I say finally, weighing my options. “It could have been anything—her veins showing through her skin, maybe? I don’t know.”
Neil nods encouragingly, and I feel Logan resume rubbing my back, but my eyes shift to Brooke, whose forehead is scrunched.
“This has been a traumatizing day for everyone, especially Cass,” Greta says, turning to Doug. “Any chance we can get her back home?”
I shoot Greta a look of gratitude, which she returns with a kind smile.
Doug clears his throat and injects a note of authority into his voice. “Of course. The police aren’t going to have the autopsy results until tomorrow at least, and they said they wouldn’t be back for questions tonight. We’ve all been here for hours.”
I look through the small window of the dive shop and see the sun beginning to dip over the ocean, the sky growing a vibrant purple.
“Let’s all go home and get some rest. We’ll close the dive shop for now,” Doug says.
“Good idea,” Logan says. “I’ll keep Frangipani closed too, out of respect. It’s not like we’d get a big crowd the day after Full Moon anyway.” He turns to me. “Let’s get you home.”
We say our goodbyes and disperse as Doug locks up the shop, Brooke walking back to her room and the rest of us heading to our bikes.
“Come on, love,” Logan says, leading me to his motorbike. “You shouldn’t be driving. I’ll pick up your bike later.”
I follow his lead and perch behind him on the bike, my arms wrapped around his solid torso. I lean my head against his back, suddenly exhausted.
As he drives out of the parking area, I pull my legs up. As I do, I feel something shift at my waist. A cold metal brushes against my flesh through the thin lining of my shorts pocket.
And instantly I’m underwater again. Next to Lucy’s body, pulling the glinting object free from the seabed, my back turned away from Tamar and Ariel, my tank blocking their sight.
I brushed it free of sand, but even before it was clean, I knew what it was.
A perfect gold circle. I flipped it horizontally so I could see the words engraved inside, knowing already what they would be.
Forever Us Two.
The phrase Logan had engraved on our matching engagement rings. Our version of I love you.
As the wind whips against my face, I replay the one question I’ve been asking myself all day.
