Page 78 of The Awful Truth

Her thoughts were interrupted by a nice-looking young man with a thick accent who was introducing himself as Detective Novak. He was dressed in a short-sleeved button-up shirt and linen pants, as if he were attending an afternoon wedding instead of a crime scene (was that what this was?). It was all so odd to her. “Dr. Dawson? How are you doing?”

Antonia looked at Miguel for an answer.

“She’s…slightly catatonic.”

The detective narrowed his eyes at the word catatonic, so Miguel tapped the side of his head. “She’s barely here.”

He nodded, then glanced at the drink and lifted an eyebrow at Miguel.

Miguel blushed. “It’s medicinal.”

“Booze?”

“Yep.”

“It’s probably not the worst idea.”

Antonia knew she needed to say something to the detective. She wasn’t safe, but she couldn’t remember why she knew that. Who was she afraid of? Ted? No, no. Not her Ted. Never. He could be manipulative and cocky and overbearing at times. Oh right. He was also a lying sack of shit. But he wasn’t evil. He wasn’t violent.

Detective Novak grabbed a chair from nearby, pulled it up in front of her, and sat down. “Dr. Dawson? Antonia? I need you to answer a few questions. Do you think you can do that?”

“I’ll try.”

“It’s very important that you answer me truthfully.”

“Of course.”

He glanced at Miguel. “Do you think you could give us a few minutes?”

Miguel turned to Antonia. “I’m going to be right inside, okay?”

“Thanks,” she said, feeling helpless, like a child watching her security blanket get washed down a river. Come back. Please.

As soon as Miguel left, the detective said, “I’m trying to piece together what happened here today and I need your help. We have already spoken to a few people who described the incident, but I understand you were the closest person to both your husband and Mr. Bishop at the time of the shooting. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Did your husband have any reason to harm Mr. Bishop?”

Suddenly, it all rushed back to her. The look in his eyes. The terror. The spear aimed directly at her. The explosion of air against the water when Ted took the shot. Her lungs felt like they had collapsed and she had to take a few giant gulps to fill them again. She bent at the waist, feeling as though her bones had turned to liquid. Rocking back and forth to get away from the pain, she whispered, “Oh God, he was trying to kill me.”

CHARLOTTE

Charlotte was in her room packing her things. She was going to get the hell off this yacht and get back to the US as fast as humanly possible. She’d had enough luxury for a lifetime. She used to think this was what she wanted, but now, having seen how miserable all these rich, shiny people were, she wanted nothing to do with this world ever again.

Her hands were still shaking from what had happened. Even just being interviewed by the police was terrifying. She was a witness to a murder. Or was it just an accident? She had asked the detective, but he said that was up to the prosecutor to decide, not him. She’d done her civic duty. Answered every question. She’d even offered to give them the video. She’d been filming underwater with her Go-pro, chasing a sea turtle, then she’d turned just in time to catch everything. Ted was following Antonia. As soon as she stopped moving, he took aim. Antonia saw him. She knew. Charlotte could tell by the way she was shaking her head. If Travis hadn’t gotten in the way, the last thing she would have known was that she was about to be murdered by her husband.

Charlotte hadn’t wanted to turn on Ted like that, but then again, clearly he wasn’t the man she thought he was. The sweet, thoughtful, protective man who made her feel safe and loved and seen. That man could never do such a thing to the mother of his children. So, Antonia had been right. That man didn’t exist.

Yes, turning on him was the right thing to do.

Besides, she was worried Antonia would tell the police about the affair, and if so, it would make her look like she was in on it. Like they’d planned the whole thing. And there was no way she was about to spend the best years of her life in a Croatian prison for something she had nothing to do with. She’d even tried to stop it, by screaming “No!” at him, but it was impossible under the water. She certainly didn’t want Antonia dead. And there was no way she was going to marry a man who tried to murder his wife. In her head, she could hear Antonia’s voice: If they do it once, they’ll do it again.

There was a knock at the door, and she hurried to answer it, hoping it was Oliver coming to check on her. She would cling to him and let herself have a good cry. It was all so terrible. And he’d be happy to be her rock right now.

Only when she swung the door open, Detective Novak was standing there. “It seems you forgot to mention that you and Mr. Dawson were having an affair.”

OLIVER