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He doesn’t need to say more. I turn and I run.
CHAPTEREIGHT
BLAKE
I make six more attempts to call her in the time it takes for our steward, Jacob, to reach our room. Florence and Patton pace the small room, sit on the bed, then stand again when there’s a knock at the door.
I answer it in less than a second, whipping the door open and staring at the bald man in the hallway.
“Yes, sir.” He clasps his hands in front of him, looking official. “You said it was an emergency. Is everything okay?”
“My wife is missing.” The words taste bitter on my tongue. Impossible.
He blinks. His eyes widen as if I might be joking. “M-missing, sir? Your wife?”
“She didn’t come home last night. We need to call the police.”
He puts up a hand, trying to calm me down. “I understand, sir. When did you last see her? I’ll need to inform our security director.”
“I was with her until about ten last night, but she stayed out with our friend, Florence, until around three this morning.”
“I saw her walking back to her room,” Florence says from behind me. “We walked back together.”
“But she didn’t make it back?” Jacob asks.
My jaw tightens. “Correct.”
“My room is just a few doors down,” Florence tells him. “We’d been downstairs on one of the decks, and we came back up together. When we got to my room, I said good night and I’d see her in the morning, then went to bed. She was walking just a few feet to her room. I never thought… I mean, I didn’t expect…” She doesn’t finish the sentence.
Seeming to realize she’s finished, Jacob reaches for the orange-and-black walkie-talkie on his belt, pulling it to his mouth and speaking quickly. I hear the name Diego and our deck and cabin number.
When the response comes, it’s equally jumbled but seems to tell him what he needs to know. He hooks the device back on his belt and nods affirmatively. “Our security director is on his way.”
* * *
It takes about ten minutes before an official-looking man, dressed in black pants and a white button-down shirt with a gold name tag, appears in the hallway. When he does, Jacob’s shoulders go a bit straighter.
“Mr. Barlowe, this is Diego Diaz, our security director. He can help us locate your wife. Sir, this is Mr. Barlowe. He and his wife are staying with us, and we can’t seem to locate her.”
He says it as if I might’ve misplaced her.
Diego turns his head to look at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. He’s serious and intimidating.
“What is Mrs. Barlowe’s first name?” he asks.
“Mae. Her name is Mae.”
“Okay. And when did you last see Mae?”
He’s so calm I feel like I’m going to explode. “I left her with our friend, Florence Hart, last night after dinner.” I gesture toward Florence, keeping my voice steady though my ears are practically ringing. “They headed to their rooms at three this morning, but Mae never made it here.”
He glances around me, toward Florence. “Is that true?”
She nods.
“And how did Mae seem when you last saw her?”
“She was fine.” Florence steps forward to stand next to me. “Tired, but fine. She’d had a few drinks, but she wasn’t drunk. We said we’d see each other in the morning, and that was it.”
