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No.
No.
The door opens behind me while I’m still frozen in place, staring at the damning piece of evidence in my hand.
“What are you doing?”
I turn my head to look at him. “What did you do?”
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
BLAKE
Florence stands up, holding one of Mae’s dresses in her hand.
“What do you mean what did I do?”
“Why is this here?” she demands, staring at me as if I’m a stranger. Worse, as if I’m a monster. I can still taste the vomit on my tongue; the sting of it still burns my throat. Apparently, not only am I not going to be able to eat with Mae gone, but I’m also not going to be able to keep what little Idoeat down.
“Sorry.” She’s still waiting for me to respond. I study the dress in her hand. “Um, I don’t know. Where was it?”
“On the floor under the bed,” she says.
“She must’ve dropped it. It probably got shoved out of the way. Why?”
“Blake, what did you do?” she asks, shaking her head in horror.
Every hair on my body stands. “What do you mean? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You have to tell me.” Her voice cracks. “Why do you have this?”
“Her dress? Why wouldn’t I?”
“Not just any dress.” She shakes it at me. “This was the dress she was wearing when she disappeared.”
My muscles clench.Is this a joke?“What?No.”
Her chin rises and falls. “Mae was wearing this at the bar with me last night.”
“No. That’s impossible.” I try to think back over yesterday, but my memory is such a blur. I’d had too much to drink, I was exhausted, and I’m not one to care about what she’s wearing anyway. “No.”
“Yes.” Her tone is firm. Certain. “This was what she wore. How would it have gotten here?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not a good enough answer.”
“What do you want me to say? I swear to you, I don’t know how it got here.” I run a hand through my hair and over the back of my neck. “She… She came back here, right?”
“You said she didn’t come in the room!”
“I said I never woke up if she did. Maybe she snuck in and changed.”
But why?I can’t ask her the question. Without saying a word, she’s the one asking me. Why would she have come back and changed only to leave again? Was it before she went to the bar? Or after? Briefly, I imagine my wife slipping into the room and putting on a disguise, leaving under the guise of being someone else. It’s as if I don’t know her at all. My stomach clenches, threatening to erupt again. “Florence, look at me.”
Her brown eyes meet mine, wild and feral. She’s an animal, and I have her trapped. I step to the side, giving her a clear path to the door to make myself less of a threat. I need her to hear me. My hands go up near my face, bouncing up and down slowly as I speak.
“I didn’t hurt Mae, okay? You know that. But if that dress is here, it meansshewas here at some point, right? That’s a good thing! She could’ve been in here today, even. It could mean she’s still on the ship, couldn’t it?”
