Chapter 5 - What Was Inside the Suitcase
I looked back at the photographs. "Where is Wesley now?"
"Security detained him."
"Was that the alarm?"
"Yes. He tried to force his way into another restricted area after he ran."
"Are there others?"
"One more passenger is being questioned. Security thinks a crew member may have helped him."
Then I asked the question I suddenly dreaded. "What's inside my suitcase?"
"Mostly your clothes."
"Mostly?"
He hesitated. My stomach tightened.
He opened it. Sitting on top of my folded clothes was a small black device, sealed in an evidence bag.
"What is that?"
"A card skimmer."
"For credit cards?"
"Possibly."
"It isn't mine."
"I know."
"You found it in my suitcase?"
"Yes."
"Why would he put it there?"
"We think the plan was to leave your suitcase somewhere and make it look like you'd stolen something."
A second evidence bag held what looked like a master keycard.
"If those had turned up with your things," Gerald said, "you'd have had some very uncomfortable questions to answer."
I felt sick. "Why me?"
His answer was simple, and it landed like a slap. "Because you were alone."
Because I was alone. Those four words were exactly why I'd almost refused to take this cruise at all.
For thirty-six years, my husband Walter and I had traveled everywhere together. He handled the maps, the tickets, the documents, the luggage. He talked to strangers. He remembered everything. After he died three years ago, I realized how much I'd let him carry simply because it was easier.
This trip was supposed to prove something to myself — that I could still travel, still explore, still do something entirely because I wanted to.
Someone had looked at that independence and seen an opening. I hated them for it. And I hated that my own daughter's response to that fear had been to quietly build another cage around me.
"What happens now?" I asked.
"Security needs your statement. Local authorities may want to speak with you once we dock."
"Fine."
"And you?" I asked. "Were you planning to just disappear after tonight?"
He looked down. Less than an hour earlier we'd raised champagne glasses together. To unexpected second chances, he'd said.
"I was going to tell you," he said.
"When?"
"After we docked."
"Why not before?"
"The investigation was still active."
"There's always a reason, isn't there."
"Yes."
"And you understand that doesn't make me feel one bit better?"
May you like
"Yes."
At least he kept saying yes instead of arguing me out of my own feelings. I was worn out from people explaining why my anger was inconvenient for them. Gerald, at least, didn't try.
