Page 67 of Isla

"And Camila? Where did you meet her?"

"She's been my secretary for the past year."

Hmmm. Suspicious. I turn back to Theo, sliding my hand over his arm to get his attention.

"What have you found out so far?" I ask.

"The man beside me is Peter Hyland, Franklin Astor's business partner. His wife, Emily, is sitting to his right, hanging on every word he says."

"Should we get up and mingle?" I ask, setting my napkin on my empty dessert plate and pushing away from the table.

"That's a good idea. I want to find out as much as we can about the people we haven't had a chance to talk to before the murder happens.”

Theo takes my hand as I stand, pushing to his feet next to me. That's when everything goes black.

"Too late," I whisper, my heart in my throat. "I think it's happening now." Will it be one of us? I hadn't even considered that. Oh god. I nearly jump out of my skin at the scream that erupts to my left.

I grip Theo's arm, my heart racing. Something hits the floor hard, and Theo draws me against his body, holding still as we both listen to the commotion going on around us. The lights flicker, and I spin to my left, getting a glimpse of Franklin sprawled on the ground, a knife sunk into his abdomen, his wife sobbing beside him before the lights go out again.

Fuck. This is legitimately terrifying.

"Folks, we have a temporary power outage," The same woman from earlier announces, walking into the room with a candle, settingit in the middle of the table. "Please enjoy drinks on us while we get it fixed." She pulls a flashlight out of her pocket, shining it around the table to ensure everyone is okay.

"Theo!" I tug on his arm until he turns toward me, and I point to Camila, sitting in her chair, her body trembling, a bright red slash on her arm, her hands covered in blood.

Jesus.

"What's this?" the woman asks, the beam of her flashlight traveling along Franklin's body. Her shrill scream startles me. She drops the flashlight, the beam cartwheeling. I catch a glimpse of an arm reaching out to the candle, setting a scrap of paper on fire. I don't get a chance to see the face, I only know that it was someone close, on our side of the table. I set a glass upside down over the curl of black paper, snuffing out the flame. Someone brushes my arm, sneaking behind us.

"Where were you?" I hear someone rage-whisper before the words are cut off abruptly. My mind is spinning, trying to put together puzzle pieces that don't fit. A gong sounds, and a man holding a lantern stands on a chair, towering over all of us.

"Good evening. I'm Detective Randall Evans. There has been a murder. Nobody is allowed to leave this level of the ship until everyone has been questioned. You may talk to each other, ask each other questions, and ask me questions when we have our one-on-one interviews. If you have the information requested, you are obligated to answer the question truthfully. Take your time. The person who solves this murder will be the person who asks the right questions. Ms. Johnson, you're first. Please follow me."

Ms. Johnson–the governor, if my memory of the information card serves me right–huffs. "I was on the opposite side of the table, it very obviously wasn't me." Mr. Evans gives her a stern look, and she snaps her mouth shut, following him out of the room.

"I didn't realize this was going to feel so real," I whisper, my heart pounding from the adrenaline roaring through my system. I grab the candle from the table and hold it over Franklin's body, looking dubiously at the pool of red forming beneath him. I bend down and holdmy fingers to his neck to satisfy my worry. I gasp when he opens his eyes, giving me a quick wink before resuming his position. Thank fuck. This was all getting a little too real for comfort. The lights come back on suddenly, and I take a deep breath, steadying myself.

"Come on, let's get away from everyone and talk about what we know." I grab Theo's sleeve and tug him out of the room, winding our way around the odd staff member until we reach the mostly empty salon. I sit at the piano, needing to do something with my fingers while I think. I pick out “Twinkle, twinkle little star” while the details of the night spin through my head. "It seems like almost everyone in that room could have had a motive to murder Franklin," I muse, adding some simple chords with my left hand.

"Really?" he asks, leaning against the piano and watching me closely, his eyebrow lifting. "The only people with any motive would be you or Camila, depending on Franklin's will."

"Me?"

He shrugs. "You're his daughter and probably stand to inherit his half of the business."

"Yes, but why would I murder him?"

"Perhaps he said he was going to change his will. Take you out and add his wife."

"Damn. You're good at this. Except it wasn't me."

He narrows his eyes, studying my face, trying to sniff out a lie. I purse my lips, keeping my cards close to my chest.

"I think we should split up, find out as much as we can from everyone, and then come back together and compare notes," I say, standing.

"Smart. Meet me back here in thirty minutes?"

I nod, walking out of the room without looking back. I stop around the corner, peeking back into the room, watching Theo pick something out from underneath his nails, wipe a smudge from the back of his hand, and then head into the bathroom, annoyance written in the lines of his face. I shake my head. It can't be Theo. Can it? He was right next to me the whole time. I return to the dining room, studying everyone, letting their body language speak to me. The only problemis that everyone here is pretending to be someone they aren't, so how can I rely on body language? Ugh. I pull out a pad of paper and the pen I took from the room, jotting down a list of questions along with everyone's names. That will at least help me to stay organized. Perhaps I'll have a fighting chance of figuring this out quickly so I can drag Theo back to the room and have my way with him.

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