Chapter 4: The Masquerade
The seven days leading up to our departure were an exercise in psychological endurance. Every touch from Victor felt like the cold brush of a reptile. Every time he brushed Sophie’s hair out of her eyes or smiled at her drawings, my fingernails dug into the palms of my hands until they bled inside my pockets.
On our anniversary eve, Victor arrived home with a bottle of vintage champagne and a small, velvet-lined box from an upscale jeweler on Newbury Street.
“To nine incredible years, my love,” he toasted, popping the cork with an easy, practiced twist of his wrists. He poured two crystal flutes, handing one to me.
I took the glass, touching the rim to mine with a delicate chime. “To the future we deserve,” I replied, watching him over the crystal. I raised the glass to my lips, letting a single drop touch my tongue while pretending to take a deep swallow.
Victor set his glass down, opening the velvet box to reveal a platinum pendant encrusted with an intricate web of diamonds. “Turn around,” he murmured affectionately.
I turned, lifting my hair. His fingers were warm against my neck as he fastened the heavy clasp. He lingered there, his hands resting on my shoulders, his breath warm against my ear.
“You know, Elise,” he whispered, looking at our reflection in the dining room mirror, “some men spend their whole lives looking for perfection. A loyal wife. A beautiful child. A legacy.”
“And you have it all, don’t you?” I met his eyes in the glass.
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Almost. Tomorrow, the slate gets wiped clean. No more stress. Just absolute freedom.”
Absolute freedom. The words hung between us like a executioner’s axe.
Early the next morning, we arrived at the docks of Port Judith. The sky was an ominous, bruised violet, heavy with the promise of autumn rain, and the ocean beyond the breakwater was capped with white ridges. The Sea Phantom was an imposing vessel—sleek, predatory, painted a glaring bone-white.
A single deckhand, a young man named Ethan Cole, was securing the stern lines when our SUV pulled onto the private pier. He looked pale, his movements hurried and nervous. When Victor stepped into the harbor master’s office to clear the fuel manifests, Ethan hurried over to where I stood holding Sophie’s hand.
“Mrs. Morgan?” he whispered, his voice trembling as his eyes darted toward the office windows.
“Yes, Ethan?”
He swallowed hard, wringing a grease-stained rag in his hands. “Are you… are you sure you want to take the young girl out today? The small craft advisory is posted for dusk. I told Mr. Morgan the starboard bilge pump was showing an intermittent pressure drop, but he… he ordered me to sign off on the inspection anyway and told me to take the weekend off.”
The hair on the back of my arms stood up. Victor wasn’t just planning to push us; he was ensuring the boat itself could be reported as having suffered an operational mishap if maritime investigators poked around.
“Thank you, Ethan,” I said softly, giving his arm a firm squeeze. “We have everything we need.”
Before boarding, I knelt on the wooden dock in front of Sophie. I zipped her bright orange, heavy-duty offshore life vest up to her chin. Inside the specialized, water-sealed interior pocket of that vest, placed there by Detective Hale forty-eight hours prior, sat a military-grade satellite beacon the size of a matchbox. It was programmed to ping the Coast Guard Interceptor unit the moment it was immersed in salt water for more than five consecutive seconds.
“Listen to me, Sophie,” I whispered, holding her sweet, confused face between my palms. “Do you remember the game we practiced at the pool yesterday?”
She nodded solemnly, her lower lip trembling slightly. “The quiet seal game?”
“The quiet seal game,” I confirmed, kissing her forehead. “No matter what happens today, no matter what Daddy says or does, you hold Mommy’s hand. If we go into the water, you do not let go. You kick your legs, you keep your face up, and you remember that Mommy has a secret shield protecting us. Do you trust me?”
“I trust you, Mommy,” she whispered.
Behind us, heavy footsteps clattered across the wooden planks.
“What are my two favorite girls plotting?” Victor laughed, stepping onto the gangway with a cooler slung over his shoulder.
I stood up, turning with a brilliant, practiced smile. “Just telling Sophie we might see migrating humpbacks today.”
“Oh, you’ll see wonders today, baby,” Victor said, lifting Sophie onto the deck. “Wonders you’ll never forget.”
