Chapter 4: My Mother-in-Law's Deadly Secret
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Margaret's final words seemed to hang in the air.
Tyler wasn't supposed to survive.
My husband sat hunched in the terminal chair, staring at the disconnected phone as if it had personally betrayed him.
I held Piper and Poppy closer.
"Michael," I whispered, "what did she mean?""
Michael didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked at Rachel.
"Lock down the documents. Nobody leaves with copies.""
Tyler suddenly stood.
"That's my mother! What the hell is going on?""
Michael placed his phone in his pocket.
"Your mother just admitted that somebody expected you to die.""
Tyler shook his head.
"She didn't mean that.""
"Then call her back.""
Tyler grabbed his phone and dialed.
It went straight to voicemail.
He tried again.
Nothing.
"She's probably confused," he muttered.
I stared at him.
"Your mother just told us you weren't supposed to survive, and you're making excuses for her?""
Tyler looked at me.
"Emily, she's my mother.""
"And I'm your wife!""
My voice cracked.
"I gave birth to your children while you were somewhere having an affair. I trusted you to protect us. Now I find out your mother has been arranging travel documents behind my back, and you still expect me to believe everything is fine?""
He lowered his eyes.
Michael pulled out a chair.
"Tyler, sit down. We need to establish exactly what happened during the last five months.""
Tyler reluctantly sat.
Rachel opened her laptop.
"Mr. Mitchell, did you experience any unusual medical incidents aboard the ship?""
He frowned.
"What kind of incidents?""
"Illness. Accidents. Medication changes.""
Tyler rubbed his neck.
"Actually, yes.""
I leaned forward.
"What?""
He swallowed.
"About three weeks ago, I collapsed in my cabin.""
My heart skipped.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"I didn't want to worry you.""
"What happened?""
He looked toward Michael.
"I woke up in the ship's medical center. They said I'd probably been dehydrated.""
Rachel stopped typing.
"Who treated you?""
"Dr. Harris.""
"Was he the ship's regular physician?""
"I don't know. He was covering for someone.""
Michael exchanged a glance with Rachel.
"Was your medication changed?""
Tyler nodded.
"They gave me some tablets for sleep. I thought they were vitamins or something.""
I stared at him.
"Who gave them to you?""
"Vanessa.""
Every head turned.
Vanessa's face tightened.
"Don't drag me into this.""
Tyler stood again.
"You brought me those pills!""
"You said you couldn't sleep!""
"You told me the doctor approved them!""
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
"Well, I wasn't your nurse, Tyler.""
Michael's expression hardened.
"Rachel, add the medication issue to the investigation.""
Rachel typed something.
Then she turned to Tyler.
"Do you remember the doctor's name?""
"Dr. Harris.""
Michael looked unsettled.
"There's no Dr. Harris assigned to the Ocean Majesty.""
Tyler's mouth fell open.
"What?""
"Not during your contract.""
I felt my stomach twist.
Michael removed another document from the folder.
"We reviewed the medical center's access logs yesterday. Someone entered your cabin shortly before you collapsed.""
He showed Tyler a photograph.
A man wearing a medical uniform stood outside a crew corridor.
Tyler stared at it.
"That's him.""
Michael nodded.
"His identification was issued under a temporary contractor account that has since been deleted.""
"Who authorized it?"" I asked.
Michael looked at me.
"Your mother-in-law.""
Tyler slowly sat back down.
For the first time, he looked genuinely frightened.
"Why would Mom do that?""
Michael didn't answer.
Instead, he turned to Rachel.
"Show them the payment.""
She opened a bank statement.
A transfer of $50,000 had been made to a company registered in the Cayman Islands.
The sender was Margaret Mitchell.
The recipient was the same company connected to the suspicious crew-access credentials.
Tyler covered his mouth.
"Mom...""
I looked at the amount.
Then at the date.
The payment had been made two days before his collapse.
My hands began trembling.
"Michael, what happens if Tyler was poisoned?""
Michael spoke carefully.
"That's something the appropriate investigators need to establish. We shouldn't assume what happened until the medical evidence is examined.""
Then Rachel's laptop chimed.
She stared at the screen.
"What is it?"" Michael asked.
Rachel turned the computer around.
An email had just arrived.
The sender was Margaret Mitchell.
The subject line contained six words.
*THE GIRLS MUST LEAVE TONIGHT.*
I felt my blood turn cold.
The message contained only one sentence.
If Emily knows about the inheritance, don't let her leave with the twins.
And underneath it was an attachment.
May you like
A photograph of my front door.
Taken less than ten minutes earlier.
