Page 57 of Fire and Ice Cruise

“Gideon was planning to do a whole segment on her.” Silas’s voice drops, as though he’s afraid someone else might be listening in. Little does he know. “He was focusing on her past. Things she’d worked hard to leave behind. Things that had nothing to do with who she is now.”

“What kind of things?”

“I don’t know all the details. But I saw them arguing the night he died. She was furious. She threatened him, actually.” He pauses, letting that sink in. “I probably should have told security, but I didn’t want to get her in trouble. She’s been through enough.”

“That must have been hard to witness,” I say.

“It was.” Silas pulls out his phone. “Actually, I took a photo. Not of them arguing—I’m not that invasive. But I wanted to document the event for Holland’s social media account and they happened to be in the background. Let me show you.”

He swipes through his photos, and before he gets to the pictures of that night, the screen fills with an image that makes my chest tight.

It’s a sweet little boy. He looks to be maybe three years old with dark hair, dark eyes, and he’s holding a basketball almost as big as he is. He’s grinning at the camera with the pure joy only toddlers can manage, and his whole face lit up with happiness.

“Oh my goodness, he’s adorable.” The words come out softer than I intended. “Is he yours?”

Silas laughs and there’s a genuine surprise in the sound of it. “Wow, no. No, he’s actually my nephew. Griffin. He lives with my sister in Portland. The kid is obsessed with basketball—or at least holding the ball.”

Celeste drifts closer, peering at the screen. “He adores that child. Look at how his whole face changes when he talks about him.”

There’s a note of longing in his voice and as a mother, I can relate to that.

“Holland and I have two grown children,” he says with a wistful shake of his head. “They grow so fast.”

“That they do, and I guess we have that in common. I have two grown children as well. Isn’t it great?” I give a light laugh. “I mean, we’re past the hard part—the diapers, the sleepless nights, the constant busy schedule of a child in the day and age where academic competition starts at birth.”

He makes a face, and for a second, I think he looks queasy.

Silas swipes to the next photo, and everything stops.

It’s Nicolette. In the Meridian Lounge. The night of the bon voyage party. She’s facing Gideon Vale, and her hand is mid-swing, connecting with his face in a slap hard enough to leave a mark.

The image is sharp, clear, and most certainly damning.

“Wow,” I muse, mostly to myself.

Gideon’s head is turned from the impact, his expression shocked. Nicolette’s face is twisted with fury. The timestamp reads 9:47 p.m.

“That’s from that night,” Silas says quietly. “I was taking photos of the party for Holland’s social media, and I caught this completely by accident. I didn’t even realize I had it until the next morning when I was sorting through images.”

I stare at the photo. Nicolette. Elegant, composed Nicolette. Slapping Gideon Vale right into tomorrow. But did she send him into the afterlife, too?

“Did you show this to anyone?” I can’t quite look away from the screen.

“No.” Silas shoves his phone back into his pocket. “Like I said, I didn’t want to get her in trouble. But between you and me? I think security should know. If they’re looking for someone who had a motive and an opportunity⁠—”

He trails off, letting me fill in the blanks.

An air horn blasts through the ship’s speakers—Tinsley’s signature way of announcing trivia results. She’s about as subtle as Nettie when it comes to doing anything. Heaven help us when they decide to team up.

Silas glances toward the sound. “I should get back. Holland will wonder where I went.”

“Of course.” I step aside to let him pass.

He pauses. “Can I ask you something? As someone who’s been on this ship a long time?”

“Sure. Anything.”

“Do you think security knows what they’re doing? With the investigation, I mean.” His concern looks genuine and it feels genuine, too. “Because if they’re focused on the wrong person while the real killer is just… walking around…”