“He ran after I confronted him and tried entering a restricted service area.”
“Are there others?”
“One passenger is being questioned. Security is also investigating whether a crew member helped them.”
I sat again.
“What exactly was inside my suitcase?”
“Mostly your belongings.”
“Mostly?”
His hesitation immediately made my stomach tighten.
“What else?”
Richard opened the suitcase.
Resting on top of my clothes was a small black device sealed inside a clear evidence bag.
“What is that?”
“A card reader.”
“For stealing credit card information?”
“Possibly.”
“It isn’t mine.”
“No.”
“But it was inside my suitcase.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“We think he intended to leave the suitcase somewhere else.”
“For what purpose?”
Richard pointed toward another clear bag.
Inside was something resembling a staff access card.
“If your suitcase had been discovered with a card reader and unauthorized access card inside, security would have had to investigate you.”
I stared at him.
“Why would he frame me?”
“Probably to create confusion while the others escaped.”
I felt physically ill.
“Why me?”
Richard’s answer was quiet.
“Because you were alone.”
Four words.
Because you were alone.
The exact reason I had almost refused to take the cruise in the first place.
For thirty-eight years, I had traveled with my husband, Peter.
Peter carried the documents.
Peter read the maps.
Peter handled the luggage.
Peter spoke to strangers.
Peter always seemed to know what needed to happen next.
After he died three years earlier, I realized how many things I had quietly allowed him to manage.
This cruise had been a promise to myself.
I can still go somewhere.
