Chapter 4

Carla's face went pale.

Clutching her chest, she stammered that she'd only wanted to return my property and couldn't believe I would think so badly of her.

"If you really wanted to return it, why send an anonymous text?" I scoffed. "And knowing how terrible my sense of direction is, why make me go alone to an abandoned ferry terminal in the middle of a hurricane warning?"

Maurice's expression darkened. "Carla's only just started getting better. Stop backing her into a corner."

I ignored him and continued, "You're sending me alone to an abandoned terminal in the middle of a storm. And you call that returning my property?"

"She had no idea the weather would get this bad when you stormed out with the recorder," Margaret interjected, exasperated. "Be grateful she's willing to give it back at all."

Hakon shoved his car keys into Maurice's hand. "The wedding venue is waiting for us to confirm the setup. Don't let her hold you up. She's a grown woman. Does she really need a babysitter just to pick something up?"

I looked at the three of them and suddenly fell silent.

Years ago, the first time I took an intercity bus alone, Kelsey had waited outside the terminal for two hours.

Worried I'd get lost trying to find the exit, she'd photographed every directional sign along the way and sent the pictures to my phone in the order I'd encounter them.

When Maurice first heard that story, he'd smiled and promised to stay by my side whenever we went somewhere unfamiliar. Now, even accompanying me to retrieve my mother's final legacy was too much trouble for him.

By the time I reached the old ferry terminal, the gale had torn down the billboard at the main entrance. The terminal had been out of service for years, and the directional signs were so faded by rain and time that their arrows seemed to point straight toward a barricaded corridor.

Carla sent me another photo. The memory card was sitting on top of a yellow storage locker marked B17.

I followed the dimly lit passageway. The moment I turned into the underground concourse, a heavy metal shutter crashed down behind me.

A man in a hooded rain slicker lunged out of the shadows and reached for my handbag. I clung to the strap with all my strength, my back slamming against the concrete wall.

He kicked me hard in the knee, sending me crashing into the rising water. Broken glass sliced into my elbow, and blood trickled from the wound before the floodwater washed it away.

The man rummaged through my bag. When he found nothing, he cursed and vanished into the darkness.

I struggled to my feet, only to discover that my phone had fallen into the water. Its screen flickered erratically before going dark.

The exit at the far end of the concourse was blocked by construction barriers, and water was pouring in through the storm drains.

I followed the faded emergency signs, hoping to find another way out. But after two wrong turns through the maze of corridors, I ended up right where I'd started.

With trembling fingers, I retrieved my phone and called Maurice.

"Maurice, I'm trapped in the underground concourse at the terminal. Someone attacked me and tried to steal my bag. He kicked my knee, and I could barely walk. Please come get me."

Silence fell for a moment. Then I heard Carla sobbing faintly in the background.

"The wedding is tomorrow," Maurice snapped. "Do you really have to pull a stunt like this?"

"I'm not lying!" I shouted. "The water is already up to my calves!"

"Is Josefin still holding a grudge against me?" Carla whimpered. "I didn't mean to send her to the wrong location. I already texted her and told her to come home. Is she so angry with me that she won't even trust me? I'm scared..."

Hakon snatched the phone away from Maurice.

"We'll find a way to recover Mom's recordings! Stop using your terrible sense of direction to invent emergencies and scare everyone."

He paused, then added impatiently, "If you can't find the card, just come home. If you were really in danger, would you even have time to make phone calls?"

The line went dead.

I stared at the black screen as the water surged past my knees. The gale howled through the broken windows, sending shards of glass rattling across the concrete floor.

Dragging my injured leg, I tried to climb toward higher ground.

But part of the metal handrail had broken off. My foot slipped, and I plunged into a flooded maintenance pit.

Freezing water rose to my chest. I frantically grabbed the rusted iron bars lining the pit, but the sharp metal sliced into my fingers until blood streamed down my hands.

As my consciousness began to fade, I heard the distant rumble of a rescue boat engine. By the time the Coast Guard search-and-rescue team pulled me from the pit, I was shaking so violently that I could barely speak.

Inside the ambulance, a paramedic tended to my wounds and asked for my emergency contact. I gave her Maurice's number, but he didn't answer his phone.

I tried Hakon and Margaret next. Neither picked up.

At four in the morning, the emergency room doctor informed me that I had torn a ligament in my right knee and dislocated my shoulder. I needed to remain under observation at the hospital.

I sat on the hospital bed, staring at the relentless rain pounding against the window.

Then a message from the wedding planner appeared on my phone, asking me to confirm the cancellation one last time.

I typed back: [The cancellation is final. Please process all refunds and penalties according to the contract. There is no need to contact Maurice Rivas for confirmation.]

I packed my passport and the shattered pieces of the recorder into my bag, then booked a ticket on the earliest train out of town.

...

On the morning of the wedding, Maurice arrived at the hotel in his tuxedo, only to find the grand ballroom empty.

The wedding planner handed him the cancellation notice and explained that I'd finalized the termination of the contract and left the city the night before.

Maurice stood alone in the doorway, framed by white floral arrangements. The color slowly drained from his face.

The wedding was truly canceled, and I wasn't coming back.