The whole group of people on the pier had stopped a few steps away from us. Thierry frowned. A band aid was patched across his chin. Ed's gaze was on me, eyes round with surprise, but when I tried to tear him to shreds with the wrath of my stare, he looked away. Greasy beside him was studying his fingernails.

Theresa was nowhere to be seen. And Thierry had just denied having had her on board.

The bastard.

Anger moved my legs, forcing me to step forward, to face the man.

To confront fucking Thierry Thorne.

"Anne?" His eyebrows rose.

I crossed my arms. "Yes, I."

His eyes probed my face, my t-shirt, my skirt, my legs. But it wasn't a lecher's gaze. His still parted lips betrayed it for what it was—disbelief.

I had never seen him like this—he had always been the one in control, the one on top of the events. The one taking the lead.

A fierce glow filled my belly and spread into my chest and my head. "Did you assume I was dead? That I drowned?" I extended my arms, showing myself in my full, living, hard-rock-glory. "Well, as you see, I'm alive. Thanks to TCorp's pool, I'm a strong swimmer. You didn't expect me to reach the shore, did you?"

"Anne—"

"You're Anne Anderson." Shortbitten's dry statement cut into my moment of fame and Thierry's budding answer. "You're arrested."

The detective's gray eyes were as damp and uninviting as a fog lurking over some English hinterland. I hated him for the interruption, the cold bastard. And what did he say there, about me being arrested?

"You can't arrest her." Homer came to my help. "This is a Coast Guard mission."

"Not now." Shortbitten pointed a bony finger at the concrete below us. "This is city territory."

"Who's the commanding officer from the Coast Guard here?" Homer asked.

"That's me." The uniformed woman stepping forward had a no-nonsense tanned face and short, ash-blonde hair. "I'm Lieutenant Grafton, Coast Guard. Detective Shortbitten is right, he can arrest anyone here, it's his turf. And who are you?"

"My name's Homer Holmes. I'm the one who has called your people this afternoon."

"Very good." Grafton nodded. "You can come with us, too. We've found nothing on that ship." She pointed her thumb at The Indomitable. "You and I, we need to talk."

Thierry took a step towards me, invading my personal space. "Anne, what have you done to Theresa?" He had recovered from stupefaction. There was a glare in his eyes and a challenge in the tilt of his head.

It took me a moment to understand what his question was about, what he was aiming at.

He was trying to put the blame on me, to turn me from the victim of his acts into the culprit behind them.

"I've done nothing to Theresa. It was you... you've killed her." I spat the words into his face.

He didn't flinch, but a tiny muscle twitched on his cheek, right above the jawline. "Killed? What has happened to her?"

He was delusional if he thought this would work.

I took a step away from him and turned to Lieutenant Grafton. "These men abducted Theresa Thorne and me." I pointed at Thierry and his chums. "They tried to kill me, on that ship over there. I jumped overboard and swam to the shore. They may have killed Theresa by now. Just check the goddam yacht... I'm sure you'll find proof for what I say... for what they did... like blood... or DNA..."

"That woman," Thierry said, his gaze on the lieutenant now, "I know her. She used to work for our company, but there was an incident, and we had to let her go." He put a hand on my arm. "Anne, just relax. There's no need to hold a grudge... we can sort this out."

I brushed him off and focused on Grafton. "Have you checked for Theresa in the hold where they held us captive?"

She glanced at Shortbitten and back at me. "And what hold would that be?"

"All the way down, in the... basement of the ship. At its very bottom."

Ed snorted.

"I can show you where it is," I said. "She may still be—" I took a step towards the ship.

Shortbitten grabbed my arm. "You can explain all of this at the station. Let's go now."

Grafton held up a hand. "Wait. We can't just ignore this. Forensics will have to check out the ship. But, while we're here, let's have a brief look at that hold she mentions."

"But, you've checked the yacht already..." Shortbitten said.

"The ship's my responsibility. You're turf, I'm surf... remember? And we'll check that hold, like right now." She looked at her two colleagues. "You stay here with—"

"This operation is under my control now," said Shortbitten, interrupting her.

The woman nodded. "Yes, but you certainly won't mind us having a brief look, will you? If she's lying, we'll just lose a couple of minutes. But if she tells the truth, we'll follow an essential lead. We can't ignore this. If we did, and if what she says turns out to be true, we'd both be in deep shit... whale-sized shit."

Shortbitten hesitated and looked at Thierry, who gave him a tiny, thin-lipped nod.

Why did he nod?

"Okay," the detective said. He let go of my arm.

"Fine." Grafton looked at her two colleagues and added, "You stay here with the ship's crew and with... Mr. Holmes here. Detective Shortbitten and I will go back to the yacht with Miss Anderson and check that hold she's talking about."

"I'll come with you," Thierry said. "That's my ship."

"He has the right to be present in any search," Shortbitten added, "he's the ship's owner."

Grafton shrugged. "Whatever." She took hold of my arm. "Show us the way, please, Miss Anderson." She pulled me towards The Indomitable.

I was quick to follow her even though I was tired of people grabbing my arms.

"I'm not sure the Lieutenant is allowed to do that," Shortbitten said behind me, obviously to Thierry.

"Just relax, man." Thierry's reply was a murmur.

As we walked up the gangway, bile rose all the way up to my throat. The ship's pool glowed turquoise, bathing the cheery deckchairs at its sides in a false light. It was all a camouflage to hide the dark secrets belowdecks, the hell lurking in its deepest bowels—a gaudy shroud over the black hole of dread and fear where they had held Theresa and me captive.

"Come," Grafton said.

I had come to a halt at the top of the gangway, my feet refusing to step onto the deck's polished, wooden planks.

Swallowing, I forced myself forward. I had nothing to fear now. Grafton seemed serious about her job.

I led the way into the ship, down the stairs, and along the corridor. As we reached the ladder, I stopped.

"The hold's down there." I looked at Grafton. "Have you checked it?"

She shrugged. "My men should have investigated it all, but I wasn't with them down here." She glanced at Shortbitten. "Let's have a look, just to be on the safe side."

Not waiting for his answer, I reached for the ladder's handhold, clenching my teeth to force my still hesitant feet down, one rung at a time.

I couldn't allow Shortbitten and Thierry to argue their way out of this. If they still had Theresa, she would be down there. If Theresa was gone, there would at least be the traces of our suffering, and the police's eggheads would find them—blood, DNA, and whatelse.

"She sure seems to know where she's going," Grafton said to Shortbitten as they followed me.

When I reached the bottom, I didn't hesitate, seized the large handle of the hold's metal door, and pulled. The lock unlatched with a click, and the door sighed as it opened to reveal the black cavern beyond.

The stench rolling out from the dark was a tangible thing, almost alive—worse than I remembered it, the scent of decay enriched by feces and urine, stark and vicious in its contrast to the fresh breath of the sea outside.

"Oh my God, what a smell," Grafton murmured behind me.

I reached for the light switch.