Stowaway by Emma Bennett Page B

begins to scan them.
    “You are wanted
for fraud? And, theft?” He looks down at me warily, like I’m the criminal.
    “No, my roommate is.
Keep reading. She stole my identity, along with a lot of other people’s, and
did those things. That guy,” I say, pointing to the unconscious man slumped in
the shadows, “is my ticket to freedom. That is, if you don’t kill me first.”
    He hands back my
papers after verifying my claim, drops my wrist and lets out a long sigh.
    “What do you mean,
if I don’t kill you first? You actually think I could do that. Or, killed
either George or Mario?”
    I sit up
cross-legged, and also cross my arms, hugging the file safely to my chest.
    “You were hanging
around that night. Awfully convenient, don’t you think?”
    “I was at the
casino until five minutes before you walked in trying to cheer myself up. But I
lost. Certainly, not enough time to dash to the gallery, kill someone, then hide in an upper deck lounge. Look, I have receipts,
see? Go ask anyone!”
    He pulls a wad of
crumpled, time-stamped tickets from his wallet. It looked like he had bad luck
with the ponies. But, sure enough, he has an air-tight alibi.
    “Fine.” I hand his stubs back.
    “Fine? That’s all I get after you accuse me of double homicide? Well, what’s to keep
me from thinking you did it?” he asks angrily.
    “Where’s my
motivation? I hopped on this ship to hide from that guy over there, not do
something stupid that would only get me more attention. Besides, you went
through my things that night, remember? Did you find anything incriminating?”
    “Fine,” he sighs.
“You are right. Fighting is getting us nowhere. Let’s call a truce.”
    “Fine.”
    Silence hangs
between us. Where does a conversation go after we accuse each other of double
homicide? Luke finally thinks of something to say.
    “Too bad there’s
no evidence to give us direction. A body would be convenient about now.”
    “Well, do I have
some good news for you,” I say, pointing over his shoulder to the storage door.
He walks with me over there, and clicks on a small flashlight that he pulls
from his pocket. George’s body is immediately illuminated. A small, deep
puncture wound is clearly visible on the man’s neck. I didn’t notice it with
the dim glow of my cell phone earlier as the body was falling on me.
    Luke’s flashlight hand shakes when he sees the wound. I can’t look away, for
the first time really getting a good view of the body. Deeper inside, in the
shadows, I also see the remains of Mario.
    I realize whoever
murdered these men knew exactly what they were doing. The one from the art
gallery was executed with surgical precision. There’s so little mess. The
killer must also clean up efficiently, judging by the state of the gallery when
I saw it afterward. Even the platform room is eerily tidy.
    That’s when it
hits me. This same person is after me. He is calculating and professional. I
don’t stand a chance. I feel nauseous.

 
    Chapter 8

 
    “We have to report
this,” Luke finally says, after I finish throwing up and calm down. He held my
hair out of my face the entire time and found a mint for me in his pocket.
Chomping on it, I walk back into the storage room and take photos on my phone.
He is right, and I don’t want to lose proof of these bodies again.
    I finally answer
him when I am finished.
    “What if whoever
we tell is working with the killer? Or, is the killer? No, these two have been
here for a day undisturbed. We have to leave them a little while longer until
we find someone safe we can report this to.”
    Luke knows I’m
right. He nods his head and clicks the door latch back tight. He wipes away any
fingerprints with a handkerchief, then we start away.
Hopefully, the killer will never know we’ve been here.
    “ Unnnh !”
    The groan behind
us stops us both.
    Right. Smith. His eyes are still closed, but that won’t be
the case long.
    “Maggie, we have
to do something with him!