All Dressed in White

66

Meghan sat at the edge of the hotel’s private pier, her feet dangling from the side. She had walked past several beautiful boats on her way to this spot at the end of the pier. The moonlight across the deep blue ocean water was beautiful, but her eyes were focused on the screen of her cell phone. She was completely stumped about what to say to her own husband.

A new text message appeared. It was Jeff again. Where are you? We need to talk.

Maybe she shouldn’t meet with Kate after all. She needed to smooth things over with Jeff. But Kate said she knew something about the TV show’s plans to railroad Jeff. Meghan needed to find out the details.

She looked over at the three boats docked at the pier. In the darkness, she couldn’t tell much about them except that they were large. She guessed they would be considered yachts, but she knew nothing about boats other than what she’d learned from the captain on their fishing excursion in the Bahamas.

What a perfect trip that was. She reminisced about their unofficial honeymoon. Jeff had organized every last detail, from champagne breakfasts to moonlit ocean swims. She shouldn’t leave him waiting any longer. She could call Kate from her room. She was about to stand up when she saw a person in her peripheral vision stepping onto the pier.

She turned, expecting to see Kate.

Even though the person wasn’t Kate, she began to smile. But as he came toward her, she realized that something was off. She’d known him for years, but this was an expression she’d never seen on his face before. She’d read somewhere that pregnant women develop a type of sixth sense to protect their unborn children from danger. Somehow she just knew. And he wasn’t supposed to be here.

If this gut feeling turned out to be right, there was no way she could get past him and back to the hotel. He was blocking her path on this narrow pier. Pretending to be unconcerned, she waved and then started to call 911. But he was walking toward her too quickly. She could never place the call in time. And if she were right, he would never let her keep her phone. It could be used to track down her location.

On impulse, she changed plans. She slipped her phone gently between two wood slats of the pier. A crossbeam beneath the boards held it in place. She had to hope he wouldn’t notice it there.

She stood up, deciding that she had a better chance of fighting back on her feet.

“Hey there,” she said, praying with every fiber of her being that her instincts were wrong.

Then she saw the gun. There was no way to fight. She placed one hand protectively on her belly as he guided her along the pier and then shoved her onto the yacht. As she felt a sharp prick in the side of her neck, she prayed that someone would connect the dots between her phone and what was happening to her.

And then everything went black.