Deadly Reunion

by June Shaw

  Chapter 17

  All of us along the ship’s port side watched action in the water.

  I stood among the thickening crowd in the crispy cold, trying to hold onto a surreal feeling of interest but not attachment. A sharp wind whipped against us. Our ship had stopped between assorted jagged dots of ice. A platform flapped open at the ship’s bottom.

  Passengers around me quieted.

  I wished I’d brought my phone, yet even as I heard people speaking on theirs and saw them snapping pictures, I could not ask to use one. My interest and concern speared in on the person in the water. If Gil or one of my school friends was not in his or her room, I did not want to know.

  Most people on this ship would be aware of this tragic event by now. They’d be standing on their balconies and various decks with outside walkways to watch what transpired. I’d want to watch unfolding events from a lower deck but could not tear myself away from the rail. The elevators must be filled, taking lots of time. I wished I were in shape to run down flights of stairs.

  The sound of a small motor came to life. A boat emerged from where a platform opened.

  People roared. “They’re going to get the body,” a man said.

  The body. Was Jane lying on the ice?

  It couldn’t be Gil.

  I squeezed my lips together to keep from crying out.

  The boat held a few staff members. From what I could see, they all wore white.

  Was one of them Gil’s uncle? How upsetting it would be if he found the person out there was his nephew.

  “What’s wrong? You need to get inside,” a man said. The ends of his long red hair flew into his face as he leaned toward me, grabbing my arms before I hit the floor.

  “Why do I need to get inside?” I wanted to ask, but all that came from my mouth was a jumble of sounds of the knocking of my teeth against each other. I trembled so hard from fear that I couldn’t get my balance to stand straight.

  “Give her room,” the redheaded man said. He and a small man helped me sit and not fall on my face. People around backed away. Many glanced at me but then scooted to the side to watch much more interesting action in the water.

  “I need to see,” I uttered, pointing toward where the small boat headed.

  “You need to get where it’s warmer,” the second man helping me said.

  “We’ll get you inside.” The redhead scooped his arms under my shoulders, and with his assistant, got me to my feet. “You might be sick, but the doctor’s probably too busy with the body out there to see about someone with fever. We’ll ask the nurse.”

  They gripped my arms, walking me toward the elevators.

  “No!” I yelled. I got in the redhead’s face. “I need to see him!”

  Both men backed down, possibly thinking I was a maniac. At the moment, I was. If Gil was on that ice, I needed to see him, to be close for him.

  I dashed back toward the rail. People let me through.

  Some men from the rescue boat knelt on the ice, checking the person lying on it. Was that person alive? I wanted to be down there to know for myself. Was it Jane? Gil?

  A giant tremble swept through me. I swayed, then gripped the rail, struggling to steady myself. Glancing at the men who’d helped me, I speared them with my glare, threatening lethal harm if they tried to take me away.

  They backed down, apprehensive eyes letting me know they would let me fall rather than try to help.

  In the water the rescue boat headed back toward our ship. I couldn’t see clearly but made out some of the men in white in that boat bending to work on a person lying beneath them.

  I and hundreds of others leaned over the rail as far as possible to watch the rescue boat enter the hatch at the bottom of our ship. Its platform lifted and shut.

  Passengers remained quiet for long moments. We waited, hoping to hear exactly what had happened. Who did they pick up?

  No announcement came.

  The boat shifted. We were moving again. Everyone started talking.

  “Do you have any idea of who that was?” an elderly woman asked, skimming faces. No one volunteered an answer.

  “Was that a male or female?” another woman asked, and people shrugged.

  “Did someone jump?” a teen asked.

  “You hear of women stabbing their new husbands and throwing them over,” a thirtyish woman said, making me hope our newlyweds were all right.

  Staff members who took the person inside must have headed for the Intensive Care Unit, where the doctor and other medical staff would perform emergency care.

  “No use trying to get an elevator now,” someone ahead of me told others. “Everybody up here will be trying to get down somewhere. We’d just as soon watch the sights and go downstairs later.”

  I wasn’t interested in sights or sounds, unless I saw all the people I loved or heard they were all right. I meshed into the gathering waiting for elevators. The air became sparse in my tiny area, surrounded by a crush of people. Many remained silent. Some kept guessing about the body.

  “They picked up a person,” I said so all around could hear. “We don’t know whether that person died.”

  The speaker system crackled, followed by the blare of a man’s solemn voice. “We are certain most of you know someone was found on an iceberg near the ship.” A moment of silence ensued, as though showing reverence. “Our security team will begin working to determine what happened. And our full medical staff is working hard to help the person.”

  I felt slight relief to hear this man say person. I hoped he would soon mention whether that person was male or female.

  “I guess that’s supposed to make us feel better,” a woman near me said.

  “Hush,” I hissed. “Listen.” I pointed back, as though I knew exactly where the voice of the man on the speaker was coming from.

  He continued on the speaker. “We can assure you that all care will be taken to secure the safety of all of our passengers. Please let a staff member know if you need any assistance,” he said, causing people around me to nod at each other. They appeared pleased to know they would remain safe. “We hope all of you will keep the person who was in the water in your thoughts. And if you believe in prayers, please pray for our injured guest.”

  Injured! I’d never heard such a powerful adjective.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, focusing all of my attention on prayer. I prayed like mad, apologizing to a God I’d too often taken for granted. I used such intensity I missed hearing an elevator door open. I only noticed when a person on it said they were full.

  I snapped my eyes open. The elevator door shut. I cursed.

  Sorry, I whispered to the God I’d just said all of those nice things to. But I believed He was kind and understanding. He would certainly understand how badly I wanted to get in that elevator to ride down to the medical center to check on Gil.

  My heart felt empty, my body stiff as I thought of his name, almost certain he was the victim the medical team had retrieved from that ice.

  “I need to get through. I need to get on the next elevator,” I said. Pushing forward, I found people letting me through. Finally I stood in a tiny space.

  “Cealie. Hey, Cealie,” a voice near me cried.

  Jane’s voice.

  She waved from the crowd five feet away from me.

  “Oh, wow, it’s you, Jane. I am so glad to see you. I was afraid you’d fallen off the boat from where you were running.”

  “Couldn’t you see who it was?”

  People around watched her, faces anxious, all waiting for a name.

  I dreaded hearing his name. But needed to know. “Was it Gil?” I quit breathing, waiting for her answer.

  “No.”

  I could have shouted alleluia. Instead I cried, “Yes!”

  Jane’s eyes squeezed tighter. “They picked up Tetter.”

  Chapter 18

  I couldn’t believe my good friend had been the person lying on the edge of that iceberg.

  “Oh my God, Jan
e,” I cried. We stood feet apart, both squeezed in the crowd waiting for an elevator. The air was cold, but I was smashed inside the group, warm from not getting much air, hotter still from hearing this news about our buddy. “Are you sure it was Tetter?”

  Passengers turned their faces from me to Jane. All wanted to learn everything they could about the person who went overboard.

  A young woman pulled out a pad and pen. She eyed us and appeared to take notes of whatever we said.

  I did not want to say much with this crowd listening. Some of them might be reporters. Surely many would call, e-mail, and text others, sensationalizing the event.

  A light flashed in my face. And then another. Folks around us appeared to take ideas from the first ones snapping pictures of Jane and me. We knew the woman who went overboard.

  I turned my face forward, almost against the shut elevator door.

  “Hey, look this way,” a male teenager called.

  “Over here,” another one said.

  I cringed. Nausea swept through me.

  “How do you know the victim?” a man near me asked.

  I ignored him so I wouldn’t slam my fist up his nose.

  “How about you?” he asked, and I knew he directed his question to Jane and that most of the faces around us swerved from me toward her.

  “None of your business,” she said.

  I inwardly cried Yes. I didn’t want to be ugly to anyone since I figured most of them just cared. And like most of us, they were curious. But I did not want them so curious about my friend. A ding let us know the elevator door was opening.

  I stepped inside, more at ease when Jane grabbed my arm. “Hey, friend,” she said, giving it a squeeze.

  I wrapped my arms around her, snuggled my head against hers, and whimpered. “I can’t believe it.”

  “I know, me neither.”

  “She has to be okay,” I said, and Jane nodded.

  “Ooh, look,” someone with us said in a quiet tone before snapping a picture of us. Others followed suit.

  “Okay, stop it!” I snarled.

  All picture taking stopped. People stepped off at different decks, asking if we wanted the deck where they stopped. I felt certain most of them wished we’d get off with them so they might have us alone to question about our buddy who’d gone overboard.

  We kept descending. Those with us quieted. I felt safe enough to peek at the few who remained. Only an adolescent freckled girl with a small boy with orange hair.

  “Hi,” I told them, trying for a friendly smile, only able to create a tiny one.

  The girl held up a red phone and snapped my picture. She snapped one of Jane.

  “Turncoat,” I said.

  We stopped at deck four. The girl grabbed her brother’s hand and darted out. Maybe she was scared we’d dash after her and yank her camera away, a consideration crossing my mind. The door shut. Jane and I looked at each other. Neither spoke. I imagined she felt like I did, drained from seeing a person we deeply cared about lying on the ice. And then trying to stop strangers from questioning us or snapping our pictures.

  My friend and I weren’t popular. We just knew the deceased.

  Deceased? Was she? Our friend, everybody’s buddy Tetter Hargroove, could not be dead.

  I urged the elevator to rush. It carried us to deck three. We ran to the medical center.

  Security guards with stern faces stretched their arms and raised their hands. “You can’t come in here,” the tallest of them said.

  “What about medical emergencies?” I asked, wondering what emergency I might create. Chest pains? No one could dispute that. In fact, anxiety made my chest tight.

  “If you have an emergency, please phone this center. Someone will direct you on how to handle your situation.” He yanked a page out of a rack holding papers on the wall. “This gives the number to call and tells what to do for common complaints.”

  I grabbed his paper, keeping eye contact. “And does it tell you what to do if your best friend falls off the ship and lands on an iceberg?”

  “She was your friend?”

  “Was?” The word caught in my throat. Its meaning slammed against my brain.

  “It’s only a term,” he said. “I mean is she your friend?”

  “She is, so let us go in there to see her.”

  “You can’t. The doctor is working on her. You can’t help him.”

  “We can try,” Jane said.

  “We can touch her and call her name, telling Tetter it’s us so she’ll remember. We all finished high school together,” I said with the tiniest smile.

  “Then you need to go up to the library. A security team is questioning people who knew her or saw her last.”

  Last. What exactly did that mean? Muscles across my back knotted.

  The guard who hadn’t spoken to us before told us what deck the library was on.

  Jane and I and rode up to the library’s deck, quietly holding hands. The door opened, and we looked at each other, not moving. I feared once I left this space and entered the room with many security guards, I would be asked questions too painful to answer. And I might learn things I did not want to know.

  Tightening my grip of Jane’s hand, I moved with her into the wide corridor.

  Too many onlookers crowded outside the library, probably waiting for any information they could get about the person who’d fallen.

  Or jumped? Or been shoved?

  Some in the crowd pointed at us. Many snapped our pictures. A guard stood outside the shut library door, shoulders wide and arms akimbo.

  “We are her friends,” I told him. “We’re with Tetter, the woman who fell.”

  He moved aside, tapped twice on the library door, and opened it. “Please go in,” he told us.

  I gulped, attempting to moisten my mouth so I’d be able to speak. Letting go of Jane’s hand, I stepped into the room where I wanted to hear but dreaded knowing the fate of my beloved friend.

  Gil!” I said, trying to rush across the room to him.

  A solemn guard at a small table lifted a hand to stop me. “I need to see some ID.” He produced a pad on which he’d written other names and info.

  “I’m Cealie Gunther. I went to school with the woman you all picked up from the iceberg.” I handed him my driver’s license and sailing card.

  He took forever to write the information, while I peered helplessly at Gil. He stood beside a large rack of mysteries. His gray eyes met my gaze, his face giving away nothing about Tetter’s fate. Possibly he didn’t know it.

  I did a quick scan of the room.

  A number of passengers sat on sofas and chairs. All looked apprehensive and checked us out, maybe wanting to learn about our connection to Tetter, exactly like I was wondering about them.

  And why was Gil here?

  “You’re with her?” the guard asked Jane, returning my license and card. He put a hand up in front of me, which seemed to mean I should wait with her.

  “Yes, we both went to school with Tetter.” Jane handed him the card with her information, glanced at Gil, and gave him a little wave.

  Tight lipped, he nodded in return.

  The officer gave back Jane’s things, and I stepped aside, ready to rush to Gil. I needed his arms around me and his sturdy chest on which to rest my head.

  “Come this way, please,” the officer told me, extending his hand toward the door we had entered.

  I peered back at Gil and shrugged. He gave me a small reassuring smile before I followed the officer out the door. The crowd parted for us, making comments. I kept my eyes forward. I did not want to see faces of people I would try to avoid later. My leader spoke into a small device I couldn’t see well and said words I couldn’t make out.

  Three rooms down the hall, a door opened to Conference Room C. A bulldog of an officer with unyielding eyes let me in. My guide departed.

  “I’m Mitchell Hayden, in charge of investigating what happened to your friend. These are members of our security team.” H
e swept his arm around to indicate men and women in uniform around the room. I’d seen many of them getting information from passengers when we entered and left the ship. One was a bartender at the Ginger Bar. “Please sit,” Hayden said, pulling a wooden chair back from a table.

  I sat. He took the chair next to me, a tape recorder, pen, and pad at his place. “Do I have your permission to tape our conversation?” he asked, and I nodded. He pressed a button on the recorder. Saying his name and mine and the date, he again asked for permission to tape what we said, and I agreed.

  “Why am I in here alone?” I asked, then glanced at all of the other guards and back at him. “You know what I mean.”

  “We’re questioning people who had some connection to our guest who was found on the iceberg—people who knew her and those who might have seen her last.”

  “Tetter Hargroove. She’s my good friend. How is she?”

  Lips tight, he sucked a breath of air in through his nostrils. “I’m not at liberty to say at this time.”

  “Then at what time can you say?” I shouted, shoving my hands into the air. “At nine o’clock? Ten? When? She’s one of my dearest friends,” I said and considered that statement. I’d seldom seen Tetter since our graduation. “At least she was in high school. I need to know if she’ll be all right.”

  His Adam’s apple slid up and down as he bided time. His gaze remained speared against mine. “I can tell you the doctor is still examining your friend.”

  Tears bit my eyes. Sudden relief flooded through me when he called her my friend, not the body.

  “We are questioning people one at a time,” he continued, “and want to know everything you can tell us that might help in our investigation of what happened to her.”

  Words bubbled from my mouth. I told about when I’d first met Tetter in ninth grade. Jane had called me over to come into this circle of kids in the schoolyard at recess. Tetter was there, having everyone’s attention, a sparkle in her eye as she told a joke, and all of us had laughed. She had given me a huge smile. Later that week, I’d seen her in the hall and introduced myself. She’d hugged me and made me, at fifteen, glad I attended that school. She’d been the life of the crowd, cheering up everyone, a friend to every person she met.