Chapter 4 - The Officer Named in the Note
I did not confront Eric Voss.
That was the first smart decision I made after finding his name on Daniel Hartman’s note.
The second was pretending I hadn’t found the note at all.
Tessa led me to a smaller balcony cabin two decks above the suite.
She handed me a temporary keycard.
“You’ll be safe here.”
I studied her face.
“Who can access this room?”
“Housekeeping supervisors. Security. Senior officers.”
“So Voss.”
Her mouth tightened.
“Yes.”
I set my purse on the bed.
The black wireless backup device from our honeymoon cabin was still taped beneath the bedside table downstairs.
I had wanted to take it.
I hadn’t.
Removing it could let Gregory claim I altered evidence.
Instead, I had photographed its serial number.
I had learned long ago that winning a fight and proving what happened in a fight were two different skills.
Tessa lingered near the door.
“Mrs. Hartman, I probably shouldn’t say this.”
“Then don’t say it unless you’re sure.”
She took a breath.
“Officer Voss knew your husband’s name before I told him which cabin called.”
I looked at her.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Gregory call security?”
“No. I did.”
That mattered.
Tessa had heard a crash from the corridor and reported it.
Yet Voss arrived already knowing Gregory.
I thanked her and locked the door after she left.
Then I called the only person whose name I desperately needed explained.
Dana.
Straight to voicemail.
I tried again.
Nothing.
I sent a message.
CALL ME NOW. EMERGENCY.
My fingers hovered over the screen.
Then I added:
DID YOU WITNESS A POWER OF ATTORNEY FOR GREGORY?
I watched the message deliver.
No reply.
I opened my work cloud account.
Still active.
I downloaded copies of my travel schedule, corporate badge logs, and the Jacksonville audit report from the day the forged documents were supposedly notarized.
Proof.
Simple.
Clean.
Hard to argue with.
Then I photographed the number 8142 written on my wrist.
A strange feeling made me stop.
My purse.
The zipper was open.
I always closed it.
Every time.
Habit from deployment.
Habit from airports.
Habit from crowded terminals.
I emptied it onto the bed.
Wallet.
Lipstick.
Sunglasses.
Passport holder.
Empty.
I froze.
My passport was gone.
So was the small encrypted flash drive I carried while traveling.
That drive contained backup documents relating to my Calder shares.
Not the physical certificates.
Those were in a bank vault in Florida.
But the drive held scanned copies, shareholder agreements, voting schedules, and correspondence regarding an upcoming board vote.
I had packed it because I planned to review the documents during the quiet days at sea.
Gregory knew that.
I checked the inner pocket.
My emergency credit card was gone too.
Someone had searched the purse carefully enough to take only items that mattered.
I called Tessa.
She answered immediately.
“Has anyone entered this cabin?”
“Not since I gave you the key.”
“What about our original suite while Gregory and I were giving statements?”
A pause.
“I can check the service log.”
“Please.”
I ended the call and examined my keycard envelope.
There was a faint handwritten notation near the bottom.
SECURITY TRANSFER—VOSS.
He had chosen this room.
Not Tessa.
My phone buzzed.
Dana.
I answered before the first full ring.
“Dana?”
Silence.
Then breathing.
“Dana?”
A man spoke.
“Stop calling this number.”
I stood.
“Who is this?”
The call ended.
I tried redialing.
Dana’s phone had been switched off.
Thirty seconds later, Tessa called back.
Her voice was no longer cautious.
It was frightened.
“Mrs. Hartman, somebody entered your original suite while you were with security.”
“Who?”
“The log shows a guest key.”
“Gregory’s?”
“No.”
I sat very still.
“Which cabin?”
She hesitated.
May you like
“Eight-one-four-two.”
📖 Find out who used the cabin 8142 key while I was questioned—and why the passenger name attached to that room connected directly to Gregory’s family in CHAPTER 5. 👇
