Chapter 3 — The Woman on the Yacht
Chapter 3 — The Woman on the Yacht
Julianne was smiling when the federal agents found her.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Not fear.
Not confusion.
Not grief.
A smile.
She sat inside a private interview room at the federal building with one ankle crossed over the other, wearing a cream-colored coat that probably cost more than my first car.
Her hair was perfectly styled.
Her nails were perfect.
Even the expression on her face looked rehearsed.
I stood outside the glass.
Agent Moore stood beside me.
“That’s her?”
“Yes.”
“The woman who was with my husband while my daughter was dying?”
“Yes.”
I watched Julianne pick up the cup of water in front of her.
She took a small sip.
Then smiled again.
I felt nothing.
That surprised me.
Two weeks earlier, I would have wanted to tear her apart.
Now?
She was simply another piece of evidence.
“Why is she smiling?”
Agent Moore looked through the glass.
“Because she believes she has an advantage.”
“What advantage?”
“She knows something we don't.”
I turned toward him.
“Then let's find out what.”
He nodded.
“We're going in.”
Julianne didn't look at me when I entered.
She looked at Agent Moore.
“I already told your people everything.”
Agent Moore sat across from her.
“No, Ms. Cross.”
She frowned.
“You haven't.”
“I've been very cooperative.”
“You've been very selective.”
Her smile disappeared.
I sat beside him.
Julianne finally looked at me.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she said:
“Maya.”
I stared at her.
“You knew my daughter was sick before David left.”
Her expression didn't change.
“I knew Lily had health problems.”
“Before the yacht?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“David told me.”
“When?”
She hesitated.
“Months ago.”
I leaned forward.
“Then why did you tell him to take the trip?”
“I didn't know she was dying.”
“You knew she was sick.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I was calling.”
“I knew you were upset.”
“You heard him say Lily might die.”
Julianne's eyes flickered.
“I heard him say it.”
“And you told him to stay.”
“I told him to take the break he had planned.”
“You told him to block me.”
“No.”
“You told him I was suffocating him.”
She looked at Agent Moore.
“Those were David's words.”
“Were they?”
“Yes.”
I stared at her.
“You were on that yacht.”
“Yes.”
“You were there when he received the hospital call.”
“Yes.”
“You were there when he rejected mine.”
“Yes.”
“You watched him choose champagne over his daughter.”
Julianne's jaw tightened.
“You weren't there.”
“No.”
My voice became quiet.
“I was at the hospital.”
She looked away.
I continued.
“I was holding Lily's hand.”
Silence.
“She was seven.”
Julianne swallowed.
“I know.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You don't.”
Agent Moore opened a folder.
“Let's start with December 19.”
Julianne looked at him.
“What happened December 19?”
“You accessed Lily Vance's medical records.”
Her face changed.
Only slightly.
But it was enough.
“I never accessed her records.”
“We have your credentials.”
“Someone used them.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You were in Chicago.”
“Yes.”
“You accessed the records from a hotel network.”
“I was traveling.”
“You accessed them at 2:14 a.m.”
“I couldn't sleep.”
“And then you downloaded them.”
“I don't remember.”
Agent Moore slid a photograph across the table.
A computer screen.
Her username.
Her password.
Her access log.
Julianne stared at it.
“You're saying this proves nothing.”
“It proves you accessed Lily's file.”
“No.”
“It proves your credentials were used.”
“That's different.”
“Who had your password?”
She hesitated.
“David.”
I looked at her.
“David had your password?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He managed some of my accounts.”
“Your medical portal?”
“No.”
“Then why did he have access?”
Julianne didn't answer.
Agent Moore leaned forward.
“Ms. Cross, you need to understand something.”
He tapped the folder.
“We aren't investigating an affair.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“We're investigating the death of a child.”
Julianne looked down.
For the first time, the confidence disappeared.
“I didn't kill Lily.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
Nobody had accused her of killing Lily.
Not yet.
I looked at Agent Moore.
He noticed it too.
“Why did you say that?”
Julianne went silent.
Agent Moore repeated:
“Why did you say that?”
“I know how this looks.”
“No.”
He leaned closer.
“You know more than you're saying.”
Julianne's eyes filled with tears.
“I loved David.”
I almost laughed.
“That doesn't answer anything.”
“He was unhappy.”
“With me?”
“Yes.”
“He told you that?”
“Yes.”
“He told you our marriage was over?”
“He said you were controlling.”
I stared at her.
“I was controlling?”
“He said you were obsessed with Lily.”
My hands clenched.
Agent Moore noticed.
“Continue.”
Julianne wiped her eyes.
“He said you made him feel guilty all the time.”
I whispered:
“He was Lily's father.”
“I know.”
“No.”
I looked directly at her.
“You don't.”
Agent Moore changed the subject.
“December 23.”
Julianne straightened.
“What about it?”
“The hospital called David at 6:18.”
“Yes.”
“He answered.”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“I don't remember.”
“You were sitting beside him.”
“Yes.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He said Lily was sick.”
“That's all?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you say she would probably be fine?”
Julianne froze.
I stared at her.
She looked at me.
“You heard that?”
“We recovered the recording.”
Her face went pale.
“I was trying to calm him down.”
“You weren't a doctor.”
“No.”
“You didn't know Lily.”
“I knew enough.”
“How?”
Julianne looked at the table.
Then she whispered:
“Because I had seen her medical records.”
The room went silent.
Agent Moore leaned back.
“Why?”
Julianne began crying.
“I was trying to help David.”
“With what?”
“I don't know.”
“You knew Lily had a genetic condition.”
“Yes.”
“You knew the insurance policy.”
She said nothing.
“You knew about the trust.”
Her head snapped up.
“What trust?”
Agent Moore watched her carefully.
“Interesting.”
Julianne realized her mistake.
“I meant—”
“You knew.”
“No.”
“You just reacted before I told you what trust.”
She closed her eyes.
I looked at her.
“You knew about Lily's inheritance.”
She whispered:
“Yes.”
“How?”
“David.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That Lily had money.”
“How much?”
“I don't know.”
“Try.”
She hesitated.
“Millions.”
My throat tightened.
“Was that why you were with him?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“I loved him.”
I shook my head.
“You loved what he promised you.”
She didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Agent Moore placed another document on the table.
“Do you recognize this?”
Julianne looked down.
It was a copy of David's life insurance amendment.
Her name appeared as beneficiary.
Her expression collapsed.
“I didn't know.”
“You signed as witness.”
“I was told it was a business document.”
“You witnessed a life insurance amendment without reading it?”
“Yes.”
“Convenient.”
She looked at me.
“I didn't know he changed it.”
“Why were you the beneficiary?”
“I don't know.”
“You were having an affair with him.”
“Yes.”
“He planned to divorce me.”
“Yes.”
“And then you were named beneficiary of a multi-million-dollar policy.”
“I didn't ask for it.”
“But you accepted it.”
Julianne didn't answer.
Agent Moore asked:
“When did you first learn about the policy?”
She whispered:
“December 20.”
I stared.
Three days before Lily died.
“Who told you?”
“David.”
“What did he say?”
“He said everything would be easier soon.”
My blood ran cold.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
“You didn't ask?”
“I thought he meant the divorce.”
“Did he mention Lily?”
Julianne hesitated.
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He said there was one obstacle.”
I leaned forward.
“What obstacle?”
Julianne looked at me.
“Lily.”
The word landed like a bullet.
I stood so quickly my chair scraped the floor.
Agent Moore caught my wrist.
“Maya.”
I stared at Julianne.
“What did he mean?”
“He didn't explain.”
“You're lying.”
“I swear.”
“You knew.”
“I didn't.”
“You knew my daughter was an obstacle.”
“I didn't know what he meant.”
“What did you think he meant?”
Julianne started crying again.
“I thought he meant custody.”
“Custody?”
“He said once you were gone, he could finally build the life he wanted.”
I felt sick.
“Once I was gone.”
“Yes.”
“He wanted me dead?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“He wanted you out.”
“How?”
“Divorce.”
I stared at her.
Julianne wiped her face.
“David said you would never leave voluntarily.”
I laughed bitterly.
“So he planned to force me.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don't know.”
Agent Moore looked at her.
“Think.”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“Someone changed Lily's medical report.”
Julianne stopped crying.
I saw it.
Fear.
Real fear.
Agent Moore noticed too.
“You know something.”
“No.”
“You know who Dr. Reed is.”
She stared at him.
“Who?”
“Lily's attending physician.”
“I don't.”
“You're lying.”
“I never met him.”
Agent Moore placed another photograph on the table.
Julianne looking at Dr. Reed.
At a restaurant.
Three months earlier.
Her face went white.
I stared at the photograph.
“You met him.”
“I don't remember.”
“You were having dinner together.”
“I don't remember.”
“Why?”
She looked toward the door.
“I can't.”
“Why can't you?”
“Because if I tell you, they'll kill me.”
The room went silent.
Agent Moore leaned forward.
“Who?”
Julianne's lips trembled.
“I don't know his name.”
“Whose name?”
“The man who hired David.”
My heart stopped.
“David was hired?”
She nodded.
“By whom?”
“I don't know.”
“What was he hired to do?”
Julianne looked at me.
Her eyes were filled with terror.
“To make sure you never inherited the money.”
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Agent Moore asked:
“How?”
Julianne shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“Try.”
“He said your father had left something behind.”
“What?”
“A trust.”
I felt cold.
“David was supposed to get control of it.”
“After I died?”
“Yes.”
“And Lily?”
“He said Lily was a problem.”
I closed my eyes.
Everything connected.
The document signed before Lily was born.
The protected inheritance.
The insurance policy.
The Bahamas.
The fifty calls.
The altered medical report.
And now Julianne.
Agent Moore asked:
“Who else knew?”
Julianne hesitated.
“Claire.”
David's assistant.
I looked at Agent Moore.
“Claire knew?”
“Yes.”
“What else did she know?”
Julianne whispered:
“She arranged the yacht.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Who paid for it?”
“David.”
“Who organized the medical records?”
“Claire.”
“Who changed the insurance policy?”
“Claire.”
My blood ran cold.
“Claire wasn't just his assistant.”
“No.”
“What was she?”
Julianne looked at me.
“She worked for your father.”
I stopped breathing.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“That's impossible.”
“She told me.”
“When?”
“After Lily died.”
“Why?”
“Because she was scared.”
“Of what?”
Julianne looked toward the door.
“Your father.”
I shook my head.
“My father is dead.”
Julianne's face changed.
She stared at me.
Then whispered:
“That's what everyone believes.”
The interview ended at 3:40 p.m.
Julianne was taken into federal custody.
Not charged.
Not yet.
But she was no longer free to leave.
Agent Moore walked with me through the hallway.
“You believe her?”
“Some of it.”
“Which part?”
“The part about Claire.”
He nodded.
“We're looking for her now.”
“She's gone.”
“We know.”
“Where?”
“We don't.”
I stopped walking.
“Then find her.”
“We will.”
I looked back toward the interview room.
“Julianne said my father was alive.”
Agent Moore didn't answer.
“You knew.”
“We had suspicions.”
“For how long?”
“Six months.”
I stared at him.
“You knew my father might be alive for six months.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn't tell me?”
“We didn't have proof.”
“You have proof now.”
He nodded.
“Possibly.”
“What does that mean?”
“We found something on the yacht.”
“What?”
“A photograph.”
“Of my father?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Agent Moore looked at me.
“A photograph of your father standing beside David.”
My heart stopped.
“When?”
“Four days before Lily died.”
I felt the world go silent.
Four days.
The same day Julianne accessed Lily's medical records.
The same day David's assistant made the first hidden transaction.
The same day someone had begun preparing for my daughter's death.
I whispered:
“Where was the photograph taken?”
Agent Moore answered:
“Chicago.”
My stomach dropped.
David had told me he was already in the Bahamas.
He wasn't.
He had been in Chicago four days before Lily died.
And if the photograph was real, then someone had lied about the yacht.
Someone had planned the trip.
Someone had known exactly when Lily would become sick.
And someone had wanted David far away when she died.
That evening, Agent Moore showed me the photograph.
I recognized my father instantly.
Older.
Thinner.
Gray hair.
But unmistakable.
He was standing beside David outside a private medical facility.
The date was visible.
December 19.
I stared at David's face.
He looked nervous.
My father looked calm.
Between them was a man in a white coat.
Dr. Samuel Reed.
Lily's doctor.
I couldn't breathe.
Agent Moore pointed to the back of the photograph.
There was handwriting.
One sentence.
The child is ready.
I looked up.
“What does that mean?”
Agent Moore didn't know.
But I did.
Because suddenly I remembered something Lily had said three weeks before she died.
She had been sitting at the kitchen table coloring.
She looked up at me and asked:
“Mommy, why does Daddy keep telling the doctor not to tell you?”
I had laughed.
I thought she was confused.
I had kissed her forehead.
I had told her:
“Daddy doesn't do that.”
She had simply gone back to coloring.
Now I understood.
David had been speaking to someone.
A doctor.
About Lily.
Behind my back.
And Julianne had been there.
My father had been there.
Claire had been there.
Maybe even Dr. Reed.
The yacht had never been a vacation.
It had been an alibi.
I looked at Agent Moore.
“Where is Dr. Reed?”
His expression changed.
“We're trying to locate him.”
“When did he disappear?”
“Last night.”
My blood turned cold.
“After Lily's report was altered?”
“Yes.”
I looked at the photograph again.
My father.
David.
Dr. Reed.
December 19.
Four days before my daughter died.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One message.
Stop looking for the woman on the yacht.
I stared at it.
Another message arrived.
She isn't the one you should be afraid of.
Then a third.
Your husband was only following orders.
My heart pounded.
I showed Agent Moore.
He immediately reached for his phone.
“Can you trace it?”
“We'll try.”
The screen lit up again.
One final message.
Ask Maya what happened the night her father disappeared.
I froze.
Because nobody had ever asked me that.
Not the police.
Not my mother.
Not David.
Not anyone.
And suddenly I remembered.
The night my father supposedly died, I had been awake.
I had heard him arguing with someone downstairs.
I had heard a car leave.
And then—
A gunshot.
I had spent sixteen years believing I had imagined it.
Now I wasn't so sure.
I looked at Agent Moore.
“I remember something.”
“What?”
“My father didn't disappear.”
He waited.
“I saw him leave.”
“With whom?”
I swallowed.
“I don't know.”
Then I remembered the voice.
A man's voice.
Young.
Calm.
Familiar.
I had heard it again years later.
At my wedding.
My husband's voice.
I looked at Agent Moore.
“David was there that night.”
May you like
And suddenly the woman on the yacht wasn't the most dangerous person in my husband's life.
She was only the first person willing to tell me the truth.
