Chapter 41

Avery scanned the room,taking in the details for the first time. The windowless space was large, outfitted with a wall of bunks, lockers, a rudimentary kitchen, and shelf upon shelf of packaged foods. The area was clearly designed to house the ship’s small crew for days, or maybe weeks at a time.

“No signs of a struggle,” she said, her voice still shaky. “Looks like he was taken by surprise.”

The smell of blood and gunpowder hung heavy in the air, making her nose itch. She could taste the coppery tang of it on her tongue, and she had to fight the urge to gag.

“Single shot, close range,” Mason said, his voice clinical.

A chill ran down her spine. Whoever had done this was likely still on the ship, maybe even watching them right now.

She forced herself to focus, to take in every detail of the scene. The angle of the body, the placement of the wound, the way the blood had pooled around him.

“No shell casings,” she said, her voice steady. “Either the killer used a revolver, or they policed their brass.”

Mason nodded, his eyes scanning the room. “No signs of forced entry, either,” he said, his voice low. “Which means the killer had a key, or they were let in.”

She nodded. “There’s no way we would have heard shots over the noise of the cranes.”

“I’ll use the drones. Check every inch of the ship,” Tai announced.

Mason turned to her, his face grim. “You need to preserve the chain of evidence. Stay with the body. Start documenting the crime scene. I’m heading out to search the ship. The shooter’s probably still on board.”

“Be careful,” she warned.

He smiled, baring white teeth. “Right back atcha.”

Mason disappeared through the doorway. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, and started cataloguing the scene.

She moved methodically, taking in every detail. The smell of blood and gunpowder was overwhelming, but she forced herself to focus. She noted the position of the body, the placement of the wound, the way the blood had pooled.

The sound of the cranes outside was deafening, the clanging and banging of metal on metal reverberating through the walls. Definitely no way they would have heard the shot.

She was just about to start photographing the scene when a shadow fell across the doorway behind her. She whirled around, her hand already reaching for her gun, but it was too late.

A solid form tackled her to the ground, knocking the wind out of her. She struggled, trying to break free, but her attacker was too strong.

She felt the cold metal of a gun barrel press against her temple, and her blood ran cold. This was it. This was how she was going to die.

She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. But the shot never came.

Instead, she heard a familiar voice, low and urgent in her ear. “Avery, it’s me. Don’t move.”