Take Me Home for Christmas. Brenda Novak

anyone notice if he fell overboard?

      “I keep thinking he has to be here somewhere.” Dressed in cut-offs and a white tank, Alexa leaned on the railing as her troubled eyes ran over the deck, the bar, the stairs going below. “I’m so worried.”

      Sophia didn’t want her to have to accept the worst quite yet. She didn’t want her to suffer at all. Alexa was the only reason she’d remained in her loveless marriage. Skip had told her she’d never see her daughter again if she left, and she believed him. He had the support of a rich and powerful family who lived in the same small town they did. With her own mother diagnosed with schizophrenia and her father dead, she had no one. “He might turn up.”

      A fresh tear rolled down Lexi’s cheek. “But you heard the captain. He said there’s no way Dad could’ve reached shore. No one could swim that far.”

      The captain would’ve been right had he been talking about anyone else. But he didn’t know Skip, not like she did. Skip could do anything he set his mind to. Sophia had never met such a strong-willed individual. Or such a controlling one.

      She pulled her daughter into a hug. “We’ve contacted the U.S. Consulate, and they’ve called the police. We’ll be docking at Rio to wait while they check the city and the beaches. We won’t leave without him. Let’s not give up hope too soon.”

      Alexa’s head bumped against Sophia’s chest as she nodded, but she was obviously struggling to believe those measures would do any good. She couldn’t picture her father jumping over the side in the middle of the night and swimming for shore—and neither could Sophia.

      The captain approached. “I’ve secured a slip at Marina de Gloria, Mrs. DeBussi,” he said. “We should be in port in less than thirty minutes.”

      “Thank you, Captain Armstrong.”

      His nod had the same effect as a salute. He turned away, but then he paused.

      “Is there anything else?” she asked.

      “I just—” he faced her again “—I wanted to warn you.”

      A sense of foreboding chilled her despite the ninety-degree weather. “About...”

      “The police. When I spoke to them on the radio, they...they asked me if...” He cleared his throat as his eyes flicked to Alexa, and she nudged her daughter toward the stairs.

      “Lexi, why don’t you go below and check our bedroom one more time, okay? Make sure everything of Daddy’s is there, even his shaving kit.”

      “We know it’s there,” she protested.

      Sophia gave her another little push. “Check again, will you?”

      Reluctantly, her daughter headed to the stairs, casting a frown over one shoulder before she disappeared from view.

      “What is it, Captain Armstrong?” Sophia asked.

      “They had questions about your marriage, Mrs. DeBussi. If I’ve ever seen the two of you fight, that sort of thing.”

      He hadn’t seen them fight. No one had. Skip kept up appearances at all costs. His reputation as the man who had everything meant more to him than something as malleable as the truth. He never grew violent when someone else was around, and that included Lexi. If he got upset, he simply punished Sophia later.

      But anyone who was astute could no doubt feel the tension. Sophia was terrified of him. Even when he wasn’t overtly abusive, she endured many small but vicious reprisals.

      “And you told them...what?” Her heart thumped so loudly she was afraid he could hear it. Skip wouldn’t like this intrusion into their personal lives, so why had he left her vulnerable to it?

      “That I don’t know anything about your private life. But...I want to reassure you that even if I did, I wouldn’t speak of it.”

      She found his loyalty comforting, especially because she would never have taken it for granted. She barely knew him, had hardly ever spoken to him. It didn’t matter that he was old enough to be her father, or that he was married himself. Her husband was too jealous. Any interaction would’ve risked the captain’s job. “Thank you, Captain Armstrong.”

      “You’re welcome. I have the utmost respect for you, Mrs. DeBussi. But...”

      She pulled the gauzy white scarf she’d paired with her summer sheath dress tighter. “Yes?”

      He lowered his voice. “You should be prepared. They will ask you the same thing.”

      Suddenly she grasped why he was telling her this. “You don’t mean... They don’t think I might’ve harmed Mr. DeBussi?” The irony of anyone suspecting her of hurting him almost made her laugh.

      “They have to rule out that possibility.”

      She could understand why, of course. But how would she convince them? Although the U.S. Consulate was acting as a liaison, she’d be dealing with foreign police; she couldn’t even speak their language. What if they arrested her?

      Her face must’ve betrayed her panic because the captain took her elbow and led her to a chaise. It was nothing he’d risk doing in her husband’s presence, but she was grateful for his kindness.

      “They won’t be able to prove anything, Mrs. DeBussi,” he said. “You just need to remain strong and insistent.”

      They won’t be able to prove anything? What did that mean? That he suspected her—but didn’t blame her? She dared not ask him to clarify. Forcing a smile, she said, “Of course.”

      If only “strong” felt like a possibility. She’d been strong once, even willful and rebellious. She regretted a great many things about those days, had been paying for her sins ever since. She considered living with Skip to be part of her penance. But the one attribute she’d lost that she wished she’d retained was her fighting spirit.

      Maybe it was there, somewhere. But having a child had completely disarmed her.

      2

      Sophia slipped out of Alexa’s room. She was finally asleep, and Sophia was grateful. It had been a long, hard day. Although she could scarcely believe it, there’d been no word from Skip. As promised, the police had met them at noon, when they docked at the marina. While a handful of crime-scene techs went through the boat, searching for blood or any other clue, an investigator had spoken to her. In a heavy Portuguese accent, he’d asked all the questions one might expect under the circumstances.

      And Sophia had lied in response to almost every one of them.

      What made you decide to take a trip to Rio?

      Where better to celebrate our anniversary? We’ve been meaning to get away for months.

      Do you consider you and your husband to be a happy couple?

      Oh, yes. We’ve never been more in love.

      Is there anyone, maybe a member of the crew, who might’ve been angry with your husband?

      Of course not. Skip is wonderful, well-liked by everyone.

      Her muscles had ached with tension, but she dared not tell the truth, especially when she was asked who might want him dead. She was pretty sure she was the only one. Mr. Armstrong’s three mates were new hires. They’d met Skip at the beginning of the voyage so they’d had very little time to get acquainted. And although it was possible the captain, the cook and the maid found him as egotistical and overbearing as she did, without him they wouldn’t have a job. None of them had any reason to push him into the ocean.

      So where had he gone? They had no more answers now than before they’d docked. But, thank God, the day was over and she had the night to try to recover.

      Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she went up on deck and gazed out at the city. Rio was lit up like an amusement park, but it was a lonely sight as she sat on the Legacy so far