Page 70 of Deposed

Two male crew members blocked the entrance. “No entry, guys. It’s a private party.”

“Our classmates are in there,” I said. “We know the girls are being sick, and need to see what’s happened to them.”

The larger of the males, who wore a pair of thick-framed glasses, folded his arms across his chest. “Sorry, but the captain says no one’s allowed to board.”

“Did you at least call an ambulance?” asked Edward.

The crew members exchanged guilty looks and didn’t reply.

“For fuck’s sake!” Henry barreled through the two men, knocking them aside. Edward rushed after him with me at his heels and with Blake taking up the rear with Duncan.

The moment I stepped into the boat’s interior, the acrid stench of vomit filled my nostrils, making me gag. Clapping my hand over my mouth, I stepped aside for Blake and Duncan to pass. We stood at a mezzanine level that looked down on a wooden dance floor with a bar at one end. Tables and chairs ran along the sides, underneath where we stood. Masses of girls either sat at the chairs or knelt on their hands and knees. Each one of them was vomiting or had recently thrown up.

Henry pulled out his phone and spoke to the 999 operator.

After scanning the dance floor for signs of a bleached blonde, I remembered Charlotte had copied my hair color. I looked again but found no sign of her. Or of Alice. I muttered, “Does anyone know first aid?”

“A little.” Duncan walked toward a metal stairwell. “We’d better check on the girls and see if any of them need to be put in the recovery position.”

We all followed after him, but when we reached the bottom of the stairs, a group of female crew members assured us they had called the ambulances and that the girls were safe. Sirens blared from the distance, and we trudged up the stairs and waited on the mezzanine.

A team of four paramedics stepped into the boat and froze. One of them stepped out, presumably to call for more help, and the others tended to the girls. Moments later, a pair of policemen arrived, who made us wait outside.

I sucked in relatively fresh air and stood with the others by the pier, watching a procession of girls being wheeled or walked up the ramp. Each of them trembled uncontrollably and looked as pale as specters. I swallowed hard. “How could she do this?”

“Do you really think she’s capable of something so heinous?” asked Duncan. “Any one of those boys could have spiked the girls’ cocktails.”

My gaze turned to the group of boys huddled up on the walkway. Eight or so policemen walked among them, taking down details in their notebooks.

Edward wrapped an arm around my waist. “Are you alright?”

“Just horrified,” I replied.

A photographer I recognized from the Saturday Correspondent strolled down the ramp, taking photos of the aftermath. The sight of him hovering around like a vulture sent spikes of irritation across my skin. Ignoring the little voice in the back of my mind calling me a hypocrite, I broke away from Edward and approached him. “How did you get here so quickly?”

He flicked his head at the two crew members Henry had pushed aside. “That lot told me.”

That’s when I noticed they both wore thick glasses. I would bet any amount that Tom’s van was parked in a back street, having driven on the roads parallel to the river during its cruise. My hands balled into fists. If the Correspondent had known Charlotte would drug schoolgirls, why didn’t they do something to stop it?

I was about to walk over and speak to them when a paramedic wheeled a girl with hair the exact shade as mine. Her head was bowed, and her hair covered most of her upper body, but there wasn’t a trace of vomit in that long hair or on her skirt or on her bare legs.

“Charlotte.”

She turned her head up at me. Then her eyes widened, and she leaped out of the wheelchair and bolted up the ramp.

Chapter 24

Charlotte’s four-inch heels clanked up the ramp, and the muscles in her thighs and calves rippled with each rapid movement. For someone in such ridiculous footwear, she made surprising progress. Holding my aching ribs, I chased after her amidst the cheers and the catcalls of the boys being interviewed by the police.

“Emilia!” Blake held my wrist.

“Come on!” I continued running with him by my side. “Overtake me. She’s getting away.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he replied. “Henry’s right behind us, and I doubt he’ll want you alone either.”

Somehow, between the ramp and the waterfront, a wide restaurant-lined sidewalk, Charlotte had taken off her shoes and sprinted ahead. I growled my frustration. Why were the boys being so overprotective at a time like this? We ran past a row of parked ambulances and police vans, at the end of which stood a black cab.

Charlotte waved her arm. “Taxi! Taxi!”