What the Water Took

Elena sat on the dock where Marcos's sailboat was found empty three months ago. The harbor water lapped against pilings green with age, the same color as the last text she'd received from him. 'Meeting a friend for drinks,' it had read. That friend was Sophie, his college roommate, who had spent two hours at Elena's side during the funeral, holding her hand, bringing casseroles, becoming the very lifeline Elena needed in the aftermath of sudden, impossible loss.

Now Sophie's number lit up Elena's iPhone again, just as it had every night since the memorial service. Elena answered, as she always did.

'Can't sleep,' Sophie said. 'I keep thinking about that night.' Her voice had developed a tremor over the past weeks.

'Me too,' Elena lied. She slept fine now. She'd moved past grief into something else—something harder and colder.

'The police said he probably fell overboard,' Sophie continued. 'Drunk. But Marcos didn't drink that much. Not anymore.' A pause. 'I told him not to go out that night. The weather was turning.'

Elena watched the water darken as twilight deepened. 'You were the last person to see him alive.'

'I know.' Sophie's voice cracked. 'I feel so guilty, Elena. Every single day.'

'Do you?' Elena stood up, iPhone pressed to her ear, and walked to the end of the dock. 'Do you feel guilty about the GPS data I found when I finally got into his cloud account? About how your phones were together at that marina until 3 AM, even though you told me you said goodbye at the restaurant at ten?'

Silence. Just the water against the pilings.

'Or do you feel guilty about the life insurance policy Marcos took out last year?' Elena's voice remained remarkably calm. 'The one that lists you as the secondary beneficiary?'

'Elena—'

'I hired a forensic accountant. I hired a diver.' Elena crouched at the dock's edge. 'They found something interesting snagged on a piling fifty yards from where his boat was found.'

'Elena, please—'

'A weight belt,' Elena said. 'With dive weights removed. Just enough to pull a struggling swimmer down, but not enough to stay submerged forever. Someone who knew about currents. Someone who knew Marcos couldn't swim well.'

'Sophie? You still there?' Elena asked into the silence. Then she lowered the iPhone from her ear and dropped it into the black water, where it disappeared without a sound. Some things, she'd learned, were better left unsaid. Some friendships required no witness at all.