The Water Between Us

Marcus arrived in Beaufort the next morning carrying two banker boxes and a grim expression.

“We have a problem,” he said as Evelyn poured coffee.

Simone sat across from him. “Only one?”

“Carter Logistics owes twelve million dollars across four lenders.”

Her face went blank.

“That’s impossible.”

“It was eight million six months ago.”

“What happened?”

Marcus opened a folder. “Cash withdrawals, vendor payments to shell companies, and one line item I can’t explain. Two-point-three million labeled marine consulting.”

“David doesn’t own boats.”

“He owns access to people who do.”

Evelyn set down the coffee pot. “What people?”

Marcus hesitated.

Simone noticed. “Say it.”

“There are rumors about a group called the Calder Syndicate. Smuggling, stolen cargo, laundering through regional transport companies.”

Simone looked at him in disbelief. “You’re telling me my husband works for organized crime?”

“I’m telling you his company paid businesses tied to men who have been investigated for organized crime.”

“That’s different.”

“Yes.”

“But not different enough.”

Marcus slid another page toward her. “The eight-hundred-thousand-dollar transfer was scheduled for forty-eight hours after the lake accident.”

Simone’s skin prickled.

“After?”

“Yes.”

“Then why prepare my signature before the accident?”

“That’s the question.”

A knock sounded at the front door.

Evelyn went still.

Nobody had called before coming.

Marcus stood.

“I’ll get it.”

The man outside was tall, gray-haired, and familiar.

Simone stared.

“You.”

He gave a small nod. “Morning, sister.”

It was the man from the lake.

The man who had pulled her out.

“My name is Isaiah Cole,” he said. “I should’ve given it to you that day, but everything got moving fast.”

Simone opened the door wider.

“Come in.”

Isaiah sat at the kitchen table, turning his cap in his hands.

“I saw your husband’s picture in the Raleigh paper yesterday,” he said. “About the court hearing.”

Marcus leaned forward. “What else did you see at the lake?”

Isaiah’s eyes moved to Simone.

“You sure you want this?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “Before the dock broke, I was fishing maybe fifty yards downshore. I saw the three of you arguing.”

“What about?” Simone asked.

“Couldn’t hear all of it. The blonde woman said something like, ‘You promised today.’ Your husband told her to lower her voice.”

Simone gripped the edge of the table.

“Then?”

“Then she grabbed his arm. You stepped toward them. Board gave way.”

Marcus asked, “Did Mr. Carter see Mrs. Carter after they entered the water?”

Isaiah’s face hardened.

“Yes.”

Simone stopped breathing.

“He looked at you,” Isaiah said. “You were closer to him than the other woman at first.”

“Then why did he swim to Rebecca?”

“I can’t tell you why.”

“Tell me what he did.”

Isaiah nodded slowly. “He pushed past you.”

The room went silent.

Simone heard the refrigerator hum.

“He what?”

“You reached for him. He knocked your hand away. Maybe not hard, but enough. Then he went after her.”

Simone’s mouth opened, but no sound came.

She remembered green water. A shape above her. A hand.

She had told herself the memory was confused.

It wasn’t.

Marcus said quietly, “Mr. Cole, would you be willing to sign a statement?”

“Yes.”

“Would you testify?”

Isaiah looked at Simone. “If she needs me.”

“I need you,” she whispered.

He nodded.

After he left, Simone went to the porch and sat on the top step.

Evelyn joined her.

“I reached for him,” Simone said.

“I heard.”

“He pushed me away.”

Evelyn sat beside her without speaking.

“For days I kept wondering if I was unfair. If maybe he panicked. If maybe I saw it wrong.”

“You wanted the past to be less cruel than it was.”

Simone pressed both palms to her eyes.

“My daughter died because of that choice.”

Evelyn’s voice was low. “Your daughter died after many things happened. Don’t let one moment turn into a weapon you use against yourself.”

Simone lowered her hands.

Marcus stepped outside holding his phone.

“You need to see this.”

He showed them a photograph sent anonymously to his office.

It had been taken at the lake two days before the accident.

David stood beside Rebecca near the dock.

A third man faced them.

Heavyset. Bald. Dark suit despite the heat.

Marcus zoomed in.

“That’s Victor Calder.”

Simone looked from the photograph to Marcus.

“The syndicate?”

“Yes.”

On the back of the digital scan was a time stamp and a short typed message.

ASK DAVID WHAT HE PROMISED AT THE WATER.

Before leaving, Isaiah paused at the door.

“There’s one more thing,” he said.

Simone looked up.

“When your husband reached shore with the other woman, he looked back. Just once.”

Her stomach tightened.

“Before or after you reached me?”

“After I had you by the arms.”

“What did he do?”

“He froze. Then he stayed where he was.”

Simone absorbed that quietly.

Isaiah seemed to understand the cruelty of the detail.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be. I asked for the truth.”

After he left, Simone wrote his statement in her own words on the yellow legal pad. She did not trust memory anymore, especially memory shaped by trauma. Dates, times, names, exact phrases—she began recording all of it.

Marcus watched her.