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Home›Fiction›The Invitation: Part 6

The Invitation: Part 6

By LC Ahl (Lucy)
February 2, 2026
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white sandy beach with clear blue water and footprints
Kanenori / Pixabay
This entry is part 6 of 6 in the series The Invitation

The Invitation
  • The Invitation: Part 1
  • The Invitation: Part 2
  • The Invitation: Part 3
  • The Invitation: Part 4
  • The Invitation: Part 5
  • The Invitation: Part 6
5
(1)

Riley and I froze when we heard someone singing Billy Joel’s You May Be Right, off-key. “…I may be crazy…Hey it just might be a lunatic you’re looking for…you may be wrong, but you may be right…”

“Oh, hey, watcha doing over there? Playing I spy?”

Curt.

“Shhh!” we both said. The yacht was now dark. No illumination could be seen from the windows. Curt’s interruption allowed them time to leave.

We brushed the sand off our arms and legs. “What the hell, Curt! Somebody was on the boat. It might have been the killer, and you scared them off when you showed up.”

“Sorry,” he slurred.

I walked over and stared into his eyes. “Didn’t you tell me you were sober?” I squinted at him.

“From alcohol, not weed.” He laughed and dropped to the ground.

“They had the best shit. Where did you two roam off to? You missed it.”

He lay down and stared up at the sky.

“Where’s your escort? We agreed everybody should venture nowhere alone.” I said, giving him a stern look.

“Oh, crap.” He flailed his arms. “Everyone is pretty fucked up presently. Samantha had some leaf. Passed it about and said, enjoy yourselves. So…we did.” Curt chuckled, his eyes squinty and red. “I suspect Kathy and Aiden are hooking up as we speak. But, keep it to yourself.” He looked around. “It’s our little secret,” he whispered.

I looked at Riley. “Come on, let’s take him home to his yurt.”

We helped him up and into his tent. “Here you are, kiddo. Get some sleep. Busy day tomorrow.”

Curt brushed my cheek. “You’re so sweet, Melliroo.”

“Thanks, you are too. So, go to bed.”

“Mm hmm.”

He stumbled to his cot and fell face-first into his pillow. I closed the flap, and Riley headed for the dock.

“Wait!” She stopped mid-step. The wind picked up, blowing her long hair all over her head. I breathed in the salty air, and the cool sand under my feet helped me stay calm. I ran to catch up.

When I reached her, I touched her arm. “Are you going in?”

“Not without you,” she said. She grabbed my hand. “Let’s do this.”

Once we were inside the vessel, Riley switched on her flashlight. Shadows flickered along the walls. The pungent odor of bleach hit my nose, blurring my vision.

“Wasn’t it Samantha who said they wouldn’t clean until after the police finished their investigation?” I asked.

“And you believed her? Ha! Her distraction worked, supplying everyone with drugs so we’d all be…preoccupied.”

I rolled my eyes. I knew Riley was on point. The way Samantha treated us earlier in her office, I should have anticipated it. My shoulders slumped. Why did I doubt my gut?

Riley led the charge. I stayed close, matching her steps like we were dance partners waiting for the next move.

A loud crash made both of us jump and grab each other. “Someone’s still here,” Riley gasped. “Got your rock?” followed by a nervous giggle.

Fuck you, I mouthed. When one is scared, sometimes one has to laugh. This was one of those times. Trying not to pee myself, I crossed my legs. I pictured myself swinging this jagged opal stone at someone. How naïve of me.

“What should we do?” Riley asked. “Want me to be your lookout while you use the bathroom?” I straightened up. “I’ll be fine. What did we come here to do?”

“Find out who the hell is in here. We can’t turn around at this point,” she said, and we kept moving toward the staircase.

As we passed the galley, I opened a drawer by the stove and found a large butcher’s knife. The wooden handle fit perfectly in my grip.

“Much better than that damn rock. At least we have a chance.” Riley continued to push my buttons.

“Do you think this is funny? Or are you just teasing me because you hide your fear with jokes?” Her attitude caused me to be distracted through my irritation with her.

She slapped my arm. “Stop being so uptight. I am trying to lighten up a dangerous situation.”

“We ought to move on,” I shot back.

Taking the stairs slowly, we stopped periodically to listen for any strange sounds. We were on the second level with three more to check. My eye twitched from nerves, and my mind kept telling me to leave. I touched Riley’s shoulder.

“What?” she asked, sounding exasperated.

“I’m having a bad feeling about this. You may think Samantha is involved, but…”

Riley spun around and aimed the flashlight at my face. I put my hands up to block the glare. “Please stop,” I said.

She looked down and whispered, “Indeed. We have to find Samantha.” We started up the stairs, but a shadowy figure appeared at the top. I screamed and almost fell on Riley. When we pointed the light at the figure, the shine of blonde hair gave her away. “Speak of the devil,” Riley said.

* * *

“What are you two doing here?” she asked. “I told you both that nobody was supposed to be on the ship until after the police finished their investigation.” We stood on the upper deck, questioning each other.

“So, why are you here?” I asked.

“Me? I walk at night sometimes, insomnia. You’d be surprised how voices carry in the salt air.” When I looked down at her hand, I saw she had a gun tucked against her thigh.

“Same. Couldn’t sleep. Stepped outside to gaze at the stars. There was a deafening sound, and well, we thought it would be better to check with you before proceeding.”

“Where?” she asked.

“Down below. Not sure which deck. With Curt’s off-key singing and …”

“Get to the subject. I don’t have use for your theories. You noticed a glow; you heard a crash.” Samantha took out her cell phone. “We need more backup. I’m calling Eliza.” She walked down to the end of the bow. I couldn’t make out who she was talking to or what she was saying.

“Do you believe her?” Riley murmured.

“I never told her we saw a light. But do you want to be the person to call her out on it?” I made a gun gesture with my hands.

Riley turned away from me, shaking her head.

“We say nothing,” I hissed.

After her brief conversation, Samantha came back. “Eliza’s coming. She’s bringing the keys for the generator and Jones, my bodyguard.”

“See, I had a hunch getting you involved was the proper thing to do.” I said and hit Riley on the arm.

“Yep, you were correct again,” she said, a little too cheerfully.

In the distance, we could spot a lantern through the trees. Eliza and a tall, muscular man appeared and paraded up the plank.

“We got here as quickly as possible. Do you mind if I bring Jones with me to turn on the generator?”

“Go,” Samantha commanded.

A few minutes later, the ship was lit up like a birthday cake.

We stepped through the entrance into a large room with curved couches facing each other. A glass coffee table was covered with “Yacht Life” magazines. As we moved forward, Samantha led the way, and Jones followed behind.

Eliza stood on the deck in case anyone tried to board.

“Approximately where were you when you registered this loud noise?” Samantha asked.

“It was dark, but somewhere below the galley,” Riley said. “Mel stole a knife for protection.” She winked at me. Bitch! I smacked her on the back.

Samantha gave me a stare. “You had to be there,” I said flatly.

We searched the whole boat; all we discovered under the tables were crumbs. The bathrooms had a fishy odor, and when I slid my fingers under the velvet bed pillows, all I detected was dust. The sound of the waves hitting the sides and the hum of the generator masked any retrieving footsteps. When we reached Beverly’s old cabin, Riley stopped short.

“Why don’t we allow Mr. Jones to take the lead?” Riley said, stepping aside to let him pass.

When he opened the door, the smell of bleach burned our throats. He shifted his position, allowing the group to peer in. The area was spotless. Not a drop of blood or a pillow out of place. It seemed nobody had ever stayed there, much less that it had been the scene of a murder. Fresh linen, curtains, and pillows filled the room, along with a new coat of paint.

I hurried over to the secret compartment I’d found in the corner. It was gone too- nailed shut and painted over.

We all stood there, stunned. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. They must have spent hours getting rid of the evidence.

“Now what?” I faced Samantha.

“What do you mean?” she replied.

“How are you going to explain this to the police?”

“Explain what?” She nodded to Jones.

Jones grabbed my wrist and pushed me out the door. Riley, who was standing at the end of the hall, must have seen my shocked expression. She turned and ran.

Samantha pulled out a walkie-talkie. “Liza, restrain her.”


Editor: Shannon Hensley

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The Invitation

The Invitation: Part 5
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LC Ahl (Lucy)

Lucy Cafiero, known professionally as LC Ahl, is a published author and senior editor with a career that blends creativity, advocacy, and mentorship. After spending 25 years in the construction industry as a purchasing agent, Lucy pivoted to writing following the 2008 recession and a personal experience with breast cancer in 2003. She has authored three books to date, including One in Eight: A Teen's Guide to Understanding Breast Cancer, the crime thriller The Purple Lily, and Shorts, a collection of short stories, while also contributing to numerous publications in fiction, creative nonfiction, travel, true crime, and political writing. Lucy earned her Bachelor of Arts in Creative Writing and English Language and Literature from Southern New Hampshire University in 2017, graduating summa cum laude. She joined Coffee House Writers in 2019, and three years later became a Senior Editor, leading a team of writers and performing developmental edits to help authors strengthen their manuscripts. Her editorial philosophy emphasizes clarity, perseverance, and openness to feedback, supporting writers in crafting impactful fiction and nonfiction. Beyond her professional achievements, Lucy is deeply engaged in her community and advocacy work. She has volunteered with organizations such as Network of Strength, focused on breast-health education, and Renegade Rescue, a dog rescue initiative. She continues to write her own novels, currently working on The Darkest Destination, a continuation of her crime thriller series, while balancing her editorial duties and mentoring emerging writers in the literary field. Lucy lives in Savannah, GA with her husband and two fur babies, Reece and Newman.

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