“Her phone was stolen?” Miles straightened, trying to force the small crumbs of the sandwich down his dry throat.
“With her passport at the main airport. That was one of the things that bothered me about her sudden departure.” Lex picked at his plate, seeming to have about as much of an appetite as Miles.
“What do you mean?”
“Honestly, when you showed me Ivy’s picture I was relieved. She checked out remotely Wednesday afternoon. I normally would have assumed the lunch date went badly, but in order to check out electronically she would have needed a phone, and she wouldn’t let me procure one for her. When I went to check on her the room was empty, all her belongings had gone. It never sat right with me, but we are taught not to ask questions.”
“This lunch date, who was it with?” As Miles asked Lex seemed to find his appetite, nibbling on the small finger sandwiches on his plate. Miles allowed him all the time he needed, knowing he was asking this man to risk his future by answering.
“In for a penny, in for a pound.” Lex sighed after several minutes. “I can’t tell you, but I have some photographs I never sent her since at the time I believed they were the cause of her early departure.
“We have a strict policy regarding the use of personal cameras, so we have our own photographers do the rounds and filter out those not intended to be in the frame. We also have to get consent for anyone appearing in a group photo before it can be released to anyone.” He picked up his phone, scrolling through until he stopped on a picture. It was Ivy, wearing the same white dress as in the photos he’d already seen and she was dancing with—
“Perry Carter.” Miles knew this man, and not just from school. He’d worked security detail on a few of his events.
“He asked for a copy of the photos. Since she had already signed the part of the NDA that said she consented to release of any photos she appeared in, it was released to him. Some of our guests don’t mind, others opt for the privacy. Since she’d checked out by the time I reviewed the photographs, I didn’t want to risk forwarding her something she’d rather forget.” He cracked the seal on the water, retrieving a fluted glass before filling it and passing it to Miles. It seemed more like busy work, something for him to do while Miles studied the photograph.
“When did he check out?” Miles asked, tapping the image on the phone screen.
“Thursday morning, in person.”
“Was that the day he was meant to leave?”
“Yes. It was.”
“Did anyone see Ivy after this lunch date?” He took his phone out, snapping a picture of the screen before Lex could object. Something about this picture didn’t feel right, the way she was leaning into him, their bodies pressed together, how Perry’s hand seemed to rest on her ass. Ivy would have hated that.
Without thinking, he swiped across to the next picture. What the fuck? His grip on the phone tightening, his eyebrows drawing down into a scowl as his gaze focused on Perry’s lips against Ivy's neck. As if sensing his growing anger, Lex lifted his phone from his grasp. “Did anyone see her after this?”
“No, she checked out an hour later.”
“Was there anything else?”
“Her emergency passport,” he whispered. “I got the notification it was ready to collect from the embassy, but I had no way of reaching out to her. I assumed they must have called her room before she checked out. I never followed up with it to see if she collected it. By then I’d moved on to my next client, but it had never sat well with me. To be honest, when you showed me her picture I was relieved. I had been concerned something had happened to her. How long have you been looking for her?”
“Three weeks now. Someone made it look like she was on a plane to England. Whoever did this obviously didn’t know about her passport, or her luggage being redirected.”
“Her luggage?” Lex questioned, scanning the surroundings making sure they were still alone.
“Her case was misplaced on her outbound flight. She had it sent back home.”
“I remember commenting she travelled light. She didn’t mention her case was missing.”
“She wouldn’t.” Ivy hated to inconvenience people, especially if it was something she had already dealt with herself. She wasn’t one to needlessly complain or make a fuss. She’d just tighten her belt and get on with things.
“Look, I hope you find her. She seemed really nice, genuine. It’s why I brought her here to warn her about Mr Carter.”
“Warn her?”
“As you deduced, he invited her to lunch,” Lex lifted his phone meaningfully. “I brought her here to warn her he had a reputation. Normally the women he pays attention to are of a certain persuasion. She wasn’t like them. Too innocent, if you catch my meaning. While I couldn’t give her details, I wanted her to be aware.” Lex began to tidy away the left-overs, placing the used items back in the basket.
Neither of them had eaten very much. In fact, while he knew food had passed his lips, Miles didn’t remember tasting anything, he had been too consumed with his thoughts of Ivy.
“Is there any way to gain access to the room security footage?” If Ivy went back to her room, then she should be on there. If not, seeing who cleared out her room would be a big help in tracking her down.
“No, it’s overwritten every twenty-four hours.”
“So there’s no way to know if she was the one who cleared her room?”
“No, and the cameras were offline for the quarterly maintenance at that time. Oh, I just remembered. There was something else.” He tapped his device, pulling up the lost and found page. “I’d seen her with an e-reader. It was found under the table at the restaurant.”
Miles frowned at the picture. It was definitely hers. The small satchel wasn’t familiar, but he recognised the kindle case, he’d had made for her with all her favourite game characters on. It had been a custom design, one of a kind, like her. He’d used to tease her, telling her one of these days she’d wake up to find it had assimilated into her flesh, she’d just grin and say it would make carrying it about with her easier.
If he’d ever had any doubts, the conversation with Lex had cemented in his mind the danger she was in. He needed to speak with Perry Carter and find out what had happened after their lunch date. He was the last person known to have seen her before she vanished. He’d just have to be creative about how he claimed to know.
“Is there any way I can get a copy of that picture officially?”
“Since Mister Carter approved the picture for his release, we’re allowed to assume to other party is permitted a copy. I can send them to Ivy’s email address.”
“Please do so. Can you let me know the date and time the pictures were sent to him, that way I can doctor the timestamp, so it looks like they came through right after he received his.” He watched the young man breathe some tension from his shoulders. “Don’t worry, Lex, no one will know you spoke to me. Now, can you tell me all the ways someone can get off this island without being seen?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dead end after dead end.
Miles sat at the table with his head in his hands. He didn’t know how much more he could take. Things were getting so bad that after he’d updated Devon on the situation, his old friend had insisted on coming over.
It must have been something in his voice that had given his struggles away, perhaps the way he had to breathe part way through sentences, or that tell-tale crack in his voice. Or maybe, just maybe, he'd heard the subtle slurring of his words.
The last thing he needed was to see the judgement in his eyes, even if it was a phantom expression he imagined there. Everyone wore that expression, strangers in the street, the woman at Ivy’s favourite coffee shop, even his own reflection. It was no secret he was struggling. He blamed himself; he blamed his mother, and amidst all the feelings of anger, self-loathing, guilt, and hatred was the gut wrenching fear for Ivy’s safety, and Devon heard it all.
It had been a long time since their last
appointment, months since he had needed to talk about his days in the army and his nightmares, but since Ivy had disappeared, he’d not had a single night that wasn’t filled with terrors.
His old horrors came back to haunt him, often inserting Ivy somewhere within the dream. He watched her bleed; he watched her die, heard her scream before he felt the red mist upon his skin. No matter how much he showered its tingle still haunted him in his waking hours.
He didn’t know what good talking would do, it would change nothing. It had helped before, but this situation was different. He didn’t deserve to shed these demons. It was his fault she was missing, and he deserved to suffer through every moment of her absence.
Devon specialised in post-traumatic stress disorder. They had been friends over six years and from the first time they met something between them had just clicked. He was also JJ’s older brother.
Just as Ivy joined him whenever she could when he was on leave, Devon, too, often made an appearance and had become good friends with both himself and Ivy. Devon was forever teasing Ivy, making her blush in a way that, at times, had made him feel inexplicably jealous. But talking to him now, about this, would only highlight all the ways he had failed.
He downed another shot of whisky, tossing the empty bottle in the blue recycling decal to hear its serenade as it found its recently departed brethren.
Getting the keys to his new apartment should have come as a relief, but instead the place seemed empty. He’d paid for someone to furnish it for him, making sure one of the rooms had a more feminine touch. When—not if—he got Ivy back, she was moving in with him, and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She’d never leave his sight again.
He’d had the same workmen sink his wires that had done his guest house, they knew how he liked things, clean and tidy. Even if he couldn’t really bring himself to care about such details at the moment he knew Ivy would appreciate them. His consoles had been mounted below the large flat screen television, but he’d not so much as turned one on. Everything he did to kill time only reminded him the person he usually did it with wasn’t here.
Her absence left a void, one he was attempting to fill with alcohol. Three huge bedrooms with ensuite bathrooms, a study, a large kitchen, and an open-plan sitting room diner. He had all the space he could need, and he was rattling around lost.
He had filled the P.I. in on what he had uncovered in the Bahamas and, before leaving the island, had personally visited all the ways to leave, hoping he would see something, notice something.
It seemed impossible she could have left without being seen, and this small island had plenty of places to party, but not many a person could be hidden. The rules were lax, which meant those willing to participate in less than kosher activities always looked out for one another to ensure things never went too far. If Ivy was there, he would have found her.
There had been private docks where people parked their yachts, chartered planes, small boats, and ferries. No one remembered seeing her.
Miles, the P.I, Sparky, Matthews, and JJ all scoured hours of camera footage of any business and bank that had them. But the island’s reputation meant such footage was few and far between.
The only thing they had found was a video of Perry Carter leaving, alone, with just his luggage. Miles had stared at that footage for hours, examining every face in the crowd, rewinding and fast-forwarding watching who got on and off of his yacht which had been docked in full view of the camera, but Ivy was not amongst any of the faces.
Cracking open another bottle of whisky he studied the picture of Ivy and Perry again, growling at the way his lips caressed her neck, at the way he’d tilted her back slightly so only the low heels of her sandals were on the floor, forcing her body to press against his.
The more he stared at it, the more unnatural it seemed. This wasn’t Ivy. He zoomed in, looking at the flush on her cheeks for what must have been the hundredth time, questioning if it was a hue present from drinking, too much sun, or discomfort.
He grabbed his phone. There was only one person who could give him answers about this picture. He’d put off making the call since clearly he’d left the island alone. He had the most airtight alibi a person could ask for. He was seen on camera alone, and from the time Ivy arrived in the Bahamas to the moment Perry departed, only his crew had been seen going on and off the vessel. Even so, he was the last lead, the last hope of finding something.
“Get me a meeting with Perry Carter,” he growled down the phone. It was time to meet with the last person to see Ivy alive—no the last person to see Ivy before she vanished. She was alive out there. She had to be.
She hated herself for every moan, for every time her dirty, treacherous body betrayed her. She didn’t want to be here; she didn’t want him touching her.
The metal restraints dug into her wrists as she thrashed, fighting desperately for air, trying to block out the feeling of his fingers sliding inside her.
Her struggles only amused him, it didn’t matter whether she fought or not, the result would be the same. He’d drive his cock into her until he found his release, using her like the toy he so often said she was. Filling her with his seed. Fucking her until she was sore.
Sometimes his hands would fasten around her throat so tightly she’d black out while he buried himself inside her. He seemed to be enjoying that more and more these days. But today he’d left her conscious, barely. But her head spun as he released her swollen throat, allowing her to suck in dizzying, painful breaths.
She no longer fought as he wrapped her ponytail around his fisted hand and dragged her to the corner of the bedroom where the small cage shone under the artificial lighting. Her limbs burned from his repeated use of her, the way he would pin her down and thrust himself inside her, using her as a toy, a tool, one which got put back in its little box when he was done.
She could already feel the forming bruises burning on her flesh as he dragged her used and battered body closer to the prison. Her tears had died some time ago, along with her hope that anyone would realise she was missing.
He’d told her about the plane ticket, about the letters to her friends, about how they were moving on with their lives and respecting her decision. He had wielded each announcement as a weapon, hollowing her out until the pit of despair within her ran so deep it felt like all hope was lost. Some days, fighting seemed pointless.
No, that wasn’t true. Most days fighting seemed pointless. She was alone, no one was coming for her, no one realised what was happening. They were living their lives, and this horrible existence had become hers.
There was some peace to be had though, she was finding if she concentrated and emptied her mind, thought of nothing but her duties, focused on them. It was bearable. It kept the realisation of what was happening at bay. To submit, to obey, was to drive out other thoughts, and it was the only way she was surviving.
It was when she thought on things desperation and panic set in. It was when she remembered a time outside of this she felt as though she would break. It was better to remember nothing, think of nothing. It was getting easier to just surrender herself.
Her thighs were still coated with his fluid, but this time it was mingled with light traces of her own blood. She had been filled with such great relief a few nights ago when he’d taken her against the wall in the wet room, only to discover she’d got her period. She had thought he would have been put off by her bleeding, but instead he’d fucked her harder, as if he’d been punishing her.
She hadn’t expected to come on, not with the patches since the no patch week normally corresponded to the user’s time of month, and that hadn’t been due for another week, according to him. Had it really only been three weeks since he’d taken her? That day, after he’d finished with her, he’d strapped her into the Saint Andrew’s cross, whipping her until she swore there had been blood. He’d left her there, cold and wet, until long after her hair had dried. When he’d returned, he’d dragged her to the bed, fucked her again.
She didn’t remember what it was like to sleep on a bed anymore. The first time she had tried to smother him he had made her sleep in the cage, locking her inside, making sure she couldn’t escape. He didn’t normally keep her there during the day though, or at least she thought it was daytime, she couldn’t quite tell, but he had said good morning a few hours ago when he thrust his cock in her mouth so she could earn her breakfast, and he’d been asleep in the bed until then.
She watched him through the bars as he uhooked his trousers from the hanger and dressed, rolling down his sleeves and fastening his cuff links. It was strange how he could act so normally after the horrific things he was doing to her. She lay down in the cage obediently, wincing against the pain in her shoulder as it struck the floor without her arms to soften the impact.
Her prison was only large enough for her to kneel in, or lie curled up in a ball. But she’d take the rest while she could get it. She was sore and swollen. Her back, breasts, and legs stung from the endless stream of welts he’d left upon her flesh.
He reached through the cage, placing a new patch on her. She knew it was too early, but didn’t want to say anything, she’d rather it be too early than too late. Her bleeding had almost stopped now, so he must have figured it was as good a time as any.
She didn’t cry any more, or at least not like she used to. She didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. He’d always comment on how pretty she was when she cried and then hurt her more.
He was angry today. She could tell from the set of his jaw and in the way he had punished her for no reason. She had been good. So good. She’d done everything he’d asked. She knelt, pleasured him, begged for him when he asked. She kept her eyes averted, followed him on her hands and knees. Cooked him breakfast, brought him coffee, although she had spilt it as the burns on her back reminded her.
Breaking Sin: A kidnap abduction story (Addicted to Sin Book 1) Page 18
