The Orchid Sister

by LeClaire, Anne D.

  For an instant, Maddie considered telling them the truth. Her sister had come here and was now missing. She looked into their faces, trusting, innocent, excited about Verner and his promises. Would they just put her down as a nutcase? Paranoid. Would they pass on what she told them to Mercer or Verner?

  An Mayan server approached bearing a tray. She was not the woman Maddie had seen in the corridor outside her room. She set a bowl of clear soup before each woman. The portions were small.

  “Christ,” Ava Dawn moaned. “There’d better be a lot more coming, or I’m heading the mutiny.”

  “Shall we order wine?” asked Lynn.

  “I wish,” Bethany said. “They toss you out if you bring in any alcohol,” she explained to Maddie.

  “I told you we should have stashed a bottle in the luggage,” Ava Dawn said.

  Maddie forced herself to take a spoonful of the broth. She tried to appear attentive to their conversation while considering her next step. She was back to the puzzle that had led her here. Where was Kat? If Verner had discovered she was a reporter, what would he have done? Would he have kept her imprisoned? Even to Maddie, that seemed extreme. He couldn’t keep her locked up forever. Could he? Her head ached.

  “Yeah,” Lynn said. “No alcohol, no tobacco, no sugar, no caffeine.”

  “Well, I’ve never been anywhere on the planet where you couldn’t find someone to bribe to get a drink if you put your mind and pocketbook to the task,” Lynn said.

  “You’re on,” Ava Dawn said. She looked around the dining room, which was filling with women. The two men who had attended the morning session were not there. “And it looks like we might as well add no sex to the list.”

  “Maybe someone would risk their job to get us a bottle of booze, but I think we’re out of luck with drugs,” Bethany said.

  “Yeah, but speaking of drugs . . . wonder what Dr. Verner pumps us full of?”

  Maddie thought of the syringe she’d found in Kat’s bathroom. If Kat had taken it from the clinic on an earlier visit, had it been for a piece of evidence, proof of what she had learned? Each question led to another, the mystery composed of layers, beginning with Kat’s disappearance. And what she had discovered here . . .

  “With all the deprivation we have to endure here, it had better be good,” Lynn said.

  “I didn’t like the sound of the testicles and glands,” said Bethany. “That totally creeped me out.”

  “Listen, I don’t care if he stuffs us full of bat shit if it works,” Ava Dawn said.

  “Three CCs of bat shit.”

  “One dose of wild bear pee.”

  “Eye of iguana and nose of newt.”

  “Do newts have noses?”

  Their laughter rose as they began trying to outdo each other, three young and lovely women concocting their brew in a virtual iron cauldron.

  Their gaiety and gossipy conversation, the normality and lightness of it, seemed surreal to Maddie. The soup bowls were cleared, replaced by a plate of lightly dressed greens. An idea came to Maddie. In the flurry of clearing one course and serving the next, she leaned toward Bethany. “Listen, I forgot to charge my cell, and now it’s completely dead. I was wondering if I could borrow yours after lunch.” She smiled in apology. “I promised I’d call home when I got here, and I don’t want them to worry.”

  Bethany looked at her in surprise. “You mean they allowed you to keep your phone? We had to turn ours in when we registered. Something about a firm no-photo policy. I swear, if the man wasn’t a genius who absolutely delivers the goods, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Yeah.” Lynn laughed. “He might be a genius, but I gotta say he lands on the high end of the paranoia spectrum.”

  The hope she had allowed herself faded. She had no way to reach Jack. No way to call the police in Playa. Maddie let the conversation float around her for the rest of the lunch: a piece of white fish that had been broiled and steamed green beans. The dessert was an airy concoction so insubstantial it made the broth they’d been served earlier seem as hearty as gumbo.

  When they rose to go, Bethany asked Maddie if she wanted to join them at the pool. She demurred, saying she was tired from the trip and was going to take a nap. She was determined to find the Mayan she had seen in the corridor wearing Kat’s necklace.

  “See you later, then.”

  “Thanks, anyway.” As she turned to leave the dining room, Helen Mercer approached. She singled Maddie out.

  “Dr. Verner asked me to find you. He wants to see you.”

  Maddie thought of the man’s piercing eyes that seemed to see through artifice and wanted more time before she confronted him. She needed to search the grounds and find the Mayan with the necklace. “Maybe later. I’m pretty tired and want a nap.”

  “This won’t take long.” Mercer looped her arm in Maddie’s and guided her to the building that held Verner’s office and the lab. The groundskeeper with the rake nodded in greeting as they passed. A ribbon of laughter floated from the direction of the pool. Maddie slid her free hand into her pocket, clutched the quartz heart.

  Mercer knocked on the door before entering. Verner was seated behind the desk, waiting. He did not rise but only nodded toward one of two chairs opposite him, indicating that Maddie should sit. Maddie hesitated, cast a quick glance around the room, and fought the desire to leave. But she would not lose this chance to learn more about Kat. She took one of the chairs, and Mercer sat in the other. His eyes locked on hers, and she forced herself to return the gaze without flinching. Her body tingled with silent alarm. There was a folder on the desktop, and at last he dropped his eyes and referred to the first page.

  “We have your test results back,” he said.

  “Already?”

  “As I explained this morning, we have a lab on-site. We can fast-track results.”

  “Yes.”

  “Before we review the results, I have a couple of questions.” He peered at her. He picked up the top page in the folder. Maddie stared at his hands, the manicured nails. “As I explained this morning, we require referrals for our guests. On occasion we have made an exception, as we did in your case.”

  She hefted her armor into place and resolved not to let him see how afraid she was that he could see right through her. “I appreciate that.”

  “To protect ourselves, in such instances we always perform a background check.”

  She was jolted that they would go to this length to find out about her. And so quickly. She concealed her shock with outrage. “A background check? Really? Why such an invasion of privacy?”

  “For our own protection. As I mentioned earlier, we must protect ourselves from espionage. Spies have tried to infiltrate our lab.”

  He lands on the high end of the paranoia spectrum. But if someone had nothing to hide, why the paranoia? Why the armed guards?

  “You gave your name as Olivia Moroni. Is that correct?”

  She forced herself to hold his gaze. “Yes.”

  “From Massachusetts?”

  Her mouth went dry. She nodded, not trusting her voice.

  “There is some confusion. Our check only turned up one person from Massachusetts with that name. A nineteen-year-old girl who is currently in hospice care. She is dying of cancer.” His eyes pinned her. “Do you have cancer?”

  “No.”

  “But you say that you are Olivia Moroni?”

  “Yes.” She knew he was toying with her. Of course he knew her name. He had her passport.

  “Quite a coincidence.”

  She tried to think of an explanation he would believe. She was saved by a knock on the door. As soon as possible, she would leave. She would walk out the gate. Surely everyone here wasn’t in on some grand conspiracy. She would find Jack, and together they would go to the police in Playa. They would contact Detective Miller.

  “Come in,” Verner said.

  A Mayan woman entered. Maddie recognized her as the woman she had seen sweeping the corridor earlier. She couldn’t hold b
ack a cry.

  “What’s wrong?” Verner asked.

  “Nothing,” she said. It was Kat’s necklace. Proof that Kat was here. Had been here. She forced herself to look away, holding tight to the chair’s inflexible arms.

  The Mayan carried a tray that held a plate of biscuits and three glass cups filled with a frothy, dark drink. The rich aroma of chocolate reached Maddie. The woman set the tray on a side table and left.

  Mercer stood. She went to the table and retrieved the tray. She served Maddie first, then Verner, before taking the remaining cup and returning to her seat. The biscuit was still warm, as if fresh from the kitchen. Maddie took a bite. It tasted of anise and held a soft, creamy filling that was nearly liquid. She expected the drink to be warm as well, but when she took a sip, it was cool. Beneath the chocolate was a slightly bitter flavor but not unpleasantly so. Very like the chicken mole she had eaten long ago on that trip she had taken with Kat to Mexico. Kat. The words pushed against her lips: Where is my sister? Perhaps the best course was to stop pretending, to tell him why she was here and demand to know where Kat was.

  Verner returned to the folder on his desk and pulled out another paper. “We have the results of your tests.”

  She wasn’t interested in the tests. She folded her hands around the quartz heart. “What I want to know—”

  “Our lab is very efficient.” He took a swig of the drink. Mercer drank, too. Maddie took another sip, but the bitterness lingered at the back of her throat. She took another bite of the biscuit, hoping it would help wash away the taste, now distinctly unpleasant. She stared into the dark liquid. Was it possible that they had drugged the drink? She set the glass on the desktop. Verner watched her and smiled.

  “For the most part,” he said, “we found your results to be normal. In fact, your blood profile shows you to be in excellent health. As I said, nothing unexpected.”

  “For the most part?” Her mind was having trouble keeping up with him.

  “You did not tell us.”

  “Tell you what?”

  “That you are expecting.”

  “Expecting? Expecting what?” Her ears began to ring and sweat dampened her forehead. She had only had two small sips of the drink. They had finished theirs. But they hadn’t touched the biscuits.

  Verner and Mercer exchanged a glance. “You really don’t know?” Verner said.

  His words seemed to come from a distance. “Know what?” she managed.

  “Your results indicate that you are pregnant, Madison.”

  She stared in disbelief. “No. No, I’m not.” It all came rushing at her in a confusion too complicated to process. She stared at him. His features began to blur. She dropped her gaze to the plate of cookies. Untouched except for the one she had eaten. Then she saw, just as her vision began to swim, a passport book and the photo of Kat that was missing from her tote.

  Then the room began to whirl.

  KATHERINE

  Either they had drugged her food again or her return to a measure of vitality had been brief. She felt weak and ill. Hope, so fleeting and tentative, was gone. There would be no rescue. She would never escape. She would die here, taking with her all the evil secrets of this place she had hoped to reveal to the world.

  She pried the cap off the top of the bedpost and carefully retrieved the napkin. She unfolded it to reveal her stash of white pills. She spilled them onto the bed and counted them. Twenty in all. Not as many as she had aimed for but surely enough.

  It grieved her to know the pain Maddie would feel: not only that Kat had disappeared but that Maddie would never learn what had happened to her. A loss, complicated by the mystery of the unresolved. Once, years ago, Kat had written an article about MIAs. She had interviewed many families. Wives and parents and siblings. The most difficult thing, they had told her, was never knowing, to be left to always wonder if their loved ones were still alive somewhere or if they were dead. They’d said, each and every one, that it was in many ways worse than if death had been confirmed. At least then you would know, they’d confided. You could go on, freed from the limbo of waiting. She had been foolish to come here without telling anyone. Foolish and vain to chase youth. She had been foolish to trust Verner. Well, it was too late to change any of it, too late to alter history.

  From the corridor outside her room, noise reached her. She swept the pills back into the napkin and shoved it under the pillow. She lay back on the bed, closed her eyes. Waited for the door to open, for someone—Verner or Mercer or one of the maids—to enter. Somewhere, a door banged shut.

  She must have fallen asleep, because when she woke all was quiet. She drifted off again. She woke to a dream. A young girl was standing by her bed. She was weeping. There was blood on the front of her pajamas. “¡Ayuda!” she cried.

  Kat reached out, felt the girl’s arm, too solid for a dream apparition. The child—for even in the darkness Kat could see that she was young, fourteen or fifteen perhaps—whispered the word between sobs. “Ayuda.”

  Even coming dull-minded from sleep, Kat understood the word. Help. She struggled to sit up. She looked at the girl and, out of the corner of her eye, caught a movement in the shadows of the door.

  TIA CLARA

  The old ones had been with Tia Clara for several days. She felt their presence everywhere, from the moment of awakening to the last awareness before sleep took her. Even in her sleep they came. But they didn’t frighten her. She was surprised to discover that there was a certain comfort to their existence.

  She missed the bird. The wire and wood cage was empty, cleared of seeds and crumbs and droppings. She did not wonder what would become of it, nor of any of her belongings. Her many shawls and blankets. Her old deck of cards and the little pink ones she used for the tourists. Or the frame that Felipe had made for her so very long ago in gratitude when she cured his infant son. These things were no longer of concern.

  The noises of the fiesta pushed into her home. The intensity of it had been increasing with each hour. Soon the masquerade parade would begin, a riot of color and music and laughter snaking through each calle and ending at the square, where the padre would bless the seeds, the last remnant of the original fiesta. Another matter of no concern to her.

  In the shadows of the room she saw a movement and wondered which of the many souls had come to visit. Only the week before, the specter of the old ones’ presence would have held terror for her, but she had learned much in these recent days. All she had been fearing for much of her life no longer held power over her. What would happen would happen. She was powerless to change what was to come, just as she was powerless to alter the past.

  She was sitting by the open window, thinking of these things, when a sparrow flew from a nearby tree to land on the sill. The bird was not one of those common to Playa. Its beak was strong with a small curve at the tip, its feathers black, nearly purple. Instinctively Tia Clara moved a hand toward it, as if to offer it a perch. The gesture did not frighten the bird. For one long moment the echo of song of the cicadas passed through the room. The dark sparrow fixed its clever eyes on hers. She felt a flutter in her heart, a quick beating, as if caged inside her own breast an organ as tiny as that of the bird beat a delicate, thin pulse, so insubstantial it seemed impossible to bear the weight of life.

  “So you’ve come for me at last,” she said to the bird. Beneath her ribs, the arrhythmia of her heart increased. The creature continued to gaze at her. For a moment Tia Clara’s vision clouded. She saw, in a blur, many pictures: the village as it was long ago, before the tourists came; Manny, so strong and handsome and weak; and Consuelo, beautiful Consuelo. She thought of all the passions and pains of the past. All the things they had done in the name of love and the stunning and unforeseen consequences. If she had known, what would she have done differently? Would she have freed Manny and let him go to Consuelo?

  The bird spread its wings, as if impatient with the questioning of humans. It tilted its head, withdrew its wings back to its body, and con
sidered a patch of ground and then cocked its head and looked at a branch overhead and the sky.

  For years, Tia Clara had thought that when death came for her, it would be presaged by the zopilotes. The scavenger bird. She looked again at the dark sparrow and understood this bird was offering her a choice, a chance, and she had only to read the signs to become clear on what to do, but after a lifetime of reading signs she was tired, too tired to read one more, even this one. She turned from the window and a moment later heard the soft rustle as the sparrow flew off. Even then, she did not turn back to see which direction it had taken, the song that would reveal her fate. She would know soon enough. For one brief moment she knew panic. What had she left undone? What was left to repent? It had all passed so quickly, so quickly. All the beauty. All the joys and all the sorrows. Love and betrayal. The sound of the sea rose in her ears.

  The old ones grew impatient. It would not be long now.

  MADISON

  The bed was unfamiliar in its narrowness. Not her bed. Where was she? She worked to ground herself, to wake.

  Gradually, she remembered. She was in Mexico. A hotel. She concentrated on remembering the name. Molcas. That was it. The Hotel Molcas. By the water. She was searching for Kat. Jack had come with her.

  She sat up. Pale light from the half moon streamed through the skylight. She glanced around at the room, the bare furnishings. Not the hotel, then. The effort to sort it out drained her. She recalled snatches of conversation, of faces. A glimmering Madonna with amphibian feet. A man with a gold-edged tooth. A green-feathered bird in a cage. They became a confusing collage of images. A weathered old woman with two thick white braids. A man with piercing eyes. Whispered words spoken in a language she didn’t understand.

  Another memory. A man telling her she was having a baby. Another part of the confusing dream. Still, she brought one hand to her belly, cupped it over the soft skin above her pelvis. Her mind refused to work right. To sort out what was part of the dream, to remember where she was. She swallowed, tasted the bitterness of chocolate.