Jack Ryder Mystery Series: Vol 4-6

by Willow Rose

  The commissioner rose to his feet and closed his jacket over his big stomach with a grunt. He pointed a finger at me.

  "You better be right about this."

  Chapter 62

  Bahamas, October 2018

  Coraline felt hands on her body and was turned around. She felt powerless in the hands of this man, this predator who stood above her, looking down at her with those fiery eyes.

  "Please," she said with a whimper. "Please."

  The pleading didn't seem to help her. Actually, it had the opposite effect.

  "I don't want to die, please," she continued nonetheless.

  The man leaned forward and wiped blood from her face, then said with a low voice, "But you will. Don't worry. In just a few minutes, it'll be all over."

  "No," she said, crying. "No. Why are you doing this?"

  The man didn't answer. He grabbed his bag and started to pull out some things. Coraline watched him through blurry eyes as he pulled out needles and ink.

  "What are you doing with those?" she asked, remembering seeing similar equipment in the tattoo parlor she had gotten that small heart she had on her ankle when she turned eighteen, much to her dad's regret.

  The man now walked to her, then started to unbutton her shirt and pull it off. Coraline tried to fight him, but he held her down, and soon she had to give up. Next, he grabbed her pants and pulled them off. As he spotted the tattoo on her ankle, he stopped and looked at it.

  "Huh," he said. "I prefer an empty canvas…" he paused and looked up at her with a smile. "I guess this will have to do."

  He turned her around so that he could look at her back, then ran a hand slowly down her spine.

  "Some might say it would be easier just to write the word on your back," he said, "using a permanent marker. I understand why they would say that, but since you'll be left in water, I prefer making it more permanent, if you know what I mean. Why water, you might ask? Well, I prefer it because it removes all traces like fingerprints and any DNA I might leave behind."

  "P-please," she continued.

  His hands were still examining her body, touching the skin all over her back and then turning her around and feeling the skin on her stomach. Coraline was crying heavily now, and soon those cries turned to screams.

  The man shook his head. "You really think anyone can hear you? This room is the safest place on the planet. The walls are so thick you couldn't even drill through them."

  Coraline still screamed with all the strength left in her small body.

  The man searched her stomach, then paused.

  "Yes, I think this is the spot," he said. "Right here on your stomach. Now, it might hurt a little bit, but I am sure you won't feel it since you'll be…well, almost dead when I start doing it. Usually, it takes around two to two and a half hours for someone your size to bleed to death, choking on your own blood. So, don't worry; you will hardly feel the needle as I decorate your body. Besides, you'll probably pass out pretty quickly from all the blood loss."

  The man looked at her, then reached over and grabbed a butcher's knife. Coraline saw it, then whimpered and tried to crawl away, but the man grabbed her by the feet and pulled her back toward him. He then turned her around and looked down at her, holding the knife close to her face.

  "Now, say your final word," he said. "And make it a good one."

  Chapter 63

  Lyford Cay, Bahamas, October 2018

  It was with great satisfaction that I handed over the warrant to Mr. Sakislov. Meanwhile, what seemed like the entire Royal Bahamian Police Force entered the resort-sized house and started their search.

  "They're not gonna find anything here," Mr. Sakislov said, still fuming. "You're wasting your time."

  "Let me be the judge of that," I said.

  "What's going on?"

  Henry Sakislov came out in the great hall that was the size of the three-bedroom apartment where I used to live.

  "What's going on?" he asked again. "Dad?"

  "They think I murdered Ella," he said.

  Henry's eyes grew weary. "Murdered her? No," he said addressed to me. "You misunderstood. He's a playboy; he sleeps with young girls and treats them like dirt, but he's no killer. He didn't kill Ella."

  "Just let us do our job," I said. "We have reason to believe he might have killed several young girls around the island."

  "Tell them to hurry up. I’m hosting a party tonight," Mr. Sakislov said. "And I don't want your men crawling all over the grounds."

  I stared at the son, wondering what kind of grown-up he was going to be with an upbringing like this, with a dad like this.

  "Where is your mom?" I asked. "Is there a Mrs. Sakislov?"

  "There was. There have been several," Henry answered and sent his dad another look. "But none of them stuck."

  "So, where is your mother now?" I asked. "Could you go and live with her in case we need to arrest your father?"

  "You're not arresting anyone here," Mr. Sakislov snorted.

  "But just in case we do find something, and we have to take him in," I continued. "Could you go live with her?"

  Henry looked down at the marble tiles beneath him, then shook his head. "We hardly know one another."

  "And it won't be necessary," his dad said.

  "Again, let me be the judge of that," I said just as the commissioner came back in the hall followed by a flock of his men. He looked tired and sweaty, and his eyes told me he didn't carry good news. As he approached me, he started to shake his head.

  "Nothing. We found nothing."

  I didn't see it because he was standing behind me, but I just knew that Mr. Sakislov was smiling from ear to ear. I could almost hear his smirk from where I was standing.

  "Keep going," I said.

  "We've been everywhere," the commissioner said. "There is nothing, no sign of the girl."

  "Try again," I snorted, sounding almost like Mr. Sakislov. "Keep trying!"

  "As you wish," the commissioner said, and they disappeared once again. I could hear them running around from room to room and from guesthouse to guesthouse outside, searching up and down while I was standing inside the great hall, suddenly sweating quite heavily.

  Chapter 64

  Lyford Cay, Bahamas, October 2018

  "Nothing."

  Commissioner Maycock threw out his arms as he repeated the word for the third time. We had been there for several hours now, still with no luck. I stared at him, sweat prickling on my skin. I could feel Sergei Sakislov's piercing eyes on my back.

  "You hear me? There is nothing here," the commissioner continued. "No Coraline Stuart, none of her clothes or belongings. Nothing that could have belonged to any of the many girls you believe had been kept here before they were killed. Nothing."

  The word echoed inside my head, and I felt like screaming. This couldn't be correct; it simply couldn't. I had been so certain.

  And yet I wasn't. A small part of me knew it was too easy of an answer. But I had wanted to believe it. I sure did.

  Mr. Sakislov approached us, then leaned over with the biggest smirk I have ever seen and said: "Now, if you'll please leave my property before my guests arrive."

  I couldn't stand his self-righteous face. I didn't know what was worse, the triumphant look in his eyes or the gloat in his voice. Maybe they were equally terrible.

  "Go on, go," he said and almost shooed us out like we were dogs or sheep.

  I did feel kind of sheepish; I had to admit.

  Outside in the street, as the gate closed behind us, Commissioner Maycock approached me, his eyes scowling.

  "I am sorry," I said. "I was so certain."

  "You're off the case," he said. "Done."

  He sounded like I was one of his employees that he had just demoted. I felt compelled to remind him that I was actually here on my vacation and had helped him out on this case of my own free will and because he needed me, but I didn't. Instead, I nodded in agreement.

  "We'll deal with this ourselves," the com
missioner continued. "You’ve embarrassed the entire Royal Bahamian Police Force. You’ve harassed a perfectly innocent man."

  "I wouldn't call him perfectly innocent…" I said.

  Maycock lifted his finger to make me stop.

  "You have brought us nothing but trouble. Mr. Sakislov is a very important contributor to our country."

  "Again, I am sor…"

  Commissioner Maycock shook his head.

  "Maybe it would be best if you and your daughter left tomorrow. Go back to your hotel now. I will send for a car to make sure you make it to the airport tomorrow. Good night."

  With those words, the commissioner turned around with a grunt, then walked to his car where one of his officers was holding the door for him. The car shook as he got in, and a second later, they drove off.

  I glanced at Emily. How had I messed this trip up so terribly? I had completely lost track of why we were here originally, and now we were being forced to leave.

  "I ruined everything. I am sorry," I said to her as we walked toward our rental car, the warm evening air embracing us like blankets.

  Emily looked up at me, then wrapped her arm under mine.

  "I'm not," she said.

  Chapter 65

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  For once, it wasn't only Emily who had no appetite for dinner. As we sat in the hotel restaurant, neither of us touched our food or spoke. It was game night at the hotel, and they were showing a college football game featuring local Bahamian teams.

  Halfway through my conch fries and beer, my phone vibrated in my pocket, and I picked it up. The number on the display was American.

  "Ryder here."

  "Jack, it's Irene."

  "Irene, hi," I said.

  "I have taken a look at the email you sent me."

  Irene was a well-known FBI-profiler who I knew from my days back in Miami. I had worked with her on many occasions when trying to profile a killer. She was the best in her field. I had completely forgotten that I had written to her about the case a few days earlier.

  I sat up straight. "Yes, and?"

  "I've spent all day thinking about it and then, just a few minutes ago, it struck me. The words tattooed on the girls’ bodies. They are your clues. I think they are their final words."

  "Final words?" I asked when something happened in the game, and everyone stood to their feet, cheering. I signaled to Emily that I was going to walk away to hear better, and she nodded to let me know she understood.

  "How did you come to that conclusion?" I added as I found a spot by the hotel pool where I could hear better.

  "It's the first word that gets to me," Irene said.

  "Please?"

  "Yes. It sounds like something you'd say right before you die, right? It fits with the fact that he cuts out their tongues. You know to silence them forever. Anyway, it's just a theory. Something for you to work with."

  "But…" I said. "They don't seem to make sense. The words. What is he trying to say?"

  "As I said, it is just a theory, but…"

  "Yes?"

  "Maybe it's not the killer but the victims that are trying to tell you something," she said. "Listen, it was just a thought. I gotta go now, but let me know how this ends, okay?"

  I hung up and stared at the phone for a few seconds. Could she be right? Were the victims really trying to tell me something? In that case, what? What did the words mean?

  I walked back to Emily.

  "The game ended, and everyone is going home," she said. "I think they won. They all seemed so happy." She studied me as I sat down across the table from her. "What's wrong?"

  I explained to her what the profiler had told me, and she got that pensive look on her face once again.

  "I can understand 'please,'" I said. "And 'panic' even, but what about the others?"

  "Church and Joy?" she asked.

  "Yes. What are they supposed to mean? Is it religious?"

  She stared at me, biting her lip. "I don't think panic is something you'd say right before you die. You might yell help, no, or please, but not panic."

  "Good point," I said and sipped my beer. "Maybe Irene was wrong."

  Emily's eyes were flickering back and forth. I could tell she was thinking about something. She grabbed her phone and began to type. Then she grumbled something and typed something else.

  "What?" I asked. "What are you thinking?"

  Emily smiled and looked up from her phone, then turned it so I could look at the display.

  "I’m thinking that Irene is right. She is so right."

  Chapter 66

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  "How could I have been this stupid? How could I have been this ignorant? The answer was right in front of me the entire time!"

  I was rushing through downtown Nassau, running every red light I came across.

  "That goes for the both of us," Emily said.

  I gave her a look. My smart daughter.

  "Okay, then we. How did we not see this? I mean, how did we not think about the fact that Church was a high-end English shoe brand of hand-made luxury leather shoes and that Joy by Jean Patou was a perfume worn only by the extremely rich since it costs around six hundred dollars per bottle?"

  "Known as the costliest perfume in the world," Emily added. "And the very perfume I saw in the bathroom at the Chauncey's house when I was there hanging out with Sydney."

  "That combined with the fact that Mrs. Chauncey, aka The White Lady, was so busy finding a scapegoat to take the fall. It always struck me as odd," I said. "I mean, why would she tell Juan to sign a confession? Why would she force Sofia to?"

  "Because she was hiding something," Emily said. "Maybe even covering for someone, probably her husband."

  "I have a feeling we're onto something," I said and drove up to the gate with the big sign saying Lyford Cay.

  I rolled down the window so that the guard could see me. "Hi there, Jason," I said, recognizing him from earlier.

  "We need to get back in, please."

  Jason got up from his chair and approached the window. "No can do, I’m afraid."

  "Excuse me?"

  He shook his head. "I am sorry, Jack. I have strict orders not to let you in again."

  "But…Commissioner Maycock…"

  He shook his head again. "I can't let you in. You've been banned from ever entering Lyford Cay again. Maycock told us this."

  "You're kidding me. I'm a detective. There's a girl…she's in there, and…he'll kill her if you don't let me in."

  "I am sorry," Jason said. "My hands are tied."

  I stared at the man behind the thick glass. I couldn't believe this. Why did this have to happen now? Now that we were so close?

  I sighed and backed out of the entrance area, then left.

  "Where are we going?" Emily asked. "Dad, you gotta help the girl. You've got to get in there."

  "I will," I said and accelerated down the street.

  "How? Maycock won't help you. He wants you gone; you know that. He'll send a car tomorrow to make sure we're going to the airport."

  "It'll all be over by then," I said.

  I followed the large wall enclosing the neighborhood closely, then turned the car down a small trail toward the beach and stopped as we reached the sand.

  Emily looked out the window, then back at me.

  "What are we doing here? There's no one here. How will you save Coraline? Sydney's in that house too; we need to help her, Dad. How will you do that?"

  "I have my ways," I said and got out of the car, then stared at the big ocean in front of me, where the moonlight was glistening on the surface.

  The ocean.

  My friend and companion through all my life. The big dark blue.

  Once again, you're going to be my savior.

  Chapter 67

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  The small diving shop was closed, but someone was still in there closing up. I saw the lights, then pulled the doors and kno
cked when I realized it was locked. The shop was located on the beach in a small wooden shack. I had noticed it before when driving by.

  "Hey," I said, knocking hard on the glass. "Could you please open? I need your help."

  The man looked in my direction. "We are closed, sorry."

  "No, please, this is urgent."

  The man hesitated for a few seconds, then walked to the doors. I placed my badge in the window, so he could see I wasn't someone there to rob him.

  "Police, American."

  He turned the lock and opened the door. "American, huh?"

  I nodded. "Yes. A girl is in danger, and I need some equipment."

  "I can't. It's after closing time; I am sorry," the man said. "Come again tomorrow."

  I pulled out my wallet. "I have money."

  That seemed to do the trick. The guy nodded eagerly as I handed him a couple of hundred-dollar bills and he told me to take whatever I needed.

  "What are you doing, Dad?" Emily said as I approached the tanks and picked up a set of fins.

  "A boat they'll notice even if it is dark out. There are cameras at the docks. If I come in under water, they'll never see me."

  "You can't be serious," she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

  "Oh, I am very serious," I said. "I’m going in."

  She shook her head. "No, not about that. I meant you can't seriously think I'll let you go in alone?"

  I looked up at her. "Oh, no. You're not going with me, you hear me? You stay here and wait for me."

  She grabbed a set of fins and looked at them. "These should fit me. Now, I just need a snorkel and tanks."

  "I am serious, Em. It'll be dangerous. Don't be naïve."

  "I am nineteen years old, Dad; how many times do I have to tell you? You're the one who is naïve if you think you can do this without my help. You're the one who always tells me that two are better than one. I’m not letting you go in there alone, and that's the end of this discussion."