Jack Ryder Mystery Series: Vol 4-6

by Willow Rose

  God, if you gave me this chance, then grant me the wisdom to know how to get out too. I don't think you gave me this miracle, this second chance, if you didn't also provide a way out for me.

  Coraline got up and staggered to the stone wall. She had seen him come through it several times now and knew it opened, but how? Coraline placed both palms on the wall and tried to push it with all her strength, but nothing happened.

  Of course, it wasn't that easy.

  In deep pain, Coraline pushed one stone after another, knowing that the button was there somewhere, even though it was well hidden. She was sobbing because of the pain in her body and the fear of not making it out in time, and she pressed and pulled at each and every stone she could reach, but nothing happened.

  "Please, God," she said and slammed her fist into the wall, crying, then sunk to the floor. She was sitting on her knees with her head bent down when the wall suddenly began moving in front of her like her tears had moved it somehow, or she had said a magical word.

  Open Sesame.

  Eyes growing wide, heart beating fast in her chest, she expected to see the man's face on the other side, but much to her surprise, it wasn't his glaring eyes that appeared as the door slid open.

  Chapter 72

  Lyford Cay, Bahamas, October 2018

  When we reached the basement, Sydney stopped in front of a large stone wall. Sydney looked at it, then felt the stones one after another. I had explained to her that we were looking for a young girl who had been kidnapped and we believed Mr. Chauncey was keeping her here and that we were hoping to find her alive.

  It didn't take Sydney long to find the button to open the secret door. As it slid open, she looked back at us confidently.

  "I’ve seen him go in here before."

  As the door was fully opened, we rushed inside. I ran across the floor to the bathroom and looked inside, holding up the gun in case someone tried to attack me. When there was no one in there either, I ran back into the room, shaking my head in desperation.

  "No one is here?"

  "Coraline?" Emily yelled, but as expected, no one answered.

  "Coraline?" I repeated.

  "Coraline?" Emily tried again.

  I threw out my arms. "She's not here."

  "She was though," Emily said and looked down at the floor beneath me. "Look at your feet."

  I did and realized I had stepped in a small pool of blood. There was a trail of it leading toward the door.

  "They took her out. They must know we're here," I said and held the gun tighter in my hand. I rushed out of the room again and down the hallway, where I kicked open a wooden door and entered what appeared to be a wine cellar.

  In the middle was a dining room table and someone—or rather something—was sitting at the end of it.

  I approached it, holding the gun up and looking around me to make sure there weren't any surprises to suddenly jump out at me.

  "Yuck," Emily said coming up behind me, staring at the old skeleton and the jar with the floating tongue in it.

  "What the heck is this?" I asked, looking at Sydney. "Or let me rephrase that, who is it?"

  Chapter 73

  Lyford Cay, Bahamas, March 2003

  At thirty years old, the girl had grown both beautiful and strong. Working in the house or helping out in the yard while growing up had given her strength like none of the other girls possessed. She was also tall, taller than any of them, and she was smart. Listening in on Dylan's private lessons had taught her everything she needed to know to outsmart everyone else.

  Being only a few years younger than her, Dylan followed her around, admiring every step she took and listening to everything she had to say. Soon, she learned she could easily twist him around her little finger, and life at the house was beginning to get quite comfortable for her. She no longer dreamt of leaving or running away to find her biological family. Her family was here now, in this house where she had spent most of her life. And as long as she had Dylan, who adored everything about her, she was quite happy.

  Almost, that was. Every now and then, she could still taste the metallic anger in her mouth, and it was becoming a nuisance. It happened mostly around The White Lady. That was when she would see the pictures in her mind of Carla lying on the floor, bleeding to death, and hear the scraping sound of Gabrielle's fingernails against the metal door, so loud it almost hurt her head.

  The girl stood outside the wine cellar and waited for Dylan as he showed up, grinning that goofy grin of his that he always did when seeing her. He approached her, then grabbed her by the waist and kissed her, sticking his tongue down her throat. The girl kissed him back. She enjoyed his touches and their occasional sex in the basement or the pool house.

  "You ready for this?" she asked him as his tongue left her mouth.

  He nodded. "It's time."

  She was sitting at the end of the old wooden dining table as they both entered. Dylan closed the heavy door behind him and, as it was shut, The White Lady looked up from her newspaper, a disgusted look on her face.

  "Ah, it's you two. What do you want?"

  Next to her on the table stood a glass of wine that she sipped before returning to her newspaper, obviously not interested in getting an answer to that question.

  This was part of her routine. She always had a glass of wine in the cellar while reading her newspaper before bedtime.

  "Make it quick," she said, still not looking up.

  "Mama?" Dylan asked.

  She lifted her gaze, then sipped her wine before forcing a smile. "Yes, darling."

  He grabbed the girl's hand in his. "I…we have something we would like to tell you."

  She stared, repulsed, at their hands, then gave them a look of disapproval.

  "We're in love," Dylan said.

  The White Lady stared at them. First, her eyes landed on Dylan, then the girl, then back at her son. A tic started to form in the corner of her eye when she suddenly burst into laughter.

  As the laughter subsided, she wiped her eyes and said. "No, you're not. Now, go."

  Dylan stepped forward. "But, Mama, please, listen to us."

  "No. I will not," she said, then stared at the girl, pointing her finger at her. "Vermin. You're nothing but vermin, disgusting pests that should be eradicated. I should have gotten rid of you a long time ago."

  "But, Mama, please," Dylan said, stepping forward.

  The White Lady rose to her feet. She walked to the wall, where an old army saber was hanging. It was her grandfather’s, she had once told the girl, and she wanted it on the wall to remind her of him, the old bastard.

  Now, she was taking it down from the wall, slowly, then looking at her son. "Dylan, son. One day, you'll learn that there's a difference between these people and you."

  "What are you saying, Mama?" he asked as The White Lady approached the girl with the saber between her hands, her eyes fixated on the girl.

  "Mama? What are you going to do?"

  "I’m going to end this once and for all," she said, walking closer. "No son of mine will be seen with…with vermin like her."

  As she approached the girl, the girl didn't move. She wasn't afraid of The White Lady, at least not enough to want to show her. She stood her ground and stared down at the smaller woman dressed all in white, while thinking of all the hours she had spent in her room locked behind bolted doors, crying and fearing The White Lady's wrath. She thought about all the times The White Lady had beaten her, and of all the other girls and women she had hurt or even killed. And that was when she realized this had to end now. The house—enormous as it was—wasn't big enough for the both of them.

  As The White Lady swung the saber at the girl, the girl reacted quickly. She reached out her hand and grabbed the woman's arm. While looking into her eyes, she bent her arm backward and, when pushed, The White Lady dropped the saber. She grunted, annoyed, then threw herself at the girl, but the girl was both bigger and stronger, and soon she had her pinned to the ground, holding her down
with both arms.

  "Quick," she said. "Grab the saber."

  She then reached inside The White Lady's mouth and pulled out her tongue, pulling so hard the old woman screamed. Then, as Dylan returned with the saber, she looked up at him, and their eyes met in a rush of arousal and excitement.

  "Cut it off," she said, sweat springing from her forehead. "Cut it off. Do it NOW!"

  Dylan's nostrils flared, and his cheeks turned red as he swung the saber through the air and it cut through the tongue. The sound of it slicing through the flesh and the veins would haunt the girl for years to come, but only as a delightful shiver when remembering her first kill.

  Just like they had done with Carla, the two of them watched The White Lady bleed to death on the cold floor, while holding hands over her lifeless body, and this time they both knew this was a defining moment in their short lives. One they would always try and return to, to revive that feeling of total power.

  They decided to place her at the end of the table and put her tongue in a jar, to always remind them of how it all began.

  But before they did, the girl stripped the old lady of her white dress, becoming who she had always dreamed of being. As she put it on her own body, Dylan stared at her in awe, smiling from ear to ear.

  "You answer to me from now on, you hear me?" the girl said, and Dylan nodded.

  "Yes…Mama."

  Chapter 74

  Lyford Cay, Bahamas, October 2018

  "All I know is that she was The White Lady, the first one."

  Sydney looked up at me, then back at the dead woman. "My mom told me they killed her."

  I stared at the girl, not quite fitting all the pieces to this puzzle completely yet. "So, this is Mrs. Chauncey?"

  Sydney nodded.

  "And now there's a new one?"

  She nodded again. "Mr. Chauncey was the first White Lady's son. I never met her, but my momma told me she was terrified of her. She wasn't as bad as the new White Lady, though. Not according to my momma."

  I stared at the skeleton, then at Sydney, while trying to figure it all out. The woman in front of me had been dead for quite some time. I shook my head. Maybe the details didn't matter right now. The guy killed his mother, yes, but worst of all was that he had Coraline and there was no telling what he was capable of doing to her. And besides, whoever this mysterious new White Lady was, she was dangerous. There was no doubt about it. She needed to be stopped.

  "We should call the police," I said and found my phone when I heard a sound coming from upstairs. It was followed by a scream.

  Emily and I locked eyes.

  "Coraline."

  Gun clutched in my hand, we rushed up the stairs and into the kitchen, then stopped to listen. I wanted to know where the sound was coming from, but now everything was completely still.

  "Where are we going, Dad?" Emily asked.

  "Sh," I said. "We need to listen."

  "But it’s all quiet," she said. "And the house so big she could be anywhere. How will you…?"

  I shushed her again. I was certain I had heard something, but then it all went quiet again.

  Until I heard an engine roar.

  "The garage," I said, panting, and looked to Sydney for guidance. "Where is it?"

  She pointed. "Through that door and then down the hall to your right, but…"

  "Let's go," I said and jolted forward.

  Emily was right behind me as we ran in our wetsuits. We didn't have to run many steps before realizing it was hot and hard for our skin to breathe inside the neoprene. By the time we reached the door leading to the garage, I was sweating heavily already.

  I grabbed the handle, then slammed the door open, holding the gun out. Just in time to see an old Rolls Royce drive off, out of the garage. It was gone so fast I couldn't even get a clean shot, so I decided we'd have to follow them instead and turned to look into the garage where what looked like fifty Rolls Royces were staring back at me.

  Chapter 75

  Lyford Cay, Bahamas, October 2018

  I found the keys on a wall in the garage. I guess it was our luck that living in a gated community made people less cautious as to where they put their car keys, so we didn't have to search for them. I picked a white seventy-six Silver Shadow and, seconds later, we bumped out of the garage and rushed down the street toward the gate, hardly even noticing that I was actually driving the car of my dreams.

  Right now, my focus was Coraline and getting to her alive. There was no way I was letting her out of my sight.

  The other Rolls had already left through the gates and, as I drove up to the gates, my heart started racing in my chest. I was worried the guard would stop us and see me, knowing he had just denied me access to the neighborhood a few hours earlier and yet here I was.

  I drove close to the entrance, then slowed down, my heart pounding. I spotted the guard inside of his little house. He was watching some game on his TV and didn't even look outside. And, much to my luck, the gate opened on its own when someone was going out of the community. The guard didn't really care much who drove out since it could only be someone he had already let in, so he didn't even look at us as I drove right through the gate without being noticed.

  I then roared down the street in the old yet beautiful automobile, pushing it to its limits, holding it steady around the curves, not letting Emily's loud shrieks of terror get to me.

  As I floored the accelerator and the Rolls roared to its max speed, I soon spotted the other Rolls—the big red one, a nineteen sixty-five Silver Shadow—a little further down the road.

  "Do you think we can catch up to them?" Emily asked, her voice trembling, her hands resting on the dashboard in front of her, her knuckles turning white with effort. Sydney was being quiet in the back seat, but I sensed she was just as scared as Emily. Driving on the other side of the road was still a challenge to me, even in this car that was created for it.

  I held my breath as we sped down a curved and narrow street. I dodged a street sign in one of the sharp turns and almost hit an old broken-down wall where there had once been a house before regaining control of the car and getting it back on the small road. After the next turn, we reached a straight road, the town of Nassau rising in front of us, the tires making crisp sounds on the asphalt.

  "I do," I said as I took the turn onto the bigger road and the car skidded sideways.

  "How?"

  "Our model is newer than theirs. They changed the engine and made it bigger."

  "Oh."

  I looked ahead. There was no traffic at this hour, complicating things. As I pressed the Silver Shadow further, I sensed we were getting closer to them, as I could almost smell the exhaust.

  Chapter 76

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  "Get her to shut up."

  "Yes, Mama."

  The girl was screaming in the back seat, and Dylan tried to cover her mouth. Then, when it didn't work, he slapped her a couple of times. It only made her scream louder. The girl sighed deeply. She was annoyed by this situation. Nothing had gone the way it was supposed to, how it usually went. And now they were running away.

  "What do we do with her once we get to the airport?" Dylan asked, his voice shivering in fear. "Why can't we just kill her now?"

  "We need her," the girl said. "In case we need to negotiate. They won't touch us as long as we have her. She's an American citizen."

  The girl looked briefly at her own reflection in the mirror. The white scarf on her head felt tighter than usual.

  Who are you? What have you become?

  The girl had become The White Lady after killing the woman who had terrorized her all through her upbringing. She had become her. Taken over her bedroom, taken over her dresses, and taken charge over the people working in the house. Even baby Ella had become hers. She had raised her like she was her own, even though Dylan had grown quite jealous of her affection for the girl over the years. The girl was his sister, and nothing but an infant when her mother was killed, yet h
e felt no affection for her whatsoever, and as the years went by, he grew to hate her more than anyone. Maybe it was because The White Lady had ended up killing their dad after she had their second child. The girl knew Dylan blamed Ella for the death of his father, even though the girl didn't quite understand why. They had both been outside the master bedroom, listening in, when he had asked for the divorce and said he wanted half of The White Lady's money. They had heard him say that he would go to the police and tell on her if she didn't do as he told her, if she refused to give him what he wanted.

  Together, the girl and Dylan had watched through a cracked door as The White Lady dismembered his body in their bedroom and put all the parts in a suitcase that she later dragged downstairs, bumping it on every step, then asked Juan to bury it in the yard. The girl guessed that Dylan needed someone to blame for the loss of his dad, and so it might as well have been Ella. She was an easy target.

  The girl and Dylan loved one another, even though they weren't really capable of loving the way you're supposed to. But they shared a love for killing. They were murderers already before they even started killing. Growing up under the murderous rule of the first White Lady, what else could they be expected to become?

  In the midst of all the terror, the killing, the burying of bodies, they had found one another, found each other in a twisted form of love, a lust, you might call it. A lust for the kill. And so, they had continued as they grew older. Dylan's mother had been the first of many.

  Life after that had been a feast for the girl. She had become the master of the house, and she now made the decisions. The workers began fearing her like they had feared her predecessor, maybe even more. She had total power and total freedom. She could leave whenever she wanted to, and Dylan even taught her to drive a car. Life became luxurious, and she felt like a queen, even though the neighbors still believed she was a servant and she pretended to be one when guests came over, which was rare.