Jack Ryder Mystery Series: Vol 4-6

by Willow Rose

  Seven years after getting rid of Dylan's mother, things began to go downhill between them, and Dylan grew tired of the girl. He went into town and got himself drunk one night and met a girl in a bar. Laurie Roberts was her name. He brought her back to the house, and that was where the girl found her the next morning. Sleeping next to him in one of the guesthouses. She stood by her side and watched her as she slept, thinking about The White Lady and then tasted the metallic taste of anger in the back of her mouth again.

  So, she beat her up. In a fit of jealousy and anger, the girl threw herself at her and beat her senseless. Waking up from his heavy hangover sleep, Dylan watched her as she beat Laurie to a bloody pulp while feeling strangely aroused. He then left the room and came back with a knife from the kitchen and, together, they cut out the girl's tongue, then watched her bleed to death on the bed, while holding hands across her dying body.

  Killing the girl had, in a sick way, brought them back together, back to what they had initially shared.

  And so, they had continued.

  Three years later, when they sensed they were once again drifting apart, Dylan had been to a party at the neighbor's house, Mr. Sakislov. That was back when they tolerated one another and pretended to be friends, even though Dylan couldn't stand him and his ways. There he had been presented to a girl that the playboy next door had met downtown. The next night, Dylan Chauncey had parked his Rolls downtown near a bar and picked up Annie Turner, wearing a silver wig, pretending to be the pretentious neighbor, hoping he would take the fall if it should come to that.

  They had trapped Annie Turner in the panic room and kept her for days. The girl had beaten her up, getting rid of all that rage inside of her, rage against white women, while Dylan had cut out her tongue, and then tattooed her final word on her back, just like they had ended up doing to Laurie and just like they would later do to other girls.

  And, of course, the girl had a plan B that came in handy when Sakislov managed to pay his way out of being a suspect. After the third kill, Jill Carrigan, she sacrificed Juan, whom she had grown tired of anyway.

  You might say that the girl took over Dylan's mother's position in his life. She wore the white dresses, and she told him what to do, and he started calling her mama. The girl didn't mind; she liked it when he looked at her the same way he had looked at his mama; in awe and fascination along with a good portion of fear.

  As she rushed down the road, Coraline Stuart screaming in the back seat, the girl couldn't stop thinking about The White Lady and the way she had looked at her just before she died. The contempt in her eyes. The vibration of her tight upper lip. Vermin, she had called her.

  She had no idea how right she was.

  The girl glanced at herself in the mirror once again; then she spotted a set of headlights reflected in the mirror, the lights growing closer and closer till they almost lit up the cabin of the car.

  Chapter 77

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  "You're almost there, Dad. You're almost up on their side!"

  I pressed as hard as I could on the accelerator and managed to get the old car up to a whopping hundred and twenty. I couldn't believe this old car could actually go so fast, and soon I passed the taillights and then the back of the car.

  "I see her," Sydney yelled. "I saw a hand on the window."

  "Was it Coraline's?" I asked.

  "I think so," Sydney said. "It looked like she was trying to signal us, let us know she was in there."

  "I see it too," Emily said. "But someone keeps pulling her hand away."

  "Let me get up on their side," I said, as the car sped up past the driver's window. I honked the horn to make them understand that I wanted them to stop, then raised my gun and placed it in the window. Then I turned my head to look at the driver. The sight that met me made me ease up on the accelerator in surprise.

  "Is that…Rosie?" Emily asked just as confused. "The housekeeper?"

  I nodded, baffled. The lady that had shown us inside the first time we were in the Chaunceys’ house, the lady who had stared at me with her chilling eyes while Emily and Sydney got to know one another? She was The White Lady? I guess I should have known since she was wearing a white dress when I saw her; I could just never have imagined that she would…that she would be…her. I guess it is needless to say that I was quite startled.

  "So, one of the slaves became the master, huh?" I said.

  "Rather be the hunter than the prey, right?" Emily said as I once again put pressure on the accelerator and the car pushed forward.

  Rosie stared at me, then at the gun in my hand, and I rolled down the window to signal for her to stop, that it was over, there was nowhere for them to go.

  Yet, she didn't. Of course, she wouldn't give in that easily. Instead, she turned the steering wheel and her car slung to the side, straight into ours, pushing us off the road.

  We bumped into a grassy area, ran through a wooden fence, then back up on the road, right behind her again.

  I then raised my gun again, and fired a shot at their car, hitting the back. It was a warning shot, to make sure she understood I meant business. Still, she continued like nothing had happened. I tried to get up on her side again, but this time, she wouldn't give me room for it. Every time I tried, she would change lanes and block my way.

  "You need to shoot out her tire," Emily said. "That'll slow her down."

  "I’m trying to," I said. "But I can't get good aim."

  "Here, let me do it," Emily said and reached out her hand like she wanted me to put the gun in it.

  I gave her a look. She gave me one back.

  "Dad. I can do it."

  "No."

  "Yes, I can," she said and reached over and grabbed the gun from my hand. "How many times do I have to tell you, I’m nineteen," she yelled, leaned out the window, took aim, and planted a perfect shot straight in the right tire. The car in front of us started to skid sideways, first to the right side, then left as Rosie was trying to regain control, and then it was slowing down, just like Emily had foreseen. Seconds later, we were in front of it, blocking its way and both cars came to a halt.

  Chapter 78

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  I grabbed the gun from Emily, then got out of the car, holding it up in front of me, pointing it at them, still staying covered behind the car door so it would protect me in case they too were armed.

  "Come out," I said. "Hands over your head."

  Nothing happened.

  "I said, come out, hands over your head!" I repeated, my heart still pounding from the car chase, worrying for what they were doing inside that car. Why weren't they coming out? Didn't they realize it was over?

  I heard loud, agitated voices coming from inside of the car and, seconds later, a gunshot went off.

  Emily and I exchanged a look right before I stormed to the car and opened the front door. Out fell Rosie, bleeding from her forehead, where a bullet had gone through. She slid to the asphalt, her brown eyes staring into thin air.

  I stuck my head inside and found Coraline sitting in the back seat, a terrified expression on her face. Next to her sat Dylan Chauncey, the gun in his hand, placed on his temple, his hand shaking.

  "Come any closer, and I'll pull the trigger," he said, sobbing. He stared at Rosie's dead body, sweat springing from his forehead. "She always told us this was our only way out. We couldn't go to jail. People like me disappear in those jails, she said. It was the only thing in life she was truly afraid of. She could face everything else. Seeing her grandparents die. Being locked up for her entire life. Watching the woman she loved like a mother being killed. Being broken and beaten over and over again. Anything. She was the strongest woman I have ever known."

  "It's over, Mr. Chauncey," I said and reached out my hand. I shot Coraline a glance and could tell she was about to lose it. "Just hand me the gun, and then we'll talk, okay? I'd like to hear everything about your Rosie. I bet she was very special to you."

  "She w
as the love of my life. I…I…" he said, his hand shaking so badly the gun rattled in his hand.

  Coraline whimpered next to him. I wondered if the bullet could kill her too if he fired. If he missed or somehow turned the gun in the last second, then it would.

  "It's okay, Mr. Chauncey," I said. "We'll figure it out. No more people need to die today."

  "I loved her," he sobbed. "She was everything. She was the only one who understood me."

  "I’m sure she was, Mr. Chauncey," I said. "I’m sure she was all kinds of special. I have one of those myself, and I think we should talk about that. About how much you loved her and were willing to do for her. What you had together was quite unique."

  "It was. It really was. You'll never understand."

  "Then I expect you to explain it to me."

  Dylan Chauncey made a groaning sound like he was about to scream, but couldn't get the sound across his lips, then bent slightly forward. I interpreted it that he was about to give me the gun and reached out my hand further, but as he lifted his glance and stared into mine, I knew it was over.

  Dylan Chauncey pulled the trigger, and Coraline exploded in an ear-piercing scream.

  Chapter 79

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  "I’m still not sure I understand this story fully, but I guess a thank you is in order. And maybe an apology."

  Commissioner Maycock reached out his hand toward me. We were sitting at the police station in Nassau two days later.

  As soon as Mr. Chauncey shot himself, I had called Maycock and told him everything. At first, he had been skeptical and told me he sure didn't enjoy being woken up in the middle of the night for a practical joke, but once I had explained to him that we had Coraline Stuart, alive, he had understood I was being serious.

  He had then arrived along with an ambulance and what seemed like his entire crew of officers and I had told him the entire incredible story. Now, as Coraline had been reunited with her mother and we had been able to tell the Elkingtons the truth about their daughter's death, it was time to say goodbye. Emily and I were going home later that same afternoon, and to be frank, we were both quite looking forward to it.

  Sofia and Juan had both been released from prison the very next day, and Sofia reunited with her daughter. I had helped them with money to buy tickets to get back to Columbia. The Columbian Embassy had helped them with temporary passports, urged along by Commissioner Maycock, who I suspected felt like he owed Sofia one. Together, Sydney and Sofia wanted to start a new life back in their home country, a life of freedom.

  Sofia had come here when she was just ten years old and was supposed to continue to the U.S. and find her parents and Lisa who had been born while her parents were in Florida, a sister she had never known and never would. But the uncle she had traveled with had ended up taking money from some terrible people and sold her into slavery in the Bahamas, a country she was only meant to pass through on her way to be reunited with her family. Sydney was born in the Bahamas, but there were no records of her existence since she had been born in slavery, in the back house of the Chaunceys’ million-dollar mansion.

  Once she had been released, and she dared to talk to us, she had explained that she had been too terrified for Sydney's life, so she hadn't dared to say a word when we had visited her. We had also learned that Sofia was actually Emily's aunt and my former partner, Lisa, her sister. That meant that Sydney was her cousin. It also meant that back in Columbia waited more relatives, but Emily wasn't ready to look for any more of them right now, she told me. They were going to stay in touch; that was the plan. Maybe one day Sydney and Sofia would be able to come live with us in Florida. I wanted that for them so badly, especially for Emily's sake, but it was a long process and, until then, we'd have to just call and write.

  The workers at the Chaunceys’ house had all disappeared. Once the police got to the estate after Rosie and Dylan Chauncey shot themselves, they were no longer on the property. Maycock had explained to me that they had undoubtedly run away and would probably end up in the streets or in the hands of other unscrupulous people who would exploit the fact that they were here illegally. It was the sad reality for many illegal immigrants who came to the islands, he had told me. Meanwhile, they had dogs search the premises and found human remains in the backyard along with Mrs. Chauncey's skeleton in the basement. They were now going to dig up the entire area and try to ID the people buried out there in order to find their next of kin and alert them if possible. It was a massive puzzle and was going to take months if not years to solve.

  "Have a safe trip back, and if you ever come back to the Bahamas, then please go do something touristy, will you?"

  I shook Maycock's hand, and he escorted me to the door while laughing wholeheartedly. I had to admit, I had grown to like the old commissioner.

  "I’ll try my best," I said as I took one last glance at the tall Commissioner Maycock, who was holding his belly and chuckling, reminding me for some strange reason suddenly of Santa.

  Chapter 80

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  Emily was waiting for me back at the hotel. She was packing up and, as I entered, she stood with her scale between her hands, staring at it.

  "Do you realize I haven't weighed myself in at least a week?" she said, not looking up at me as I walked in. "I guess I completely forgot."

  I closed the door behind me, then approached her, my heart throbbing in my throat.

  "Yeah? Well, so what?" I said, trying to sound all casual about it, pretending like I didn't know this was a huge deal.

  She put the scale down on the ground, then stared at it. She put one foot on it and let it lean there for a few seconds.

  "I bet I gained at least several pounds," she said. "With all the food I’ve been eating while we worked on this case."

  I shrugged, not telling her she had eaten, yes, but barely anything compared to anyone else. But for her it was a lot, I knew that much.

  She looked up, and her eyes met mine. "I don't think I care."

  I felt tears in my eyes but held them back. "Really?" I said, my voice becoming uncomfortably shrill.

  She nodded and removed her foot from the scale. "I think I'll wait till we get back home."

  She grabbed the scale and put it back in her suitcase, then closed it with a smile. I fought not to cry while praying on the inside that she would throw out that stupid scale once we did get back home.

  "So…" I said and looked at my watch. "We still have five hours before we leave. What do you want to do? You want to do something touristy?"

  She made a face. "Not really."

  "Nah, me either. After this vacation we've had, I can't wait to get back home and get to work," I said laughing.

  "How about we just relax a little then head for the airport?" she asked.

  "Sounds like a plan." I threw myself on the bed and turned on the TV and, seconds later, dozed off, while Emily went on her computer.

  About an hour later, I woke up because Emily was shaking my arm. "Dad. Dad. Wake up."

  I blinked my eyes, trying to get back to reality. My sleep had been heavy and my dream vivid.

  "What's going on?"

  "She was strangled to death," she said almost out of breath.

  I sat up. "What are you talking about?"

  She showed me her computer. "Ella Maria Chauncey. I just read it in the autopsy report. She was strangled to death."

  "You hacked…again?" I asked.

  "Yes, well actually, it was an article in a newspaper that I just read that mentioned it. They said she was found strangled in her own pool and I couldn't believe it. It doesn't fit. All the others bled to death because their tongues were cut out. They suffocated, but Ella Maria didn't. She had bruises on her neck. And here's another thing: Ella Maria's tongue wasn't cut out until after she was dead. I can't believe we didn't see it before."

  I stared at my daughter, suddenly very awake. "And she didn't have a tattoo either. I remember thinking about it, w
ondering about it, but concluding that it didn't matter. But, of course, it did."

  Emily shook her head. "It wasn't the same killer. It was someone else."

  "But…who?"

  Emily gave me a look. "I think I might know. There’s something else you need to see."

  Chapter 81

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  I rushed through the lobby, bumping into people, making halfhearted excuses as I continued on my way, Emily coming up right behind me, panting heavily. People were walking, lost in their own thoughts, dragging suitcases behind them as we stormed past them and past the three-man band playing happy music for the arriving passengers.

  Some yelled at us for bursting through the lines, and someone in a uniform even tried to stop us until I showed my badge.

  "American police. This is an emergency."

  I had called Maycock from the car, and he was also on his way but would be minutes behind us. He told me he would call and make sure the plane didn't leave and now I just feared that they might realize we were coming for them and get away.

  We found them at the gate. They were sitting by the window, looking out at the planes landing and leaving, looking like any other mother and daughter ready for a new adventure.

  Sydney lit up when she saw us. But it only lasted a few seconds before she realized something was wrong.

  "J-Jack?" she said and approached us, a confused look in her eyes. "Emily? What's going on?"

  Her mother, Sofia, stayed in her seat. Her big eyes rested on us while we spoke to her daughter.

  "You were pregnant, weren't you?" I asked, out of breath.

  Sydney gave me a strange look. "W-what are you talking about?"

  Emily stepped forward. "We read the police report. In December of 2017, you were brought to the hospital because you were bleeding heavily."