by Lynsay Sands
They were both silent for a minute and then she said thoughtfully, "You know, my grandmother rarely mentioned Dr. Dressler in her letters, but when she did it seemed obvious she didn't care for him at all and didn't consider him an "honorable man" as she put it. I should have realized there was something up when he called. Barring that, I should have realized at the airport, or when I got to the island."
"Why at the airport?" Domitian asked with curiosity.
"Because when I landed here I didn't even go through customs," Sarita told him grimly. "We landed on the tarmac. They rolled up one of those portable stair thingies for us to disembark, and when I got to the bottom of the stairs, this big beefy guy in a suit stepped in front of me. He asked if I was Sarita Reyes. I said yes I was and, while everyone else continued into the airport and to customs, he just took my arm and steered me to this jeep. My luggage was already waiting there," she added, and when Domitian's eyebrows rose, she explained, "My seat was on the back of the plane. I was one of the last to disembark. Everyone's luggage was out and on this big metal shelf on wheels on the tarmac when I came out. Well, except my luggage, which, as I said, was already in the jeep."
When he nodded, she continued. "Anyway, the minute the big beefy guy had me in the jeep, it took off and drove farther down the tarmac to where a helicopter was waiting. Big Beefy Guy loaded me and my luggage in, plopped himself down beside me, and we took off and flew to the island. I didn't go through customs or immigration or anything," she said and then shook her head. "Jeez, I knew crime and corruption were bad here, but seriously, skipping customs and immigration? Who does that?"
Domitian merely shook his head and didn't bother mentioning that immortals did that on a regular basis. It wasn't germane to the conversation. Besides, Dressler was not immortal, although he had several at his disposal. Immortals he'd kidnapped. Perhaps the man had coerced one of them to handle things at the airport, he thought. If not, it must have cost him a lot of money to ensure Sarita's arrival in Venezuela wasn't recorded. That didn't suggest that his plans for her included her leaving, he thought with concern.
"Anyway, once we got to the island, Big Beefy Guy ordered two men to bring the luggage and then showed me up to my room. I thanked him and asked when I could see my grandmother and he said she wasn't on the island. She was in the hospital on the mainland. But would be home soon."
"I am surprised you didn't demand to go to the mainland to see her," Domitian commented.
"I did," Sarita said grimly. "But Big Beefy Guy said he couldn't authorize that--he said that I would have to wait for Dr. Dressler to return. He was the only one who could give permission for use of the helicopter or boat to take me to the mainland. In the meantime, I should just relax and enjoy my stay," Sarita finished with disgust.
"That must have been frustrating," Domitian murmured.
"Yeah, you could call it that," Sarita said dryly. "Actually, I was super P.O.'d. Especially when I found out that Big Beefy Guy had misled me. He made it sound like Dr. Dressler wasn't on the island and there was no way to contact him. Meantime, Dressler was there on the island all along, just down at his labs."
"How did you find that out?" Domitian asked.
"Aleta."
"The cook?" he asked, recognizing the name.
Sarita nodded and quickly told him about her early dinner in the kitchen and Aleta's having made El Doctor's nutrition drink. "That's when I snuck down to the labs and saw the immortal cut in half."
They were both silent for a minute, and then Sarita frowned and said, "You know, my grandmother started out as a cook and housekeeper for the Dresslers, but as she got older they brought in more help. She mentioned that someone was hired to cook, and then later someone to help with cleaning house, and I got the feeling that now she's more a companion to Mrs. Dressler."
"Si?" Domitian murmured, wondering where she was going with this.
"But none of the names matched up," Sarita said now. "I mean, I can't remember the name she mentioned--it was only the once--but I'm pretty sure the cook she named wasn't Aleta."
"Perhaps the first girl left and was replaced with this Aleta and your grandmother just didn't mention it," Domitian suggested.
"Yeah, that's what I thought too, but she also only mentioned one girl being brought in to help with housekeeping and there were at least three at the house," Sarita continued. "And before you say it, yes I know they might have hired more help over the years that Grandmother didn't mention, but on top of that, I didn't once encounter Mrs. Dressler or their son even once while I was there."
"Son?" Domitian asked with surprise. His uncle hadn't mentioned that Dressler had a son.
"Hmm . . ." Sarita nodded solemnly. "Grandmother mentioned him several times over the years. I got the feeling she thought he was the perfect son. His name is Thorondor."
"Thorondor?" Domitian asked, wincing over the unusual name. Life would be hell for a boy with a name like that. Children could be cruel.
Sarita shrugged. "I guess Mrs. Dressler was a Tolkien fan. They call him Thorne for short."
Domitian nodded, but suggested, "Perhaps this Thorne and his mother are staying in their apartment on the mainland so that Mrs. Dressler could visit your grandmother daily." He knew his uncle had sent men to check the apartment on the mainland and found it empty. But Mrs. Dressler and this Thorne fellow could have been at the hospital at the time, he supposed.
"I didn't know they had an apartment on the mainland," Sarita said slowly. "I did think maybe she was on the mainland, though, to visit Grandmother, but . . ."
"But?" he prompted.
She hesitated, and then admitted, "During the three days I was on the island, I wandered pretty much everywhere in that house. Every door was open except for Dr. Dressler's office door and I looked into every room I could." Shaking her head solemnly, she added, "There was no sign of Mrs. Dressler or Thorne. I didn't see either of them, and there were no pictures or personal items to suggest either they or my grandmother ever lived there. Every room, even what was obviously the master bedroom was . . ." Sarita frowned, searching for the words to explain what she'd found. "They all looked unlived in. They were like empty hotel rooms. Furnished and ready for occupancy, but unused at the moment."
"And when I asked Aleta where Dr. Dressler's wife and son were, she just gave me this blank look as if she'd never heard that he had a wife. Then Big Beefy Guy came into the kitchen and told me to stop bothering the staff with questions that were none of my business. He suggested I go out in the garden or otherwise amuse myself."
Domitian shook his head, not sure what to say, or even what to make of this information. He'd never really given Senora Dressler much thought. Ensuring his life mate was safe and finding out the location of the island as well as what Dr. Dressler was up to had been his only concerns when he'd agreed to go.
"As we were walking here I started to wonder if Mrs. Dressler, Thorne, and my grandmother didn't live in the small house," she added thoughtfully.
"The small house?" Domitian asked at once. "What small house? You never mentioned a small house."
"It never came up," Sarita said with a shrug.
"It is up now. Explain," he requested firmly.
She seemed amused by his stiff voice, but said, "When we flew in on the helicopter I got to see the whole island. The fenced-in area with the labs was on the tip of the island as we approached, there was a bit of jungle and then the big house came next with an open area around it. After that there was a large expanse of jungle, but at the very tip of the far end of the island there was a smaller house on the beach with a pool beside it."
"A small house with a pool?" Domitian asked, straightening from where he'd relaxed back against the base of a palm tree. His voice sharp, he added, "Like the house we just left?"
"Yeah. I considered that myself as we were walking," Sarita admitted, sounding unconcerned. "But then I thought about not encountering Mrs. Dressler or her son at the big house and decided they--and my grand
mother--probably live in the little house instead. I mean, who would want to live with Dressler? The man's a monster.
"Of course," she added with a frown. "Now that I know about the apartment, I suppose that could be where they are. The big house could be like a cottage. Where they usually stay on the weekends and in the summer when Dressler isn't teaching. That could explain the hotel air to the place." Following that through, Sarita continued slowly, "But if they normally stay in the big house and just aren't there now because they returned to the mainland to stay close to Grandmother, then the little house isn't where they live . . . which means it could be the little house that we woke up in after being drugged."
Domitian couldn't have been more stunned if she'd pulled a hammer out from under the towel she was wearing and suddenly hit him with it. For a minute his thoughts were in such chaos, he couldn't even hold on to one.
He'd rushed them out of the house to get her as far away as possible to somewhere she'd be safe from Dressler, and instead might be walking her straight into his arms.
Cursing under his breath, he leapt to his feet.
"Where are you going?" Sarita asked with alarm, getting up as well.
"It is okay. I just want to go a little farther along the beach and see if you are right and we are still on the island," he said reassuringly.
"But what if you're seen?" she asked with concern.
"I will be careful. But I have to see if you are right, mi Corazon. If we are on Dressler's island then we have to find a way off it, and quickly. And walking up to the house and asking for a ride is not the way to go about it. Just sit and rest for a bit. I will be back before you know it," he said and then turned and hurried away before she could argue further.
Sarita watched until Domitian followed the curving beach out of sight, and then turned to glance out toward the water. She'd been keeping an eye out for anyone approaching in a boat as they walked, and even if they were on the island with the house and labs as she suspected, she still had to because water was the only way to approach the house.
From the helicopter, Sarita had thought she'd spotted a road disappearing into the jungle in the direction of the little house, but if that's where they were, apparently it didn't go all the way to it. They'd double-checked before setting out and hadn't found even so much as a dirt path to walk on.
Movement out of the corner of her eye drew Sarita's head quickly around, but she relaxed when she spotted Domitian jogging toward her. Her first reaction was relief, until she noted the vexed expression on his face.
"What's wrong?" she asked as he stopped and simply gathered the ends of first one towel and then the other.
Domitian didn't really answer her question. He merely slung both Santa sacks over his shoulder as he straightened. Turning back the way he'd come, he then said, "Come with me," and started walking at a quick clip.
Sarita frowned and hurried after him, but his legs were longer, allowing him to take larger strides. The shifting sand underfoot didn't help either. It had made walking difficult even when they'd been moving at the slower pace they'd settled into on leaving the house, which was why they'd moved down to walk in the wet and more solid surf despite the risk of being spotted by an approaching boat. Domitian had matched his stride to hers then so as not to leave her behind, but he wasn't now. He seemed to be in the grip of some strong emotion and eager to get to where he was taking her, so Sarita bit back her protest at his speed and tried to move a little more quickly.
With her focus on Domitian and keeping up with him, Sarita didn't notice the dock at first when it appeared before them. Or anything else really, until he stopped and turned back to peer at her.
Slowing, Sarita took in his inscrutable expression and finally glanced around at their surroundings. Her heart stuttered with anxiety when she spotted the dock a little ahead on their left, and her head quickly jerked to the right even as her feet stopped moving altogether, but then she just gaped at the house above the beach.
Sarita didn't know what she was expecting to see. The dock was much smaller than the one in front of Dr. Dressler's house. Still, the last thing she expected was to find herself peering at the same house she'd woken up in that morning, and which they'd left behind a little more than an hour ago.
"But--" She glanced back the way they'd come, briefly wondering if they'd somehow got turned around and come back the way they'd left, but even as she did it, she knew that wasn't what had happened. She had been wrong. This wasn't Dr. Dressler's island. At least not the one where the houses and labs were. It was a different, much smaller island . . . and they'd just walked all the way around it and right back to the house they'd been trying to escape.
Eight
Sarita surfaced in the pool and ran her hands over her hair, pushing the water back along the soaking strands and away from her face. Letting her hands drop into the water, she then peered toward the waterfall with a little sigh. It was as beautiful at night as it had been during the day. There were lights in the pool as well as along the edges of the waterfall. They were also on the house, brightening the terrace. So, even at night it was a truly beautiful spot, a little bit of paradise in the middle of the ocean.
Too bad it was like that Eagles' song, Sarita thought, you could never leave. At least, that's how it seemed to her, because as far as she could tell, they were stuck there.
Sighing again, she leaned back to float in the water and stared up at the night sky overhead. By her guess, perhaps half an hour had passed since Domitian had led her to the beach in front of the house. After getting over her shock at finding herself there again and realizing the ramifications, Sarita had glanced at Domitian. He'd noted her expression and then had turned silently and led her back into the house.
They hadn't said a word to each other since. Domitian had simply set down the bags on the floor in the entry and then had disappeared into the office. Sarita had briefly considered unpacking the bags and putting everything away, but then had thought, Why bother?
She'd headed for the bedroom and the bathroom beyond. Their excursion, short as it had been, had left her hot and sweaty and covered with sand; a shower had seemed a good idea. But once she'd got there, she'd simply stood in the bathroom and looked around at the opulent setting, her stomach churning. It was part of a prison. A pretty prison, but a prison just the same and Sarita suddenly couldn't bear even being inside.
Turning, she'd retraced her steps and made her way back out to the living room where the pool had caught her eye. The cool water had seemed to be calling out to her, offering to soothe her stressed body. The next thing Sarita knew she was moving to the doors. By the time she'd reached them, she had undone the two pins fastening the towel to her bathing suit top. She'd opened the door and stepped out to walk to the edge of the pool, undoing the last pin, the one that kept the towel closed, as she went. Then she'd simply let the pins and towel drop and made a shallow dive into the pool.
Now she lay in the cooling water, surrounded by the soothing sounds of nature. The whisper of the breeze through the trees of the jungle surrounding the pool. The twitter of night birds. The splash of water traveling over the rock waterfall at one end of the pool . . .
It should have been a little slice of heaven--instead, it was a kind of hell.
"Sarita?"
Straightening in the water, she turned toward the house, spotting Domitian at once. He'd come out of the dining room and was moving through the living room toward the door to the bedroom as he searched for her. She called out to him and he paused at once and glanced her way.
Spotting her through the glass doors, Domitian used the one she'd left open and slipped outside to stand by the pool. He then just stared at her.
Sarita stared back, wondering why he'd gone to the office.
"Are you okay?" he asked finally.
"As okay as a cockroach in a Roach Motel," she said sarcastically. When confusion covered his face, she realized he wouldn't understand the reference and explained, "They are cockr
oach traps. The cockroach goes in, but is caught and can't get back out."
Domitian didn't smile at her poor joke. Expression serious he said, "We are not trapped, Sarita. I promise I will get you off this island and take you somewhere safe."
"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep."
"I can keep it," he assured her.
"You're forgetting that Dr. Dressler could be back at any moment. He could be pulling up to the dock in a boat right now," she pointed out.
"He will not come here so soon," Domitian assured her.
"You can't know that," she said.
"His letter said he had this house renovated and updated for just this eventuality," he reminded her and pointed out, "He would hardly go to that trouble and expense for one day's use."
"True," Sarita said thoughtfully. She'd forgotten about that part of the letter. "But why did he do it? What the hell does he want from us?" she asked, and heard the frustration in her own voice.
"I do not know," Domitian admitted, and then announced, "I made us a meal."
Sarita almost snapped that she wasn't hungry, but she actually was, and taking out her temper on him would not get her the answers she wanted. Shaking her head, she moved to the stairs and walked out of the pool.
Domitian was waiting with a towel held open.
"Thank you," Sarita murmured, when he wrapped it around her shoulders. Clutching the ends under her chin, she moved past him, saying, "I'll just go change. I'll be quick."
If he responded, she didn't hear it as she hurried back inside.
Two minutes later, Sarita had removed the damp towel Domitian had wrapped around her and was glancing from it to the somewhat lacking wardrobe that was available to her. She briefly considered pulling on a dry swimsuit and pinning a fresh towel to it, one that wasn't damp, but really all the remaining swimsuits had thong bottoms that were just plain uncomfortable. She wasn't eager to wear any of them. Besides, the towel she'd worn as a toga that day was a dirty heap by the pool, the one she'd just removed was damp and would be uncomfortable, and between their using them after showers and swimming, and her raiding them to carry their items, the stack of towels was shrinking quickly. They'd soon be out of clean towels if she kept using them as clothing.
