CHAPTER ELEVEN
Leaving her car parked along the curb, she took a walk down the block toward the harbor. On her way past the police station, she glanced at the lot across the street where all the police cars were parked. The lot was nearly full. Puzzled, she wondered why more cars weren’t out and about on the island. Shouldn’t they be “serving and protecting,” or whatever their motto was?
Reaching the busy thoroughfare that ran along the waterfront, Olivia waited for the light to change so she could cross to the other side safely. A young boy on the sidewalk peddled water bottles from a basket on his bike. The large cruise ship docked across the harbor at Havensight dwarfed everything else around it.
Crossing the street and turning right, Olivia found it comforting to be near the water. There was something about the salty sea breeze on her face and the mesmerizing turquoise water as it lapped against the wall along the edge. Olivia imagined during tropical storms or, worse, hurricanes, waves crashed up over the sidewalk and covered the road, flooding the stores along the waterfront.
Pausing to gaze past Hassel Island out to the open ocean, her thoughts were with her mother. What had happened? What terrible fate had she met? Or was she still out there somewhere? Pain tugged at her gut, which ached from loneliness.
The low vibrating sound of a ferry grew louder as it crossed the harbor. It looked like it was going to dock not far down the waterfront from her. She resumed walking and picked up her pace with the intention of meeting it. The buzz of a seaplane taking off diverted her attention momentarily as it built up speed and took off up over the harbor, banking south as if it was heading to St. Croix.
The ferry pulled up alongside the sidewalk, demonstrating it was, indeed, a relatively deep port. As she approached, a dozen passengers disembarked, some with rolling luggage, others less encumbered. Olivia patiently waited until everyone was off before she walked up to a young crew member at his post alongside the boat. He was dressed in a white short-sleeved shirt and pants that hung on his small frame like they were a half size too large.
“Excuse me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He turned his head toward her abruptly, looking slightly startled.
“Could I have a word with your captain?”
For a split second, his face fell. It didn’t look like he was confident he could make that happen. He glanced at his watch as if they were on a tight schedule.
“It would just take a moment.”
The young skipper considered her request. “All right, follow me.”
He turned and led the way onto the boat, and Olivia followed him up to the bridge where the captain talked with another crew member. Quickly ending their conversation, they turned to their unexpected visitor. The two subordinate crew members excused themselves, leaving Olivia to talk with the captain, who was also dressed in a crisp white uniform, except his had more bars on the pocket of his short-sleeved shirt. His shiny gold name tag read “Capt. John Mason,” and he certainly looked the part of a boat captain with his deeply suntanned skin and wire-rimmed sunglasses. He stepped away from the controls, removed his sunglasses, and laid his eyes upon her kindly like a proud father gazing upon his daughter. He looked to be in his mid to late forties.
“Afternoon.” He extended his right hand and they shook. “Captain Mason.”
She was close enough to smell a slight aroma of aftershave, which was unexpected.
“Afternoon, it’s Olivia.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Olivia?” He seemed overly pleased to greet her.
“Listen, I just need to ask you a question.” She needed to get right down to business.
“Sure.” He examined her face more closely.
Olivia hesitated, contemplating how to broach the subject. “I’m not exactly sure where to begin.”
The captain squinted his eyes and cocked his head as if he were sizing her up.
“You see . . .” She pursed her lips and took a quick breath inward. Finally she blurted it out. “Are you aware of any boating accidents in the last couple of weeks or so?”
“Boating accidents?”
“Yeah. Either in the U.S. Virgin Islands or the BVI.”
He considered her question. “What kind of a boat? Commercial? Private? Small craft?”
“I’m not exactly sure.”
The captain looked intently at her. “I haven’t heard of anything recently, but if it’s a small craft, word of that might not necessarily get around quickly.”
She listened to him closely. Every word. None of them helpful.
“What’s going on? Why do you think there may have been an accident?”
Olivia could sense movement behind her and felt anxious that new passengers were boarding the ferry for the return trip to wherever it had come from. She decided to use that to cut the conversation short before it got too personal.
“Look, I don’t want to hold you up. You have a schedule to stick to, and I know I am keeping you from your work.” She gestured to the passengers filling the rows of hard white wooden benches behind her and turned to make her exit, but the captain had one final word.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.”
She turned back to thank him.
“You could try checking with the Coast Guard.”
“The Coast Guard?” Her face brightened.
“Yeah.” He pointed east. “They’re right on the water, just past Vendors’ Plaza on the right. Across from the fort. They might be able to help you.”
Of course, the Coast Guard. She had forgotten they were stationed on St. Thomas. She thanked the captain for his help and slowly pushed her way off the boat, squeezing past oncoming passengers, feeling a bit like a salmon swimming upstream.
After thanking the young man who had returned to his post on the starboard side, she followed the sidewalk along the waterfront toward the Coast Guard station, which she had passed on many occasions but never had a reason to notice before. It was a white, nondescript one-story brick building with dark blue shutters and faded red metal roof that sat next to the harbor, nestled among a few hardy tees. It was secured by a plain wrought iron fence along the front and chain link fencing around the remaining sides that stood in sharp contrast with the decorative iron fence surrounding the stately legislative building next door. A sliding chain link gate closed off the entrance to a small parking area on the right side of the building.
Just before reaching the Coast Guard station, Olivia’s pocket vibrated again. She pulled out her phone without slowing her gait. Another text from Colton.
“Yes, Colton?” She spoke out loud to no one in particular. A tone of exasperation in her voice.
|| Olivia, can we meet somewhere? ||
Olivia bit her lip. She didn’t want to deal with him, but she had a nagging feeling he might have some information she could use. Whatever it was could wait.
Setting foot onto the USCG property, Olivia passed an official-looking sign out front that read UNITED STATES COAST GUARD, MARINE SAFETY DETACHMENT, ST THOMAS USVI. It gave her a notably different feeling from the police station. Slowing her step as she neared the wide metal gate, a small car approached from inside and the gate slowly slid to the right. After the car exited but before the gate closed again, Olivia slipped inside and darted toward the entrance.
Once inside the Coast Guard station, she welcomed the refreshing blast of cool air on her face. Her stomach tightened at the prospect that they might be able to help her. She approached a young, light-skinned man who sat erect behind a desk. Ensign Ryan, his nametag read.
“Oh!” Clearly she was an unexpected visitor, particularly one who had slipped in through the closing gate. “Afternoon, ma’am.”
Ma’am? Did she look like a ma’am? She didn’t feel like one. They appeared to be about the same age.
“Afternoon.”
“What can I do for you?” His blond hair was trimmed close to his head, and his eyes were a deep brown. Darker than any she had ever seen before. His
trim and fit body looked almost uncomfortable inside the crisp white shirt that had been pressed neatly with creases along the sides of the short sleeves. She imagined the pants had similar crisp creases plunging down the front of the legs.
Olivia hesitated. She didn’t have much information to give him, but she had to at least try. “I’m looking for my mother.”
He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, and an inquisitive look crept onto his face.
“What I mean is . . . I think there was a boating accident and my mother was involved.” She shifted her stance slightly as her shaky assertion hadn’t come out quite right.
The ensign furrowed his brow. “I see.”
Olivia introduced herself and continued to fill him in on the phone call she and her father had received, her discussions with the local police, and the missing persons report she had filed.
The ensign listened carefully and then creased his lips tightly. “Miss Benning, I’m not aware of any boating accident in the Virgin Islands within the last couple of weeks.”
Olivia tilted her head and fluttered her eyelashes in rapid succession. She’d had her fill of hearing that response. Her demeanor turned abruptly.
“Look!” Her tone was loud and emphatic. Two other guardsmen, who had been talking discreetly at the back of the room, glanced toward the sound of her voice. “I don’t care if you haven’t heard anything about it.” She was pleased she sounded firm and in control. “You need to help me find out what happened to my mother. It doesn’t matter that I don’t have any specific facts to give you. Clearly she is missing. The police have the report I filed and their jurisdiction is on the island. Yours is in the water around it. I expect the Coast Guard to investigate.” She glared without blinking.
“Ma’am, we need to be able to justify sending manpower—”
“Don’t you dare call it a wild goose chase!” She thrust her fist down onto the surface of his desk. The volume of her voice rose and her face grew redder with each word. “This is my mother we are talking about. Find out what happened. What else do you have going on?” She was being presumptuous but she didn’t care.
Remaining calm, Ensign Ryan rose slowly from his desk as though he had every intention of regaining control of the conversation. His serious expression remained unwavering as he maintained eye contact with her.
A more senior officer approached and introduced himself as Lieutenant Woods. His short hair was light blond and he looked to be closer to thirty. Standing much taller and broader than the desk jockey, he had obviously spent more time in the sun than the younger officer.
Olivia trusted he had overheard enough of the conversation to understand why she was there, and she wasn’t backing down. He seemed as though he was going to take her more seriously than his subordinate. She hoped he wasn’t just patronizing her.
“Miss Benning, I will personally look into this. I certainly can’t make any promises beyond that. I don’t know if I will find out anything, but I will try.”
Olivia wasn’t ready to ease up yet. “All right, good. How do I reach you?” she pushed further, holding him accountable.
The lieutenant reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a couple of business cards and handed them to her. “Here is my card. Use the second one to jot down your contact information.”
Olivia glanced toward the ensign who seemed to be able to read her mind. He lunged toward her and handed her the pen in his hand. She leaned on his desk to fill out the back of the business card and then handed it to the lieutenant. As he took it she looked deep into his eyes, looking for a flicker of hope he was earnest. She had to believe he was.
He asked her indulgence in filling out some paperwork to officially document her request. Silently she wished she had made a copy of the missing persons report to save herself the trouble but honored the lieutenant’s request on behalf of her mother.
Before long, she found herself back outside in the steamy tropical heat, asking herself if that stop had gotten her anywhere. It certainly hadn’t hurt. He had assured her he would be in touch. But Olivia guessed she would be the one to contact him first.
Time to return to Serenity Villa.
As Olivia eased the Jeep back down her mother’s driveway, she pressed her foot to the brake, anxious to steal a glance out to the bay. It never got old. She was going to miss that view. Parking in the usual spot, she retreated inside the quaint and colorful bungalow.
No sooner had she stepped inside than she heard a noise coming from the studio. Olivia froze. Another intruder? She listened. As the noise continued she crept toward the sound, eyes searching for movement within the room. Once she reached the doorway, it became a somewhat familiar sound. The fax machine. She stepped closer to it and cocked her head to read the message as it inched out of the machine.
Liv
I wish I knew if my previous message made it to you. I don’t know how else to reach you. I trust this phone line is secure. The last thing I would want to do is blow your cover.
Her cover! What was that supposed to mean? Eyes peeled, she watched as the page inched out of the machine and the note continued.
My source tells me they’re going to try again tomorrow night, possibly the next night, but they’ve moved. The location is in Bovoni. Down the road to the landfill. There’s an abandoned shack tucked away in a clearing on the left side off the road. Study your satellite images ahead of time to get the lay of the land. I would expect them to get started around 10:00 PM or so. You should be able to see lights once you get in there and get close.
Please be careful and stay out of sight. If you feel like you’re in danger, get out of there. I know you’re hell bent on your “mission” but these pictures are not worth your life. Please let me know you got this. I’ll be anxiously awaiting your call or text.
—CK
The paper settled into the output tray and Olivia stood there staring at the words on the page. Her body turned numb. What had her mother gotten herself mixed up in? A strange tingling sensation rippled through her body at the possibilities. She shivered to shake off a chill.
The first solid lead to find her mother, though. At least to find out what she was working on that may have cost her life.
“CK, could you give me a clue who you are?” She spoke aloud to the four walls in her mother’s studio.
Fatigue washed over her. Her eyes welled up in anguish. It had been a long day and she hadn’t eaten much.
Fighting the urge to have a glass a wine and head off to bed, she pulled together another simple dinner of plain pasta, this time with olive oil and dried herbs she had rummaged from the cupboard. As the pasta boiled, Olivia opened her last bottle of wine. The Chardonnay. Because she still wasn’t brave enough to open the refrigerator, it was at room temperature from sitting on the counter, so she tossed in an ice cube from the tray in the freezer. As she sipped the oaky, dry wine, sea breezes gently tossed the tree branches outside the kitchen window. Daylight was waning. And so was her energy level.
Olivia enjoyed her dinner out on the gallery as night fell on the Caribbean. Shortly afterward, she cleaned up the dishes and turned in, turning the latch on the deadbolt as she passed the front door. A tall white pillar candle on the simple wooden bedside table beckoned to be lit. Olivia rummaged through the drawer beneath it and found some matches. Lighting the flame filled a small void inside her. The flickering light spread a soft glow in the room. Olivia slipped into some comfortable shorts and a t-shirt before closing the mosquito netting around her and slipping between the sheets. A warm breeze from the bedroom window tugged gently at the netting. A good night’s sleep would help her face the unknown that awaited her the next day.
Olivia awoke with a start in the daylight to some sort of a tapping noise.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A tapping noise. A woodpecker? Her head was groggy from sleep. Did woodpeckers exist in the Caribbean? She rolled over and attempted to fall back asleep, yet a feeling of foreboding consumed her. With
eyes opened wide, she listened intently. What had she heard? Silence. Olivia felt compelled to take a look around. Pulling back the mosquito netting, she threw her legs over the side of the bed, slipping her feet into her well-worn, casual flip-flops with thin black leather straps.
Creeping silently across the floor, she shuffled out into the living area and stopped a few feet away from the upholstered chairs to listen again. Silence. Movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. Out in the yard a man peered into the driver’s side window of her mother’s car. Olivia studied him. He was a tall, well-built black man dressed in a light-pink collared polo shirt, light khaki shorts, and boat shoes. He wore aviator sunglasses. Not what she would have expected from an intruder, yet an uneasiness crept in that she couldn’t shake. Who was he? What did he want? Her thoughts returned to the gun under her mother’s mattress.
He walked all around the car, looking into the windows and then made his way back toward the front door. Olivia darted back away from the windows, finding refuge behind the kitchen counter. The man approached the windows along the front of the house, above the sofa. He cupped his hands on either side of his eyes and peered in. Olivia maintained her hiding place in the kitchen, peering out enough to get a glimpse of him. Holding her position until he turned and headed around the side of the house toward the gallery, she took advantage of the opportunity to run to her mother’s bedroom.
On her way into the room her gaze fell on the unlit candle on the bedside table and for a fleeting moment wondered if she had blown it out the night before. Perhaps she did . . . or the breeze from the window had taken care of it.
Kneeling quickly down next to the bed, she shoved her hand under the mattress. Her hand made contact with the cold, hard surface of her mother’s gun. She pulled it out and found it heavy and awkward in her hand. Pushing past these sensations, she vowed to confront the intruder.
The Empty Chair ~ Murder in the Caribbean Page 13
