Electricity on the island, like most Caribbean islands, could be sporadic and unpredictable at times, not just during storms. If the building had a generator, which she surmised it did, it would kick on within a couple minutes. Olivia saw this as her opportunity to make her exit. She would never be able to find her mother from where she was and certainly not from the local jail cell either.
She yanked the IV out of the back of her left hand, wincing for a moment, then pulled the curtain closed to envelope the bed. Looking for her personal effects, she spied a white plastic bag tucked into the shelf of her bedside table that appeared to have something soft inside. She grabbed it and peered into the top. To her horror, the t-shirt and shorts she’d had on earlier were soaked with blood. The flip-flops she had slipped on before heading outside to shoot her mother’s friend were not spared either. Unfortunately she had no choice but to put it all back on and try to stay out of sight so as not to arouse suspicions.
Dressing quickly, she noticed her hand was bleeding where the IV needle had been. Pressing her right hand firmly onto the back of her left hand, she slipped out from behind the closed curtain and dashed toward the exit the detective had taken. There were voices behind her, but it sounded like they were more concerned with getting the lights back on than they were with keeping an eye on her.
Olivia pushed on the horizontal metal handle of the exit door with her right hip, slipped quickly through the small opening, and softly closed the door behind her. She found herself at the top of a set of stairs. The stairwell had an industrial feel to it. There were no steps leading upward so she was on the top floor of however many floors there were in the building. She bolted down the steps, going as fast as her two feet could carry her, one hand still pressing against the insertion location of the IV. Four stories later, she was at the bottom of the stairs, pushing open another door marked exit and stepping out onto a parking lot.
Hot, humid air hit her in the face, but the sun had already set. There was no bright sunlight to make her squint. Olivia was grateful she would soon have the cover of darkness in her favor. She had made her escape but needed to get away from the building as quickly as possible before they discovered she was missing. While she fought off dizziness filling her head, pain on the left side of her body exploded, and her knees threatened to buckle. She tried hard to push through and ignore it. Scanning the area quickly, she searched for something familiar. Panic rose inside her and she endeavored to vanquish it. A road on the far end of the lot became her target and she ran straight toward it.
Once on the sidewalk, she stopped just long enough to glance up and down the street, trying to get her bearings. Looking back at the front of the light pink building illuminated by lights along the ground, Olivia concluded it was a hospital but she hadn’t seen it before. Straining to place its general location on the island, she wondered if there was more than one. The answer to that question didn’t matter. She just needed to figure out where this one was located and whether or not she was going to be able to walk back to her mother’s house.
A voice in Olivia’s head urged her to get moving, something would look familiar. The street in front of the hospital led to a busier street. There were no street signs to give her a clue as to what either street was called. The waning light from the sun setting on her right would make it the western sky. Turning in that direction, she walked on the right side of the road facing oncoming traffic, feeling fairly confident she was walking west and taking a gamble her mother’s house was even farther west.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Beads of perspiration glistened on Olivia’s forehead. Even though the afternoon sun was gone, the hot evening air was thick with humidity. Her feet plodded along on the still warm pavement. They were feeling heavier with each step, sounding like sandpaper on a piece of lumber as they landed and slid across the loose grit and sand on the steamy tar. Her breathing became labored, each breath more deliberate.
Although she was seeing a different perspective on foot than in a car, Olivia had to believe she was moving in the right direction toward her mother’s bungalow. It was more like slow motion but with every detail accentuated. A building here, a sign there looked familiar to her. As the road began to incline, she believed she had found the right way to head up the mountain. Her focus was on keeping her feet moving. There was a very real possibility they might come after her. After all, she was a wanted woman. Surely an APB, or whatever it was called on the island, had been issued for her. Unfortunately there were no alternate routes she could take to stay off the main road. All the side streets would take her in the wrong direction, away from the top of the mountain. She would just have to hustle and make her way up quickly. Retrieving the Jeep for transportation was essential for her to resume her search and have a chance of staying under the radar.
Pain suddenly shot from her shoulder down her left arm and into her chest. She groaned and her feet came to an abrupt halt as she glanced over to the bandage peeking out through the gaping hole in her shirt. What had happened . . . between her and the police? Keenly aware of the urgency to keep moving, she couldn’t spare the time to acknowledge the pain. Taking a second glance, she could tell she was bleeding through the layers of gauze. A deep red wet stain glistened on her t-shirt. Olivia was struck by its irregular shape. She stared at it for a moment to see if she could tell if it was getting larger but then chided herself silently for losing focus. Time to push forward. She had to get to the top of the mountain.
She kept climbing, willing her body to move, ignoring the throbbing pain from her left shoulder. Cars approached, heading down the mountain, speeding past her, often too close for comfort, causing her to jump out of the way just in time to avoid being struck. At one point she ran into a mailbox on the edge of the street and the pain shot up her right arm. She moaned and grabbed her arm with her left hand, only to set off shooting pain in her injured shoulder. She paused to catch her breath. Her parched mouth ached for something to drink. It would have to wait. She pushed on. One foot in front of the other.
A siren in the distance stirred panic within her. She couldn’t be seen, she couldn’t afford to be caught. Quickly glancing around, she searched for someplace to hide in case the police were coming her way. As the sound of the siren got louder, Olivia lunged behind a large bush on the front lawn of someone’s house. Crouching down low to avoid detection, she said a little prayer they would sail right on past. The siren got increasingly louder as it raced up the hill. As Olivia remained motionless, she hoped she was well hidden behind her camouflage. She held her breath and closed her eyes. Just as the wailing sound reached near where she crouched, her curiosity got the best of her and she chanced a look.
To her relief, it was an ambulance. Not a squad car. As Olivia stood up from behind the bush, a rush of lightheadedness flooded over her. Her legs wobbled. She reached out to steady herself and pulled large leaves from the bush she had been hiding behind. Flailing to find a sturdier support, her hands latched onto a thicker branch. Finally her legs felt stronger and her dizziness dissipated. Returning to the hard surface of the main road, she resumed her trek up the mountain.
About two-thirds of the way up, she turned to look out over the harbor. There were no cruise ships docked at Havensight. If there had been any during the day, they were long gone now. The harbor was quiet. The lights downtown and across the water on Estate Bakkero were spectacular. Darkness had completely enrobed the island. It took on a whole different feel at night. Olivia loved it either way, day or night. One wasn’t better, they were just different.
Olivia smiled and reminisced about how her mother had taught her the concept of being different. She used to tell little Ollie that just because people were different, whether they had different skin color or they were different in their beliefs or perhaps their size or shape, it didn’t matter. One wasn’t better than the other. They were simply different. End of discussion. End of story. There was nothing more to it.
Olivia loved her mother and m
any others did too. Liv Benning was a beautiful person. And that beauty was evident in her art. She easily identified the beauty around her and was able to capture it in her photography.
A familiar expression came to mind Olivia could easily paraphrase to describe her mother perfectly:
She had a heart full of love and forgiveness, eyes that looked for the good in people, and a soul that never lost faith.
A distant siren pulled Olivia back to reality and, after taking one more glance out to the harbor, she resumed her hike up the mountain.
After dodging a few more cars heading in her direction, Olivia finally reached the tricky intersection. Assuring herself she didn’t have much farther to go, she made her way around the bend and headed down Skyline Drive. It was extremely dark and walking on the side of the road was even more treacherous than in daylight.
Olivia fought to stay focused. When her head started to spin, she halted her feet for a moment. Wincing at the pain in her shoulder as it pulsated throughout her body, she tried to keep her sights on getting back to her mother’s house. It wasn’t much farther. She pressed on.
Allowing her thoughts to drift away, she attempted to divert herself from the drudgery of walking and the discomfort in her shoulder. Visions of the calm, serene, deserted beaches on St. John filled her head. Salomon Bay and Caneel Bay were two of her favorites. Trunk Bay was also beautiful but usually more crowded, particularly during the high season. If only she could spend some time on St. John or anywhere on the islands with her mother again. She held onto a fading hope she would still be able to do that.
Finally she arrived at the top of the familiar driveway. Needing to rest for a moment, she dropped to her knees by the mailbox and the rest of her body followed along, hitting the ground with no gracefulness to speak of. Succumbing to her pain and exhaustion, she rolled over onto her side.
Anxious to retrieve her mother’s car, she acknowledged she still had to trek down the hill to grab it. The Jeep meant a great deal to her. Not only independence but also the way to find her mother . . . or at least what had happened to her. For the moment she was going to try to forget what she had done to her mother’s friend, push the horrific act aside.
Although her shoulder was throbbing, she gathered the strength to pull herself up and make her way down the steep driveway, willing her feet to go slowly. It took patience, but she worked hard to keep them from going too fast in her haste. Reaching the bottom and approaching the colorful little bungalow, she tried to latch onto positive memories but they were too hard to retrieve at the moment.
A quick trip into the house enabled her to change out of the blood-soaked clothes. She also splashed water on her face and grabbed her wallet, phone, car key, and camera. Taking the time to apply a fresh bandage on her shoulder, she took a moment to examine her wound in the mirror. Curious at the sight of stitches, she wondered why they were necessary. A dull pain radiated down her arm.
The clock on the stove read 9:30. It had taken longer than she realized to hike up the mountain from the hospital. Not that it mattered. She had to switch gears and head back out. It was time to look for the location the elusive CK had indicated her mother should go check out. Unsure what she was looking for, Olivia had to believe somehow she would know it when she found it. The satellite images CK had mentioned in his fax didn’t turn up when she and Sarah tidied up the mess after the house was ransacked. She was going to have to wing it.
There was a rumble in her abdomen, which she didn’t have time to address, but she decided not to ignore it completely. After grabbing a quick bowl of cereal and a handful of ibuprofen, she left the solace of Serenity Villa behind her. Time to head toward the landfill.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Olivia pointed the Jeep down the mountain toward Charlotte Amalie with the windows rolled partway down and the salty sea air blowing in. Her route was going to bring her to the traffic light in front of the police station. The only way to avoid it was to take the road that ran along the north side of the island out to the east end and double back, adding at least a half an hour to the trip, time she didn’t have. She would take her chances. As luck would have it, the light was red when she arrived. Waiting for the light to change, she felt excruciatingly uncomfortable sitting still. Imagining wanted posters with her photo on them next to the front door of the station, she prayed no one would walk by who could identify her. Movement to her left caused her body to stiffen, and she locked her eyes forward. Finally the light changed to green, and she gradually pressed the gas and calmly turned the corner onto Route 30 heading east.
At the top of the hill in Bakkero Estate, she turned left to stay on 30. She wound her way around tight corners, up and down hills, just as she had done on the way to the marina and Izzies a couple nights earlier, searching for Landfill Road as she drove. Of course there were no street markings of any kind that would help her. Pulling off the road to see if she could find a road map in the glove compartment, her hand only got as far as grabbing the handle. Then she realized she had already gone through it looking for the car key and there was no map in it at the time.
Fighting off feelings of discouragement, Olivia got back onto the pavement and drove more slowly, looking for the entrance. She had to believe she would see something that would give her a clue where to turn. She pressed on, staying to the left of the yellow line and glancing to the right, searching for Landfill Road. None of the side streets were well lit. Doubts that she would find it crept in. Then something caught her eye, and she slowed down to look more closely. It was a small wooden sign that appeared to read “Landfill.” The lettering was worn, but she could just make out enough letters.
Olivia slowly turned the Jeep onto the hard-packed dirt and plowed into the darkness with trepidation, not sure what she would find. Fighting off the panic rising inside, she could only imagine what she might be driving into. The headlights carved a narrow path down the desolate stretch of road. There were no houses along the way to provide lights to guide her and the moon was not very bright. A shiver ran through her body, but she did her best to channel her mother’s strength and kept going.
The road continued straight for a short while, jogged to the left, and then curved back to the original line. Creeping slowing along, Olivia kept her eyes in front of her but also glanced left and right to see if she could see anything out of the ordinary. Beyond the swath of her headlights and along the sides of the road, it was pitch black. She was losing faith she would be able to find anything. Yet the urgency to discover what her mother had been sent to photograph kept her moving forward.
Rolling down the windows the rest of the way, Olivia took a moment to listen to her surroundings, not detecting anything but the familiar “ko-kee” chirping sound of the Coqui tree frogs and a couple of dogs barking in the distance. Part of her was relieved at that observation. The rest pushed her to keep going. As she pressed the gas and moved farther into the black void, darkness filled in the space behind her. She tried not to focus on that part. Something lay ahead of her she had to find.
A light in the distance. Taking in a shallow breath, she touched the brake gently to stop her momentum and stared straight ahead. What could it mean? Just a night light of sorts to ward off potential break-ins? Or was it a light within a building someone was occupying? . . . Only one way to find out. She eased the Jeep farther down the road, crawling slowly toward the light. Finally she felt close enough and pulled the Jeep to the side, shut off the lights, and cut the engine. Grabbing the camera from the passenger seat, she scrambled out of the car, gently pressing the door closed until the interior light snuffed out but without closing it all the way. She slipped the wide leather strap around the back of her neck and set off down the deserted dirt road, her eyes adjusting to the darkness.
As she got closer she could see the light was shining on part of an outdoor area, next to a small building. A weathered shack of some sort. Rectangular in shape with dirty white sides and a dark roof. About the size of the container on
a tractor trailer. She kept walking to get closer but got off the road to keep herself protected among greenery. With one hand on the camera, she pushed through the underbrush. Olivia couldn’t see anyone around the building, but she kept up her guard just in case. Creeping slowly closer, she peered through the foliage and could see the windows on the building were covered. Was it to keep someone from looking in or to prevent someone on the inside from looking out? Outside, rudimentary benches loosely formed a large square in the clearing next to the building. The space looked ominous in its emptiness, as if something terrible transpired there and it was to be kept a secret.
This had to be the place her mother was supposed to see. Sensing she should start photographing, Olivia pulled her camera to her face. The clicking sounded loud in her ears as if the tree frogs would stop their chirping and listen to her instead.
Voices from behind. Gasping, she couldn’t tell how many there were, but they were between her and the way back to her car. The voices all sounded male. Scanning the area quickly in the limited light, she ventured farther away from the road, into the bushes to avoid being seen, moving slowly so as not to make any noise. Once she settled in a spot where she felt safer, she turned to catch a glimpse of who was paying a visit.
The darkness prevented her from seeing faces, but she heard snippets of their conversation as they passed by.
The Empty Chair ~ Murder in the Caribbean Page 15
