The Empty Chair ~ Murder in the Caribbean

by Penny Goetjen

  “Pleased to meet you.” He extended his left hand since his right dangled lifelessly in the sling.

  Sarah spoke and the two clumsily shook hands.

  Olivia continued. “Carson is a friend of my mother’s.”

  Sarah nodded once in acknowledgment.

  The three stood awkwardly in the lobby of the hospital like teenagers at a school dance until Carson found his voice.

  “Is everything all right? Were you visiting someone upstairs?”

  “Yes, everything is fine.” She chose to ignore his second question. “How are you? Are you healing okay?”

  “Yeah, sure. I’m on the mend. It wasn’t too serious.”

  Olivia recalled that fateful day on her mother’s gallery. “It looked awful. You looked awful. God, there was blood everywhere.”

  Carson chuckled again. “Yeah, I’m sure it was pretty bad. I’m sorry you ended up in the middle of whatever is going on. These people seem pretty dangerous. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  Olivia was curious about his involvement. “Carson, what did you say you do . . . for a living?”

  “I run a water sports shop on the east end.” Appearing anxious to take his leave, he reached over and pushed the button for the elevator and then turned back toward her. The same elevator doors she and Sarah had just walked through opened up and he promptly stepped on.

  While holding the door open with his free hand, he leaned over and pressed a button for one of the floors with the hand hanging out of the sling. “See you ’round.”

  Olivia stepped closer to him as he let go of the door. Their eyes connected. As the elevator doors started to close, Olivia noticed a bulge in the shape of sunglasses in his shirt pocket monogramed with the name Caribbean Blue Security.

  Olivia shoved her hand between the doors just as they reached the middle. They sandwiched her hand momentarily but then rebounded to the sides again. With a puzzled expression, he looked to her for an explanation.

  “Carson, can I ask you something?” This time she held the door open. She was in control.

  “Of course.” He calmly held his expectant gaze, looking almost defiant.

  She stepped closer to him. “Were you the . . . did you communicate with my mother by fax?”

  He squinted his eyes and examined her face. “By fax?” He restated her question and paused for a moment. “No . . . we never communicated by fax.”

  Olivia looked long and hard into his hazel eyes, looking for a flicker or a hint he wasn’t being entirely truthful with her. Just as the silence grew uncomfortable, an elderly couple approached from behind Olivia and stepped onto the elevator. Reluctantly she loosened her grip on the door, and they both closed. She couldn’t help wonder what he was hiding, if anything.

  Sarah looked at Olivia and it was understood it was time to head out. They burst through the front doors on their way to the parking lot.

  Outside, Olivia scrunched up her face as she considered why Carson might be at the hospital. Her curiosity was piqued.

  Across the parking lot, a couple of men walked away with their backs to them. The taller one reminded her of Colton. The color of his hair. His body frame. The way he moved. She inhaled as she took a closer look, and deciding it wasn’t him, chided herself for letting her imagination wander.

  The morning sky was becoming brighter and there were more cars in the parking lot than when they had arrived. Quickly they found Sarah’s car and hopped in, exiting the parking lot and leaving the hospital behind.

  It was a quiet ride back to Red Hook. They chatted briefly about Olivia’s father’s condition, but the rest of the time was spent in reflection.

  Arriving at Sarah’s place, they pulled in next to Olivia’s Jeep. Slowly they trudged up the steps to her front door, and Sarah froze in her tracks. Nearly running into her from behind, Olivia stepped around Sarah to see what she was looking at.

  The front door was ajar.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  The frame next to the knob was in splinters. An odd-shaped hole took the place of the lock.

  As Sarah stepped backward, Olivia moved with her, down a few steps. Their eyes were fixed on the open door. They turned and looked at each other and then back again. Neither wanted to be the first to say anything. Finally Sarah put her concern into words.

  “Maybe we should call the police. Detective Benson.”

  Olivia turned and looked her in the eye. “Are you kidding? It will take them forever to get here. Besides, whoever broke in is long gone. Let’s go take a look.” She brushed past Sarah and ran back up the steps, but then offered, “Call the cops if you want. We’ll probably have it all figured out by the time they get here.”

  Moving slowly and looking somewhat reticent, Sarah followed behind Olivia and entered the front door. Her place was ransacked. Drawers emptied, lamps overturned, shelves cleared off onto the floor. It seemed as though nothing was left untouched. Neither spoke. Their footsteps were silent as they surveyed the damage. Olivia nearly burst with guilt.

  “Sarah, I am sorry.”

  Clearly struggling to take it all in, Sarah stood still, staring at the mess.

  Olivia turned and looked toward her friend. “Do you think they took anything?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized the question was premature.

  “I have no idea. It will take me a while to figure that out.”

  They split up and entered their respective bedrooms. Olivia was the first to yell out.

  “Oh shit!”

  “What’s wrong?” Sarah appeared at the bedroom door.

  Olivia flopped onto the bed and slammed her fist into the pillow. “My disc is gone! I left it on the bedside table figuring I wouldn’t be needing it at the hospital. Now they’ve taken it. Damn it!” She smacked her thigh in frustration.

  “What was on the disc? Who would have wanted it?”

  “Oh, Sarah, I’m not exactly sure.” She considered how to fill her in. “It seems as though my mother was trying to document some illegal activity and the slugs caught on to her. She was able to put together a CD she left behind at her house, but I didn’t have a chance to look at it yet.”

  “So how does this involve you?” Sarah’s eyes narrowed as she started to put the pieces together. “Does this have to do with the fire at your mother’s house?”

  Again Olivia hesitated, trying to determine the best way to explain to her new friend she had gone into the lions’ den on a whim, following in her mother’s footsteps. At the time it seemed perfectly logical, but as she explained it to Sarah, it came out sounding entirely absurd. Unquestionably foolish. Downright dangerous.

  “I tried to pick up where my mother left off, but it seems they have caught on to me, too.”

  “What? Olivia, are you serious—”

  Olivia’s eye grew wide and her mouth dropped. “Oh no!”

  “What?”

  “Somehow they knew to look here. Sarah, you’re in danger. Just by me staying here I have put you in great danger. I’m sorry. I need to get out of here. I can’t have you risking your life for me. We don’t even know who these people are or what they look like.”

  Sarah held up her hand like a crossing guard on a school morning, exhibiting remarkable calm. “I have a better idea. Before you leave, let’s switch cars.”

  Olivia examined her closely. She sounded serious.

  “I can’t do that,” she spoke firmly.

  “Of course you can. Think about it. If you’re driving my car, they will never suspect it’s you.”

  “But if you’re driving mine, they will think it’s me and you could get hurt.”

  “Don’t be silly. They’ll see who’s driving and will lose interest.”

  “Oh, Sarah, I don’t know. I don’t like it.”

  “Nonsense. That’s our plan. I have a couple showings on the north side this morning and then your car will just sit in the parking lot at the office for the afternoon. It will be fine. If nothing else, it will confuse them for a while.
”

  They exchanged keys and Olivia reluctantly took the Explorer, anxious to separate herself from Sarah and get her out of danger. Not much was going to stop these savages. Who knew how many people had already lost their lives in the name of their profits. They were making their point quite clear. She needed to put as much distance between herself and them as she could and find a safe spot to regroup. A serene neighboring island like St. John would do.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  It was still relatively early in the morning, especially for island time. Looking around at the crowd, Olivia noticed there weren’t many tourists to speak of. She shared the ferry ride with islanders who were commuting to St. John for work. It was an interesting array of people, all sitting patiently for the short trip to Cruz Bay. She found a seat at the stern with views of what she had left behind.

  The ride was fairly noisy from the sound of the engine but thankfully brief and the view of the ocean was spectacular. Olivia recalled one return trip on the St. John ferry several years earlier when she just made it onto the boat. She had no sooner stepped on board than the crew cast off. Scouring the crowded ferry for a place to sit, she caught the eye of several people as she searched the main deck. It was mostly men, which made her less than comfortable. Quickly figuring out the only available seats were down below in the bowels of the boat, she cautiously descended the steep, narrow metal steps and nervously surveyed the cramped quarters. Not much to see there. No windows. No way to look out. It wouldn’t have mattered if it was day or night. The view was the same. Four white walls and the deafening thunderous reverberation from the engine. The tight space was crammed with islanders, all men, who were returning home after work. It didn’t seem to make a difference to them where they were seated. It was a means to an end. Getting home after a hard day. She found a spot at the end of one bench seat after a couple guys appeared to take pity on her and make room.

  Usually Olivia enjoyed the passage between St. Thomas and St. John but on that trip, she couldn’t wait for it to be over. She fought off horrific images of what might happen if the boat had an unexpected emergency. Water gushing into the compartment she swore wasn’t meant for anything other than cargo. Certainly not people. Only one way out. Up the metal stairway she envisioned would be crowded with men scrambling to escape from certain death. She would be left behind to fight for her own life.

  Pushing away the terrifying worst-case scenario from the past, she refocused on the present. The breeze off the water and the slowing of the engine helped. The ferry pulled into Cruz Bay. Two nimble crew members jumped onto the dock as it approached and tied up the boat with large ropes. Once it was secure, the passengers were given the “all ashore” clearance.

  Olivia held back and waited for the crowd to disembark. She was certainly in no hurry. Having no particular place to go, she had plenty of time to get there.

  She lazily got up and shuffled along behind the last few passengers heading off the boat. There was a long line in front of her. Olivia blinked in surprise as the profile of a man passing along the outside of the boat caught her attention. Light brown hair with blond highlights. Pulled back into a ponytail. It looked like Colton. Her heart raced. Could it be him? Oh, why had she fallen behind? She needed to catch up, see if it was actually him. God, she hoped so. An excited twinge rippled through her stomach and her heart beat faster.

  “Damn!” she yelled at no one in particular, regretting letting so many people go in front of her.

  As her situation had changed, she rudely pushed past those passengers she had politely let pass moments earlier, desperate to catch up to the man. She had to find out if it was Colton and prayed it was.

  Spotting him nearing the end of the dock, she could see he was dressed in a light blue tee and long board shorts. He appeared to have sneakers on his feet, which didn’t seem to fit Colton’s style. He was walking next to an older man with predominantly gray hair blended with some black and white. Jostling and bumping past elbows, pushing her way through the crowd, moving like Sunday parishioners leaving a church service, she tried to keep an eye on the man of interest. As soon as she made it past two or three people, she was pushed back by just as many. At times it felt like she was standing still. It was a losing battle. She lost sight of him. Still keeping an eye out, she scanned the end of the dock where taxis waited to whisk arriving passengers to far flung places on the island.

  Olivia kept pushing, yet her feet moved much more slowly through the crowd than she would have liked. Finally she reached the end of the dock, and stopping dead in her tracks, searched the immediate area. Nothing. No dirty blond ponytail in sight. She couldn’t believe her luck. Turning around, she looked back toward the ferry and spied the guy with the light blue tee hovering near his acquaintance who was bent over tying his shoe. He was looking straight at her.

  Her heart skipped a beat as she was caught in a distant sea of blue, but she was sailing on the wrong sea. It wasn’t him. The guy’s face brightened as he seemed intrigued to connect with her, but that was as far as she was going to let it go.

  Abruptly turning, she shook off her disappointment and started the trek over to the park, looking forward to taking a walk on the trail to one of the magnificent beaches along it. On her way, she punched in Colton’s number again in the hopes she could reach him, but her call skipped to voicemail. She didn’t wait to hear his outgoing message.

  As she passed through town toward the park visitors’ center, she encountered several taxi drivers who wanted to give her a ride. Trunk Bay? Cinnamon Bay? Annaberg Ruins? They would take her! She politely declined, “No, thank you.” Where she was going, she could walk.

  Olivia didn’t need to get anywhere fast. She just needed to get away . . . away from the danger on St. Thomas where she had left her father under the watchful eye of the local police. She had to count on them to protect him.

  Somehow just setting foot on St. John made her feel safer. There was something about being on the island. It had a much different vibe from St. Thomas. Much more low-key. Peaceful, serene, and predominantly undeveloped. At night, it took on a stillness unlike anything she had ever experienced, particularly in the city.

  Olivia hiked up the steep hill behind the visitors’ center to gain access to Lind Point Trail that wound its way along the shore and provided beautiful views of Cruz Bay. She stopped long enough to glance across to where the ferry had docked earlier. It was now heading back for its return trip to St. Thomas.

  Traversing Lind Point Trail posed an element of peril. Exposed roots crisscrossed the dirt path and loose rocks lay in wait to move under unsteady feet. Along the way she admired huge aloe plants growing naturally in the arid environment. Picturing the scrawny aloe plant she was trying to keep alive on a windowsill back in Boston, she chortled out loud. It didn’t look like it belonged to the same plant family as its Caribbean cousins.

  The trail meandered through the woods, narrowing at times, twisting and turning and eventually descending through a tight section before spilling out onto the breathtaking beach at Salomon Bay. At times it became necessary to grab onto overhanging branches to keep from slipping or descending too quickly. Olivia reminded herself to be patient and not rush in her quest to reach the bay. Once her feet touched the soft, bright white sand, she stopped in her tracks. No one ever seemed to be on the beautiful beach when she was there. No matter what time of year she came, she had it to herself undoubtedly because it was accessible only by boat or hiking the Lind Point Trail. Even though Salomon Bay was the first stop on the trail, Olivia was happy to make it her last stop. She figured she couldn’t get much better than a private beach.

  Walking over to the water’s edge, Olivia slipped off her sandals and tossed them behind her. Slowly she entered the tepid turquoise water, breathing in deeply as the bottom of her feet felt the wet sand ooze up around her toes. The water remained clear no matter how far she advanced into it. Scanning her surroundings, she was relieved she was completely detached from civili
zation. Only a catamaran passed lazily across in front of her, close enough to tell there were a dozen or so people on board but far enough away she couldn’t make out their chatter.

  Voices in the woods startled her. Turning toward the sound, she listened intently and searched for movement. At first it was hard to tell the gender of the voices. Her sense of potential danger heightened. She couldn’t make out how many people there were, but they seemed to be heading down the trail toward the beach. Getting closer. Her heart beat faster, but she tried to convince herself they were harmless. If they meant her harm, they wouldn’t announce their arrival by talking on the way there. By the time a young couple emerged from the trail, she was considering her options to run.

  Lost in their conversation, they didn’t notice her at first, but then stopped in their tracks when they did. Obviously disappointed to find someone else on the beach, they exchanged hellos and continued across the sand toward the path back to the trail.

  Olivia let out a cleansing breath, relieved she wasn’t in danger after all. Settling onto the sand with her toes in the water, she let her eyes wander across the turquoise bay, back toward St. Thomas. The blazing sun nearing its apex in the sky baked her skin while the gentle breeze off the water caressed it. Taking in the beauty of her surroundings, she attempted to sort through her thoughts, replaying the events as they had transpired since the call in Boston.

  Although she set out determined in her quest to find answers, the reality of her pursuit had become too overwhelming. Worse, she had put herself and Sarah in grave danger. Perhaps her father, too. And Colton? She wondered who he really was and what his involvement was. And who was she to think she could take on these people? Whoever they were. She’d been foolish. Selfish in her attempt to find her mother. But, as she recalled, she hadn’t received a lot of help when she first arrived. She had no other option but to do it herself—of course now she was in way over her head. The disc she insisted on looking at first, before she handed it over to the police, may have held vital information the detective could have used to stop these horrible people . . . perhaps find her mother. Of course, now it was in their hands. Probably destroyed. She had nothing. Not even any photos that could be used as evidence, much less a camera.