The Butterfly Farm

by Diane Noble

  Jean leaned toward me, his hand over his mouth, shielding his words. “I met with the captain and first officer about Hartsfield. Because he hasn’t been apprehended, and because of the uncertainties of the Easton investigation, they plan to confine the passengers to the ship for the next several hours.” He shrugged. “With the storm on its way, I doubt that he’d pull up anchor anyway.”

  “Have you seen the official charges against Adam Hartsfield?”

  He shot me a strange look. “Do you doubt that they’ve been made?”

  I didn’t answer, but yes, I was beginning to have some questions beyond what I’d been told. I wanted facts, not hearsay. I’d been told too much by too many. Some facts jelled, others didn’t, and my head was beginning to spin.

  Plus, something about Adam’s story had grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. But I decided to wait for a time other than during a public meeting to tell Jean he was looking for the wrong man. Jean Baptiste didn’t strike me as someone who liked to be told he was wrong.

  “What about the passport photos of Kate and Carly?” I asked.

  He leaned toward me again. “I’m meeting with the Shepparton faculty and dean right after this. I’ll ask them to release the photos to the police.” He paused. “I’ll do my best to make this happen. And fast.”

  “Thank you.” And I meant it.

  Captain Richter walked to the podium and leaned toward the microphone.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for so promptly gathering here with us tonight. We are sorry for the inconvenience, but I have an important announcement to make.”

  To his credit, he sounded perfectly sober.

  “As you most likely heard, we are being forced to change our itinerary. Because an alleged crime was committed onboard, we are not being allowed—by Costa Rican authorities—to leave harbor until the investigation is completed.

  “This allegation is being disputed by myself and the Sun Spirit’s parent company. We were in international waters at the time in question, so the jurisdiction isn’t clear. It is our opinion that Nassau, headquarters of Global Sea Adventures, should make these decisions affecting our itinerary.

  “It is extremely important that we cooperate with the Costa Rican authorities, however, until this is straightened out. As it appears now, the authorities, both local and international—Interpol—will be boarding tomorrow morning at 0800 hours. They want to ask some questions, snoop around a bit, then, we hope, we’ll be free to go.”

  Go?

  I sprang to my feet. “Sir, if I may—”

  He looked upset but waved for me to proceed.

  “Two young women are missing. We know for certain that Kate Rivers disappeared here in Playa Negra, and I have proof that Carly Lowe was brought here as well, perhaps against her will.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew I had tipped my hand. The room fell utterly silent. I felt Jean’s hard gaze boring in on me from where he sat.

  I forged ahead. “How can you—their classmates, school officials, captain and crew, any of you—think about pulling up anchor and floating away, la-di-dah, as if nothing has happened?”

  “I beg to differ, ma’am,” Richter said. “As far as we know, the two young women left of their own volition, something college students are prone to do, believe me. One even left a note, according to my sources, telling us not to worry. You are jumping to unfair conclusions. But even so, I assure you, the authorities here in Playa Negra—and truly, in all of Costa Rica—are investigating. They’ll find these young women—if they indeed want to be found.”

  I stared at him, speechless. He had been sympathetic just a half hour ago when I phoned Tangi from the bridge. What had happened to change his mind?

  “Please, ma’am, if you don’t mind being seated. Save your questions for our Q and A time at the end of our session. Now, please, all of you …”

  I felt a hundred pairs of eyes on me. I sat down.

  I barely listened to the rest of Richter’s spiel. Instead I let my mind race ahead. I needed one thing: to chase down Adam for some answers.

  My work in Playa Negra wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot.

  “You mentioned proof that Carly Lowe was brought to Playa Negra,” Jean said when the meeting was over. “Are you sure?”

  I wanted to keep the details private, at least for now.

  “Of course, I can’t be certain,” I said. “But I thought I spotted something of hers in town. A bracelet.” I laughed lightly and shrugged. “Of course it could have belonged to a dozen different girls. Nothing special about it.”

  I had the strange sensation that his gaze was boring through me. It worried me that he might have a lie meter of his own. I laughed again and fluttered my fingers, something I’ve never been good at.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I said, “I want a word with Dean Williams before your meeting.”

  “Of course,” he said, then hesitated before quietly adding, “You know, Harriet, I’m with you in this. I told you how I lost my daughter. I understand firsthand what these parents must be feeling. If you find out anything, anything at all, please come to me. Don’t forget, I want to help.”

  “Thank you, Jean. I promise I will.”

  Dean Williams stood with a group of students near the podium. They turned as I came closer.

  “Dean,” I said, “may I have a moment of your time?”

  He glanced at his watch. “I have a meeting right now.”

  “I assure you it won’t take longer than thirty seconds.”

  He stepped away from the students.

  “Do you know if Richter has captained any other student cruises?”

  “For Shepparton, you mean?” He stroked his beard.

  I nodded.

  “I couldn’t tell you. This is my first time to head up the program.” His expression told me it would probably be his last.

  “Who would I talk to about which students are chosen to participate? How they’re picked, the criteria, that sort of thing. And is it possible to get a list of previous itineraries and students?”

  “Mrs. MacIver, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “May I ask what your interest would be? Why you would require such information?”

  “I’m a travel writer.”

  He frowned. “I can’t imagine what that information could have to do with rating the Sun Spirit and her accommodations and activities.”

  “Background,” I said vaguely and smiled at him.

  He brightened. “The person you need to talk to is Zoë Shire. You’ve been on all of the cruises, haven’t you, Zoë?” She was standing at his elbow, file folders clutched to her chest. She gave me a half smile when I acknowledged her.

  “Zoë, you didn’t tell me you had anything to do with accepting students into the program,” I said when Williams had moved away.

  She held up a hand. “Oh, I don’t! Not with accepting them. I just process the paperwork, that’s all. But I can get student lists and previous itineraries for you.” She stared at me from behind her thick glasses. I couldn’t read the expression in her eyes.

  We walked outside and stood on the deck. The air was heavy with the coming storm. We strolled along the deck for several yards, then stopped by the railing out of earshot of the other passengers.

  “I need to ask you some questions,” I said once we were alone. “And they’re confidential. It’s very important that they not be repeated.”

  “I understand. I work in an area at school that’s highly confidential. Student grades, SAT scores, health records, that sort of thing. Administrators trust me. I’ve never given them reason not to.”

  “I won’t ask you to divulge anything you’ve been asked to keep confidential.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m trying to find a pattern of behavior—something or someone—that is linked to the disappearances of Shepparton students.”

  She looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

  “You do know about the o
thers who have disappeared—I mean besides Kate and Carly.” When she didn’t answer, I went on. “Holly Hartsfield was the first, I believe. Spring break, her sophomore year.” I watched for a reaction, but the light reflected off her glasses, and again I couldn’t see her eyes. “Did you know Holly?”

  For a moment she didn’t answer, then she said, “Everyone knew Holly. She was cute, pretty, popular.” Almost the same words Adam used when he described all the young women who had disappeared. “What wasn’t to like?”

  “And they were all on spring break when they disappeared?”

  She nodded. “I don’t remember for sure, but I think Holly was on a megaship. One of the biggies. Empress Catalonia, I think it was called. Five star. Not anything like this rusty ship.”

  “This bucket of bolts?” I patted the railing affectionately, and Zoë laughed. “You don’t see a connection with any of the students? Or maybe with Captain Richter? He wouldn’t have captained the megaship, would he?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  I laughed. “I guess I didn’t need to ask. How about Holly’s friends? Are any of them with us on this cruise?”

  “She was part of the “in” crowd, just like the girls who were with us. But her friends? The only ones I remember are Carly and Kate. But Holly disappeared so long ago, I can’t imagine there’s a connection.”

  We started walking again. The stars were out in full force, their pinpoints of light glinting off the indigo water. A brisk breeze kicked up and lifted the hair from Zoë’s face. She closed her eyes, facing into the wind, chin elevated and a hint of a smile touching her lips. She looked pretty. I wondered if she had ever wanted to put aside the Munster-kid demeanor and kick up her heels a bit, try contact lenses, cut and shape her hair, stand up straight without slouching, put on a frilly sundress in place of her tattered jeans. Here I was, playing the mother role again. Seemed I couldn’t help it.

  “You’ve never told me about your parents,” I said.

  “I’ve got a mom and a grandpa. Mom ran off when I was little. I don’t think she knew who my dad was. She pops in and out of my life from time to time, criticizes how I look, always talks about sending me someplace for a makeover. Once threatened to put my name in for Extreme Makeover, but she’s usually more interested in her latest boyfriend than me. Whatever. I’m used to it, though. And Gramps? He’s my hero.” She gave me another of her rare smiles. “He’s sick, very sick, probably just hanging on till I graduate. It’s always been his dream.”

  “He’s a pretty good guy, then.”

  “The best. He’s why I want to go into medicine.” She tilted her head and squinted at me. “Hey, why all the questions?”

  “We’ve talked about Carly, about school, about my faux pas in the rain forest, but I’ve never really asked about you.”

  She grinned, showing even, perfectly formed, perfectly aligned white teeth. Gramps had spent a bundle on orthodontia. And behind those thick glasses, that feigned indifference, I saw a young woman who would someday be beautiful. Maybe not in a classical sense, but there was something swanlike about her that said, “Just give me time, world.”

  “Faux pas in the forest?”

  “I lit into poor Price the Third like there was no tomorrow. But I had no way of knowing you didn’t mind his attention—even though he was about to bump you right off the bridge.”

  She actually laughed. “Price the Third?”

  I glanced around like a spy and murmured, “My name for him. But remember, that’s confidential.”

  She struck a Girl Scout pose with a three-finger salute and said, “I promise.”

  I left Zoë on the deck, still smiling, and headed to my stateroom. I kept an eye out for Gus, not liking how my heart twisted each time I thought about him. Best-case scenario had him onboard somewhere, frightened and hungry, lost. Worst-case, I refused to consider.

  As I walked I again went over the facts as I knew them, trying to figure out what I had overlooked. Harry Easton came to mind, his image bugging me to dig deeper. He was going to the spa resort because he suspected something. Adam was staying nearby because of his suspicions.

  I frowned as another name seemed to materialize from the crevices of my brain. Lorenzo Nolan. U.S. citizen—though he spent much of his time in Costa Rica—and wealthy owner of La Vida Pura.

  Or not so wealthy? I dug deeper into the crevices, home of the dust bunnies of the brain, those details I picked up from magazines I read in the beauty parlor while waiting for my roots to lighten. All I could remember was that some of Nolan’s casinos had gone bankrupt. A few in California, one in Jersey City. That didn’t mean his empire was about to crumble, but could it mean he was out to make up for his losses here? Offshore usually indicated illegal. As in people trafficking. Drugs. Those were the usual suspects.

  My head was rebelling from lack of sleep, my stomach queasy from too little food and worry over Carly and Kate. And with each step closer to my stateroom I missed Gus more. That hollow, aching place in my heart threatened to turn me to mush. I blinked rapidly, determined not to cry. Then I pictured Gus—the way he had of purring and eating at the same time, sensitive stomach pellets flying; how he preferred drinking from the bathroom faucet instead of his dish; how he stared at me without blinking as if he knew all of the secret thoughts of my heart—and my eyes filled anyway.

  I rounded the corner of my deck. Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, they headed into a nosedive. As I rounded the corner on my deck, I saw Max and Price standing halfway down the railing.

  “Yo, Ms. M.,” Max said once I was in earshot. “We have something to ask you.”

  I just bet they did. “And that would be?”

  “What you said in there, in the meeting,” Price said. “Other people looked at you like you’d gone over the bend, but we believe you.”

  “Round the bend,” Max corrected.

  I was tired, still annoyed with them, and if I thought about it too hard, I just might light into them again, despite my earlier promises to myself. “Guys, can we talk about this tomorrow?”

  “Sure, whatever,” Price said, turning to leave.

  “Carly and Katie were—are—my friends,” Max said. “I’m offering my services to help you find them.”

  That wasn’t exactly like getting an offer from Saint Francis of Assisi, but I smiled my thanks. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” I promised.

  They started down the corridor, and I reached for my door key.

  Then it hit me. What was I turning down? “Hey, guys,” I called after them. “You know how to paddle those kayaks?”

  They were beside me in an instant.

  “What do ya have in mind?” Price asked, his face bright.

  I told them.

  “Cool,” Max said.

  Lying was bad enough. Stealing was something else entirely. Contributing to the delinquency of minors was even worse. It didn’t matter that I considered them half hoodlums already, I was feeling guilty. I looked up at the boys with a frown.

  “Kayaking this time of night?” Max’s grin stretched from earlobe to earlobe.

  “Steal a kayak?” The hoodlum half of Price’s personality looked ready to boogie.

  “Two,” I said. “And one of them needs to be a two seater. One of you can ride with me. The other one’s for whoever gets the short straw.”

  They exchanged a worried look.

  Some young people seem to make a point of looking bored. It’s cool, I suppose, to be bored, unimpressed, with whatever life throws your direction. I had begun to suspect their faces were permanently frozen in a sunken-cheeked (the girls) or slack-jawed (the boys) boredom.

  But Max and Price proved my theory wrong. They looked as if I’d just given them a reprieve from a life sentence of boredom. They were animated, gave each other one of those complicated handshakes followed by a couple of knuckle bumps, then just stood there grinning and talking about how and when they’d pull off their escape from the ship.

  “Whoa,
guys,” I said, shushing them. “Keep it down. I don’t want anyone else to know what we’re planning.” I opened my door and motioned them inside.

  They sprawled on the sofa. As I took a seat opposite them, I couldn’t help looking over at Gus’s feeders, hoping that he had miraculously appeared while I was out. He hadn’t. The boys followed my glance and, to their credit, looked sympathetic.

  “Hey, Ms. M.,” Max said, “we didn’t take him. Honest.”

  I didn’t want to get into it again, so I shook my head and held up my hand. “Back to business. I need to get to Playa Negra, the sooner the better.”

  They both started talking at once, and I did the slice across my neck thing. “We need a plan. First of all, we’ve got to get off the ship and into the kayaks with no one spotting us.”

  “Piece of cake,” Max said. “Leave that part to me.”

  “There’s the navigation to port—finding our way toward shore.”

  “No prob,” Max said.

  “Then there’s the matter of transportation from port to the spa.”

  “Hitchhike?” Max suggested.

  Price sneered. “In the middle of the night, dude?”

  Max shrugged. “Steal a car?”

  I shook my head. “Not an option.”

  “Seriously,” Max said, “if we get there early enough, we’ll catch a ride. That spa’s a popular place. People coming and going at all hours.”

  “On to the next challenge,” I said. “Breaking into the spa itself. And into the building I think is a medical facility.”

  “Why?” Price frowned. “What’s the reason for all this secrecy? Why not just ask the reception desk for a tour?”

  “Dude, that wouldn’t be any fun.”

  “Guys, I can’t tell you why right now. Call it a hunch. Plus, I just want to have a look around. See if this hunch leads anywhere.”