Cruise: A Thriller

by Suzanne Vermeer

  I never intentionally meant to hurt you. It just happened, but I let it happen. It was an out-of-control affair. At least, that’s what I think it was now. I have recently had enough time to think about everything deeply and have come to that conclusion. It was not real love between Romina and me. It was just lust that led to a pregnancy. After that, other motives began to play a role. I was confused by it all, if I am very honest, which fucking hurts a lot, and then it was not love but pure greed. That is what it was for Romina too, maybe even more so than me. I didn’t see her true nature until the courtroom, and only then did I begin to see the motivations and consequences. But by then there was no turning back.

  I was always under the impression that I would be the big winner in all of this, but I ended up being the loser. In retrospect, I realize that I lived in a fog. I was blinded by the promise of a better life. The fact that we could not have children ate away at me, though I never showed it and even blamed you for it. It’s not easy to give up a deep desire because your partner can’t meet your needs. Even though we had a strong bond, it wasn’t strong enough for this. I wanted more out of life, but went too far in trying to achieve it. The only woman I’ve ever been in love with is you, Heleen. I understand that you hate and distrust me now, but please take this from me unconditionally. It is the absolute truth.

  I sit in my cell and talk to myself. Sometimes out loud. During those rare few moments that I experience a glimmer of hope, I am confident that one day I will reach you through some other unknown dimension, which will be a relief, as my sincere repentance will finally be heard. I fantasize about forgiveness from both of you. But can you ever forgive me?

  The pictures show the reality—happiness smiling at my pain from a distance. Mixed feelings are rising within me, and I find my ever-changing moods more and more difficult to handle. I feel hatred, resignation, and love. My spirit regularly takes off with my mind. Then I no longer know what is real. The demons in my head show me images that will eventually lead to my redemption. The more I see them, the more I believe that it’s the truth, or in any case, it is the solution.

  I feel the storm in my head returning.

  45

  Heleen gently tucked David into bed. He had fallen asleep on her lap after lunch. She had waited ten minutes before slowly getting up. His breathing was now deep and regular. She slid a thin sheet over him and put the fan on. So it was a little cooler in the room.

  She walked back to the patio on her toes. Hopefully during the next two hours things would remain quiet. David really needed his afternoon nap. If he stayed awake, then fatigue would strike him down around seven o’clock. Fighting against the sleep, he would become cranky and pushy. The first two days she had skipped his afternoon nap. In their enthusiasm, they had used every minute of the day to do fun things, like visiting the beach.

  This was the fifth day of David’s stay. Besides one single crying incident, it was all moving along harmoniously. She had to adjust to this pretend motherhood, she had to admit, but she enjoyed every second of it. David was just as cute in their daily interactions as he had been every time she had visited Ana.

  Before the sleepover, Heleen had first discussed some things with Ana, who had told her earlier that David was very flexible, despite his young age. During the first few days with Ana he had constantly asked about his father and mother. A few weeks later, they came up less and less in conversations. After about four months, he no longer seemed to mention them at all and seemed to have accepted the fact that they were no longer there. At least, that was her conclusion.

  Ana had passed her exam. Together with David, Heleen had congratulated her on the phone. Ana was dreading the next few days, but was happy to hear that David was having so much fun. This made the prospect of the tours and survival days somewhat bearable.

  Heleen also felt the fatigue settling in. Slowly, she dozed off. In that state of limbo, where her consciousness was about to slide into complete surrender, she thought about Ana. She had such admiration for this woman. She remained standing proud in a situation that had been largely imposed on her. As David’s only remaining relative, she was the only one who was able to raise him, and she had had to make a big decision: take the boy in or send him off to a state care facility. She had spared him from the horror of an orphanage, where love and happiness were not always on the daily menu.

  From their conversations together, she had gathered that Ana’s youth had not been very pleasant. For her parents, it was all about Romina. Jorge was a strange bird, and Ana’s outward appearance also didn’t help matters. She had been chubby since her adolescence. She had been an ideal target for ruthless classmates who picked on her so they could hide their own shortcomings. Her love life had also not exactly been a bed of roses. While her friend didn’t reveal much more about this, Heleen concluded from certain statements that she had been cheated on several times by different men. She also often emphasized that she was perfectly happy with her current situation. Raising David gave her satisfaction and the extra energy she had lacked before. She had started to study in the evenings to get her degree as an optician.

  Heleen’s thoughts ran off. Her head slumped sideways. If David should wake up, I’m sure I will hear him, she thought.

  Somewhere in the background of her consciousness, a mosquito was buzzing around. The sound was getting stronger, more vicious. Was it a wasp? No, it wasn’t strong enough to be a wasp. When it dawned on her that it was her cell phone that was buzzing, she was startled and sat up right in the bed. Still half-asleep, she walked into the living room.

  “Hello?”

  There was nothing but silence. Because she forgot to look at the caller ID in her rush to answer she did not know who was calling.

  “Hola,” she now tried in Spanish.

  “It’s Monique.” Heleen was shocked by the flat, harsh, and aloof tone her former sister-in-law took with her.

  “Hi, Monique,” she replied hesitantly. “How’s it going?”

  Besides the slight crackle in the phone line, she heard nothing. She waited a few seconds. “Monique, are you all right?”

  “No, not really.” Her impersonal tone now sounded like restrained anger. “Frank is dead.”

  Heleen felt her throat close. She gasped.

  “What? You’re … not serious. What do you mean he is dead?”

  The hostility on the other end of the line was palpable.

  “He was found this morning; he hung himself in his cell.”

  This specific detail began to make ​​her dizzy. Images of Frank hanging from a rope appeared on her retina. She wavered. In order not to fall, she clung to the top of a wooden chair.

  “Why, Heleen? Why did you do this? A life sentence wasn’t enough for you? He had to die too? Was that the price he had to pay for your resentment?”

  Monique implacable words forced her back into reality. “What are you talking about?” She asked desperately. Her voice cracked.

  “Ah, yes, of course: the innocent housewife. Well, Heleen, you can stop pretending with me, because you have shown your true nature now. No one is going to fall for that trick anymore, you evil witch. I hope you burn in hell!”

  Heleen was dumbfounded. She did not know this side of Monique. Obviously the death of a loved one could do strange things to you. But why would Monique blame her directly for Frank’s death? She couldn’t be serious? None of this made sense. She took a deep breath.

  “Listen, Monique, I understand that you’re upset.” While her heart was pounding, she tried to speak as quietly as possible. “I don’t understand why you are blaming me. I’m in Spain and haven’t spoken to Frank in over a year.” Overwhelmed by uncertainty, she did not know where to look. As if she had put the noose around his neck? Her gaze moved back and forth quickly, searching for an answer: the wall, paintings, television, and the patio door … oh, the patio.

  Before Monique could reply, Heleen suddenly realized where this accusation came from. The impact was so great that she
had to sit down on the floor quickly to avoid falling over. With her face cringing with disgust, she waited for the accusation that would surely follow now.

  “Under Frank’s feet they found pictures of you and David,” Monique said with an icy voice. “When they found him the pictures were still wet. They were wet from his tears, Heleen. He wept over those pictures and then hung himself.”

  After a sarcastic “congratulations,” she hung up.

  46

  This is something I never wanted. This I could have never foreseen. This is a series of events I could never have predicted. This is a disaster that I never saw coming. Nobody could have imagined this, so neither did I.

  Right? Jesus, why am I fooling myself? I’m a liar who continues to categorically deny everything. By playing the innocent wife, the unsuspecting victim … This I am good at. It’s really sickening when someone places herself in such a victim role. Yes, I wanted to hurt him. But no, I did not want anything to happen to him, at least, nothing bad. A hysterical crying fit maybe, or a tantrum, for him to be left with a desolate feeling. A painful experience, brought on by the woman he had hurt so deeply, down to the depths of her soul. It was payback time, simple revenge in a very subtle way. That was the reasoning behind it, nothing more or less.

  It was an impulsive act that I had not even given very much thought to.

  One night while sitting on the patio, I could see him in front of me in his cell, his face buried in his hands, affected and remorseful. It had finally dawned on him that he had made some wrong choices. Cheating on me was the worst thing he had ever done in his life.

  I had moved on to other things in the meantime. This was just the one final blow that he deserved.

  But how should I proceed now? What should I say to David tomorrow? Should I say anything to him at all? How do I explain to a little four-year-old boy that his father is dead? That he hung himself because of pictures that I sent him, which show him and me visibly enjoying life, together.

  Do I call Ana, or not? After my call she will undoubtedly cancel the rest of her trip and come straight home. From the airport she will drive straight here. As David’s legal guardian, she is obliged to protect David from any negative outside influences. This could mean that I may not see David again for a very long time. Or maybe never again?

  The funeral will probably take place in a few days. Do I go or not go? I would prefer to stay at home. I will act as normal as possible to David, however difficult that may be.

  Not making any decisions for now is better than making the wrong decision. If I tell David the truth, I might unleash uncontrollable forces. It is impossible to predict how he will react. I need to try and manage this situation in the best way possible.

  David, he is all that matters. He is the most important thing. The rest is irrelevant.

  47

  There was not a single sign of emotion on the female doctor’s face. She turned her back to the patient and left the infirmary. “Call an ambulance,” she told the night guard.

  “The diagnosis is acute appendicitis,” she said to the man without looking up from her chart. “Tell them this is the first diagnosis. They need to get a second opinion in the hospital. But given the symptoms and the limited facilities here, I cannot take the risk and have no choice but to send her there.”

  The guard nodded. Like most of his colleagues, he hated this doctor for her unfriendly and arrogant attitude. He called the local ambulance service. They would be on site within twenty minutes. He hung up and called the hospital in Girona, saying that he would arrive by ambulance in about a half hour with a patient from the correctional facility for female prisoners. He closely followed the procedure by stating the diagnosis and the additional information the doctor had supplied. When this was over, he delved back into the sports section in the newspaper. It was two o’clock in the morning. His shift finished at four.

  Two guards escorted the paramedics to the women’s prison’s infirmary. In total, there were three women in this department. The doctor who made the diagnosis was standing next to the bed of the patient who was being transported. She watched the paramedics as they gently placed the woman on a stretcher with wheels. When this was done, she nodded briefly to them, ignored the friendly good-bye from the driver, and walked toward the infirmary entrance.

  As the ambulance left the prison grounds, the paramedics slowly relaxed. It wasn’t every day that they had to pick up a prisoner. The paramedic next to the patient noticed that she opened her eyes occasionally. She seemed to be in a lot of pain. He wanted to ask her how she was doing, but the rules regarding contact with a detainee were very strict. Only in an emergency could he talk to her. He kept it to a warm smile and a compassionate look in his eyes.

  The woman was not handcuffed. Because of the medical and humane considerations, it was considered to be irresponsible to let her rest or sleep with handcuffed hands on her belly. Placing them on her back was not an option either and to chain her to the stretcher was against safety regulations.

  The driver chose the highway. Because there was no acute threat or danger, he did not use the flashing lights or siren. Because of the monotonous sound of the engine, the almost deserted road and the late hour, his attention drifted off somewhat, and he was not prepared for what was about to happen at all. To give the woman some dignity and privacy the paramedic in the back regularly looked away.

  So he did not see how her left hand moved, inch by inch, over her right hand. Her fingertips found the gap between the buttons. Slowly, she slid her right hand inside her uniform. Slowly she took the objects that she had managed to smuggle with her from her panties.

  She sat up amazingly fast. She grabbed the paramedic by his uniform and pulled him close to her. In her hand she held a small, sharp object. She pressed the tip against the carotid artery in his neck.

  She stood up. Much to her delight, she could see the terror in his eyes. He was defenseless and wasn’t planning on offering any resistance. She dragged him to the front of the cabin. When the driver was about a meter away from her, she saw how his eyes were focused on her in the rearview mirror. The look suited her as well. This man would not try any heroic stunts.

  “If you do what I say, your colleague will live,” she said menacingly. The driver nodded passively.

  48

  It had been going so well, Heleen thought. Maybe she had been running away from the facts or was in some state of denial, but up until now her daily routine had given her peace. That peace was gone now. Worse, her nerves had gotten the best of her after she received Monique’s phone call.

  After a sleepless night, she had made a decision. She would only focus on David for the next few days, making sure he had a wonderful time. When she brought him back to Ana, she would have a heart-to-heart talk with her girlfriend. By that time, enough time would have passed to fully assess the situation. In the worst-case scenario, Ana would freak out, which could mean the end of their friendship. Although she doubted that would happen, it was still a very real possibility. Yesterday, she had strolled through the orchard with David, watched a few DVDs, and played card games with him. Late in the afternoon, Ana had called to see if everyone was still having a good time. After that was confirmed by both parties, she had spoken to her nephew. The conversation was short-lived, however, as David insisted that he wanted to continue with the card game. At half past nine, he had fallen into bed, completely exhausted, and slept until eight a.m. the following morning.

  The call came a half an hour later. Juan Benitez was one of the detectives who had worked on the case in Blanes. He asked her to come to the police station that morning. The firm undertone in his friendly voice indicated that it was important. She promised to come immediately and hung up the phone.

  From that moment on, all that was left of her inner peace was gone. The uncertainty about what Benitez wanted to discuss gnawed away at her. It didn’t seem very likely that he wanted her to come down to the office to talk about Frank’s suicide. But she w
as still afraid of the accusation. It was likely that Frank had hanged himself because of the pictures she sent.

  A prosecutor could surely argue that the photos were sent by her with the intention to hurt him deeply and to send him into a fit of rage and madness and take some sort of irrevocable action. After all, as the old saying goes, revenge is a dish best served cold. In that case it could be seen as premeditated murder. Her mind continued to spin. First she needed to see what the police actually wanted from her.

  She parked the car in front of the police station and took David from his car seat in the back. Hand in hand, they walked inside. His carefree smile could not take away the knot in her stomach. As she entered the building, she felt as if her insides were clumped together into a concrete ball.

  After she announced herself at the front desk, she took a seat in the waiting room. A few minutes later, Juan Benitez appeared, a tall, slender man in his forties. He seemed vaguely familiar to her. The woman next to him introduced herself as Sergeant Maria Lopez-Pedroga. During the interview she would take care of David so that they could talk without being disturbed.

  But David refused to go with this woman who was a stranger to him. He only agreed after Heleen used all of her powers of persuasion, adding the promise of ice cream and other goodies into the mix. With this pleasant prospect in mind, David, still somewhat reluctantly, walked off with Mary. A man was seated in the spacious meeting room; his appearance was the polar opposite of Benitez’s. Because of his broad shoulders and thick neck, his dark-blue jacket seemed at least two sizes too small. He was bald, had a small stature, and had eyes that looked right through you. Benitez introduced him as Oscar Alderon, a colleague with whom he had worked closely on this case. She shook his hand and sat down at a long table. Benitez opened a briefcase and put a stack of papers on the table.