Her Final Word

by Willow Rose

  And that was now.

  The person walked up to the clubhouse and entered from the poolside, smiling at a woman walking out with her small dog in her purse. The young girl was waiting tables, smiling at a couple to whom she had just served cocktails. Smiling for those great tips she would soon get, and she got a lot of them. The person had been observing her for quite some time and had seen how she almost shoveled them in. Especially the men liked her, which was no surprise. She was a gorgeous girl, small and blonde with a slim waist. She looked very much like the girl the person had just gotten rid of.

  The figure watched the girl as she worked the floor and while listening in on her casual conversations with the customers or with the other waiters. The eavesdropping over the past several months had given the person lots of important information on the girl. Now, the person didn't like to know their names, since their names were of no importance, but couldn't avoid seeing the name tag reading Coraline. The person also knew that Coraline was nineteen and that she was in the Bahamas taking a year off before starting college back in Boston next year. She had no boyfriend since she wanted to make the most of this year and not let some guy hold her back, as she explained to the receptionist one day. Her parents were divorced, an ugly one, and she had lived with her father all her life, going through several stepmoms who all wanted him for his money and all wanted her out of their way. Coraline was wealthy, and her father had gotten her the job at the clubhouse in one of the most lucrative neighborhoods in the world. She knew he had gotten her that because he thought it was a safe place to send her now that she absolutely wanted to go into the world and meet people like most young people did. And probably also because he assumed she would meet some nice guy there, some rich guy or someone who was a son of just that, someone who could provide for her for the rest of her life, or at least till they got divorced and she ran with half of what he had. Coraline's dad was rich, but not overwhelmingly wealthy the way most people living in Lyford Cay were. The person guessed he saw an opportunity to make sure his daughter was taken care of by getting her this job. It wasn't a wrong assumption.

  Looking at it from the outside, Lyford Cay would seem like a very safe place to send your precious daughter.

  38

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  Mrs. Elkington looked like she had aged ten years since I last saw her. She was pale, almost ash-grey and her eyes completely void of any life. Her husband was standing by the window, looking out, his arms crossed behind his back. He hadn't uttered a word since I entered.

  "Have you been sleeping at all?" I asked them.

  I was visiting them at the hotel where they were staying. Emily was with me and had sat down on a couch in the back.

  Mrs. Elkington shook her head. Her eyes were swollen from crying. "I…I don't know how to…there are all the arrangements, we need to get her a proper burial, you know? And…they won't…they don't know when they'll be able to release the body to us."

  "They need it for the investigation," I said and placed a hand on top of Mrs. Elkingtons. "They haven't done the autopsy yet, and it might take a few days, maybe even a week or more. I don't know how fast they work around here, but back home…"

  I didn't get to finish the sentence before Mrs. Elkington burst into tears. Emily sprang to her feet and handed her a tissue box from the bathroom. She pulled one out and wiped her eyes. There were no traces of make-up on the tissue when she was done. Even if she had put any on this morning, she had been crying so much it was already gone.

  "I am so sorry," she said. "It overwhelms me from time to time."

  "It's only natural," I said and glanced at Mr. Elkington. It wasn't the ones who cried I usually worried about the most. It was the ones who bottled it all up.

  "He's been staring out that window ever since we received the news," she said, leaning forward and talking in a low voice like he wasn't able to hear her. "I can't get him to eat anything, and he doesn’t say a word. Just stares and stares out that stupid window."

  I smiled, realizing all Mrs. Elkington needed was for him to be with her in this, her hour of need. For him to hold her hand and talk to her. But that wasn't always the way people reacted.

  "He'll come along. We all grieve differently."

  She exhaled. "She was our only daughter, you know? We had her late. Thought I couldn't conceive since it didn't happen for years and then suddenly, puff, there she was. She was such a sweetheart, so loving and so…did you know she won an essay contest when she was only in fifth grade? She wanted to be a writer." She glared at her husband. "He was so proud of her. Prouder than any father could possibly be."

  "I bet," I said and glanced at Emily. I hoped she knew just how proud I was of her. It tormented me that she couldn't love herself, that she couldn't see how amazing she really was. I guess Mrs. Elkington now wondered if their daughter ever knew how proud they were of her. They would never get the chance to tell her again.

  "How are they doing on the investigation?" Mrs. Elkington said. "Are they any closer to finding out who did this…awful thing to my daughter?"

  I exhaled. Getting closure was so important for the relatives at this point, but it was rarely something I could provide this early. I knew they expected me to take part in the investigation, which I was in a way, but not in the way they assumed I was. I had tried to reach out to Commissioner Maycock, but he had told me they had it all under control and that they would let the Americans know once they had news. I didn't know if by Americans he meant me or Nancy's parents or maybe the Embassy, but I assumed he didn't want me snooping around and finding fault in his investigation. He wanted to do this his way and, by acting like he believed I had something to do with it, he could keep me as far away as he wanted to.

  "I know that they are working very hard," I said. "It is their top priority right now and…"

  Mr. Elkington made a sound that was more like a snort, and I stopped talking.

  "Don't mind him," his wife said. "He's just angry at them for not taking it serious enough when she went missing. That's not your fault, Detective Ryder. You did the best you could. I know you did."

  "And rest assured I will keep a close eye on this case and let you know if anything new happens. But right now, I have a question I need to ask you both."

  I pulled out my phone and found the screenshot that Emily had taken for me and sent me. I showed it to Mrs. Elkington.

  "Did Nancy have a tattoo?" I asked.

  Mrs. Elkington looked at the photo, then back up at me. She glanced briefly at her husband.

  "John, come see this."

  He grunted something, then decided to come anyway and looked at it over her shoulder.

  "I have never seen this before," he said.

  "So, you have never seen this tattoo before?" I said, feeling a small pinch of hope grow inside of me.

  "No," Mrs. Elkington said sounding appalled. "We would certainly know if our daughter had something like that on her body, destroying it in that way that the young do today."

  "And she couldn't have been hiding it from you?"

  "We would have seen it," Mrs. Elkington said. "On the cruise ship at the pool. We saw her in her bikini every day. Plus, she would never do that to us. She knew we were very much against tattoos."

  "So, it is new," I concluded. "Could she have gotten it before she was kidnapped?"

  Mrs. Elkington shrugged. "I don't think she would ever do that to us, but it is, of course, a possibility. I could try and ask Maria, the friend she was with when they left the ship. Wait a sec," she said and got up.

  Mrs. Elkington walked to her purse and pulled out a phone, then left us with it against her ear.

  I could hear her talking in the hallway for a few minutes before she returned, shaking her head.

  "No, they didn't get any tattoos. Maria said it wasn't something Nancy would ever do. She didn't like tattoos and was too afraid of needles even to consider it."

  "And what about what it says?" I asked. "Does tha
t mean anything to you?"

  Mrs. Elkington looked at the picture closely again, then shook her head. "Joy? What is that even supposed to mean?"

  39

  Lyford Cay, Bahamas, October 2018

  Coraline Stuart was just finishing work. She went to the lockers in the back and found her clothes, then started to get undressed, then changed back into her own clothes.

  Working at Lyford Cay was fun and a great work environment. Not that Coraline had anything to compare it with since it was her first and only job ever. But she liked it; she liked getting by on her own for once and making money. Coraline wasn't used to being on her feet this much all day, so she sat down and massaged them, just as another waiter, Meghan, came in.

  "So, what are you up to tonight?'' she asked. "You have the day off tomorrow, don't you?"

  Coraline smiled and nodded.

  "Don't tell me you're seeing him again?" Meghan said, giving her a look of concern.

  "Why not?" Coraline chuckled.

  "Oh, you are in deep waters there, missy. He is trouble; you know that, right?" she asked.

  Coraline groaned. "I’m just having fun. That's all."

  "Promise me you're not putting more into it than that. And even so, having fun can be dangerous."

  Coraline rolled her eyes at her friend while putting on her sandals, the ones that went so well with her yellow summer dress. "You're starting to sound a lot like my dad."

  Meghan shrugged. "So, where is he taking you?"

  "He said he'd pick me up in his car when I got off."

  Meghan slammed her locker shut, then gave Coraline a look. "Well, have fun, but be careful, promise?"

  "Of course."

  Meghan left, and Coraline looked at her face in the mirror. She found her make-up bag and started to apply some mascara and eyeliner. She went a little too heavy on the eyeliner and had to remove some of it using a Q-Tip. She bent her head down to wet it under the faucet, then looked up into the mirror again. When her eyes were raised, she spotted someone standing behind her, a face staring at her over her shoulder.

  "Oh, dear Lord, you scared me," she said, holding a hand to her chest. She reapplied the eyeliner while the person stared at her, head slightly tilted, eyes scrutinizing her. Coraline looked at her reflection again, then smacked her lips.

  "How do I look?" she said, glancing at the person in the mirror behind her. The person came closer and stood right behind her, and she could feel the person's breath on her neck.

  "Beautiful," the person said.

  Coraline smiled from ear to ear. "I do, don't I?"

  "You really do," the person replied.

  Coraline made a few kissing faces at herself, then turned to face the person standing behind her, when she felt a sharp prick of a needle biting into her thigh.

  40

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  We ate dinner at the hotel's restaurant, sitting by the pool, surviving through yet another of their famous karaoke nights. I had conch fries—again—and Emily stuck with a salad. Something was very different about the way she approached her food. She didn't push it around on the plate twenty-four times before eating any of it; she didn't arrange it differently like she usually did, probably to make it look like she ate. No, during this meal, she simply sat down and started to eat while her mind seemed to be elsewhere. I gobbled down my conch fries and coconut shrimp and I watched her closely, wondering what was going on in that beautiful head of hers.

  I drank from my local beer, Kalik, which was very refreshing in the heat, listening to some guy sing an Adele song completely out of tune. I couldn't even decipher which song it was.

  "I bet he has done it before," Emily said through the loud music, pointing at me with her fork.

  "Why do you say that?" I asked, biting down on yet another conch fry, crunching loudly.

  "Well, we agree he killed Ella Maria too, right? Why should it have started there?" she asked.

  I nodded, smiling. I had had the very same thought during the day.

  "What if the local authorities simply didn't make the connections?" she continued. "Either because they didn't want to because having a serial killer on the loose is bad for tourism, or because they're not qualified enough to see it, or even look for it."

  "Qualified," I repeated laughing. "You're being very diplomatic. I would have used another word, but yours is better."

  She ignored me, too deep into her thoughts.

  "I’m serious here. A guy like him could have gotten away with this for years without getting caught."

  "That is very likely," I said and grabbed the last fry. I had spoken to Shannon earlier, and both she and the kids were doing well. Tyler had flushed Abigail's favorite Monster High doll in the toilet, and she had responded by pulling the leg off of Tyler's favorite teddy bear. But other than that, they were fine, Shannon had promised me. She had sewn the leg back onto the bear and Tyler had said he was sorry for trying to take her doll for a swim. I knew it had to be tough for Shannon, and I felt for her, I really did.

  Emily rose to her feet.

  "Where are you going?" I asked.

  "I'm done," she said.

  I looked at her plate; she had only eaten half of her salad. It disappointed me, but there was something different with the way she refused to eat this time. It didn't seem like it was because she wanted to lose weight or was even focused on that. There was something else. Something urgent on her heart.

  "Well, I’m not," I said and threw out my arms. "I still have my shrimp and half of my beer left."

  She didn't even look at me. She just grabbed the keycard and started to walk.

  "I'll see you up there."

  41

  Bahamas, July 1983

  They carried her body away. The girl watched as they opened the door to the shed and Gabrielle's lifeless body slid out. Her skin was swollen and covered in blisters. The White Lady took one disgusted look at her, then told the girls to get rid of it.

  So, they did. Crying and sobbing heavily, Carla grabbed Gabrielle's limp body and, with the help from two other girls, they carried her into the backyard, where the gardener dug a deep hole for them to put her in.

  Carla sang a couple of songs, and they cried together, while the girl watched them from a distance, feeling the metallic taste of anger rise in the back of her mouth, tasting like bile.

  When they were done, Carla approached the girl, reached out her hand, and the girl took it. They walked in silence back to the kitchen where they continued their chores.

  The girl watched Carla as she cried into the flour while baking. She looked up at her, then asked.

  "How come the police don’t come?"

  Carla shook her head in answer.

  "How come they don't arrest The White Lady?" the girl continued.

  Carla sniffled. "The police don't care about us."

  "Why not?" the girl asked, feeling tears of anger pile up.

  "Because we're illegal," Carla said. "We're not allowed to be here."

  "B-but she's dead. Gabrielle was killed. The White Lady killed her," the girl said, clenching her jaw.

  Carla exhaled. She had her fingers deeply planted inside the dough, and her scarred arms were covered in flour.

  "She broke the rules. She ran away and so she was punished. If the police had gotten to her, she would have been killed too. We told her it was too dangerous, and she wouldn't listen. She brought this upon herself, upon us as well."

  "But…"

  Carla pulled her hands out of the dough, then cleaned them before grabbing the girl by the shoulders. She forced her to look into her eyes.

  "You have to let it go, you hear me? All we can do is move on. You are lucky. The White Lady adores you. If you treat her well and follow her rules, then one day you might get a lot of freedom. Like me. She trusts me, which means I get to leave the house from time to time. I get to go into town and run errands. I get to go places because she knows I will always come back. If you behave well, if
you show her she can trust you, then one day you might get that too. You might get to have the freedom that I have. A girl like Gabrielle didn't understand that. But you do. I see it in your eyes. The White Lady cares for us. She takes good care of us. We have nowhere else to go."

  The girl stared into Carla's eyes and knew at this moment that she loved her. Carla had been like a mother to her through all her life in the house. She was the closest she got to having a parent.

  "Do you understand what I am saying?" Carla said. "There are other ways of surviving. Running away is not one of them. You can get plenty of freedom if you just play by the rules, if you play your cards right. Are you listening?"

  The girl bit her lip, then nodded.

  "Y-yes."

  Carla then pulled her into a warm embrace and kissed the top of her head.

  "Smart girl."

  42

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  I finished my beer and my shrimp, then walked back up to the hotel room where I found Emily at her computer. She was staring like she was hypnotized by the screen, not even noticing that I had entered.

  I turned on the TV, then flipped through a few channels till I felt overwhelmed by my exhaustion and dozed off.

  When I woke up a few hours later, the TV was still on, and Emily was still awake.

  "Are you never going to sleep again?" I asked and turned off the TV. My eyes felt like I had sand in them.

  She looked up and smiled. "I can sleep when I get older…like you."

  "Ha-ha. Very funny," I said and sat on her bed. "But I am serious, Em. Staying up night after night isn't healthy."

  She looked at me. I saw a spark in her eyes I hadn't seen in a very long time. It overwhelmed me with joy.

  "I found something," she said.