Her Final Word
Page 17
"It's over, Mr. Chauncey," I said and reached out my hand. I shot Coraline a glance and could tell she was about to lose it. "Just hand me the gun, and then we'll talk, okay? I'd like to hear everything about your Rosie. I bet she was very special to you."
"She was the love of my life. I…I…" he said, his hand shaking so badly the gun rattled in his hand.
Coraline whimpered next to him. I wondered if the bullet could kill her too if he fired. If he missed or somehow turned the gun in the last second, then it would.
"It's okay, Mr. Chauncey," I said. "We'll figure it out. No more people need to die today."
"I loved her," he sobbed. "She was everything. She was the only one who understood me."
"I’m sure she was, Mr. Chauncey," I said. "I’m sure she was all kinds of special. I have one of those myself, and I think we should talk about that. About how much you loved her and were willing to do for her. What you had together was quite unique."
"It was. It really was. You'll never understand."
"Then I expect you to explain it to me."
Dylan Chauncey made a groaning sound like he was about to scream, but couldn't get the sound across his lips, then bent slightly forward. I interpreted it that he was about to give me the gun and reached out my hand further, but as he lifted his glance and stared into mine, I knew it was over.
Dylan Chauncey pulled the trigger, and Coraline exploded in an ear-piercing scream.
79
Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018
"I’m still not sure I understand this story fully, but I guess a thank you is in order. And maybe an apology."
Commissioner Maycock reached out his hand toward me. We were sitting at the police station in Nassau two days later.
As soon as Mr. Chauncey shot himself, I had called Maycock and told him everything. At first, he had been skeptical and told me he sure didn't enjoy being woken up in the middle of the night for a practical joke, but once I had explained to him that we had Coraline Stuart, alive, he had understood I was being serious.
He had then arrived along with an ambulance and what seemed like his entire crew of officers and I had told him the entire incredible story. Now, as Coraline had been reunited with her mother and we had been able to tell the Elkingtons the truth about their daughter's death, it was time to say goodbye. Emily and I were going home later that same afternoon, and to be frank, we were both quite looking forward to it.
Sofia and Juan had both been released from prison the very next day, and Sofia reunited with her daughter. I had helped them with money to buy tickets to get back to Columbia. The Columbian Embassy had helped them with temporary passports, urged along by Commissioner Maycock, who I suspected felt like he owed Sofia one. Together, Sydney and Sofia wanted to start a new life back in their home country, a life of freedom.
Sofia had come here when she was just ten years old and was supposed to continue to the U.S. and find her parents and Lisa who had been born while her parents were in Florida, a sister she had never known and never would. But the uncle she had traveled with had ended up taking money from some terrible people and sold her into slavery in the Bahamas, a country she was only meant to pass through on her way to be reunited with her family. Sydney was born in the Bahamas, but there were no records of her existence since she had been born in slavery, in the back house of the Chaunceys’ million-dollar mansion.
Once she had been released, and she dared to talk to us, she had explained that she had been too terrified for Sydney's life, so she hadn't dared to say a word when we had visited her. We had also learned that Sofia was actually Emily's aunt and my former partner, Lisa, her sister. That meant that Sydney was her cousin. It also meant that back in Columbia waited more relatives, but Emily wasn't ready to look for any more of them right now, she told me. They were going to stay in touch; that was the plan. Maybe one day Sydney and Sofia would be able to come live with us in Florida. I wanted that for them so badly, especially for Emily's sake, but it was a long process and, until then, we'd have to just call and write.
The workers at the Chaunceys’ house had all disappeared. Once the police got to the estate after Rosie and Dylan Chauncey shot themselves, they were no longer on the property. Maycock had explained to me that they had undoubtedly run away and would probably end up in the streets or in the hands of other unscrupulous people who would exploit the fact that they were here illegally. It was the sad reality for many illegal immigrants who came to the islands, he had told me. Meanwhile, they had dogs search the premises and found human remains in the backyard along with Mrs. Chauncey's skeleton in the basement. They were now going to dig up the entire area and try to ID the people buried out there in order to find their next of kin and alert them if possible. It was a massive puzzle and was going to take months if not years to solve.
"Have a safe trip back, and if you ever come back to the Bahamas, then please go do something touristy, will you?"
I shook Maycock's hand, and he escorted me to the door while laughing wholeheartedly. I had to admit, I had grown to like the old commissioner.
"I’ll try my best," I said as I took one last glance at the tall Commissioner Maycock, who was holding his belly and chuckling, reminding me for some strange reason suddenly of Santa.
80
Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018
Emily was waiting for me back at the hotel. She was packing up and, as I entered, she stood with her scale between her hands, staring at it.
"Do you realize I haven't weighed myself in at least a week?" she said, not looking up at me as I walked in. "I guess I completely forgot."
I closed the door behind me, then approached her, my heart throbbing in my throat.
"Yeah? Well, so what?" I said, trying to sound all casual about it, pretending like I didn't know this was a huge deal.
She put the scale down on the ground, then stared at it. She put one foot on it and let it lean there for a few seconds.
"I bet I gained at least several pounds," she said. "With all the food I’ve been eating while we worked on this case."
I shrugged, not telling her she had eaten, yes, but barely anything compared to anyone else. But for her it was a lot, I knew that much.
She looked up, and her eyes met mine. "I don't think I care."
I felt tears in my eyes but held them back. "Really?" I said, my voice becoming uncomfortably shrill.
She nodded and removed her foot from the scale. "I think I'll wait till we get back home."
She grabbed the scale and put it back in her suitcase, then closed it with a smile. I fought not to cry while praying on the inside that she would throw out that stupid scale once we did get back home.
"So…" I said and looked at my watch. "We still have five hours before we leave. What do you want to do? You want to do something touristy?"
She made a face. "Not really."
"Nah, me either. After this vacation we've had, I can't wait to get back home and get to work," I said laughing.
"How about we just relax a little then head for the airport?" she asked.
"Sounds like a plan." I threw myself on the bed and turned on the TV and, seconds later, dozed off, while Emily went on her computer.
About an hour later, I woke up because Emily was shaking my arm. "Dad. Dad. Wake up."
I blinked my eyes, trying to get back to reality. My sleep had been heavy and my dream vivid.
"What's going on?"
"She was strangled to death," she said almost out of breath.
I sat up. "What are you talking about?"
She showed me her computer. "Ella Maria Chauncey. I just read it in the autopsy report. She was strangled to death."
"You hacked…again?" I asked.
"Yes, well actually, it was an article in a newspaper that I just read that mentioned it. They said she was found strangled in her own pool and I couldn't believe it. It doesn't fit. All the others bled to death because their tongues were cut out. They suffocated, but Ella Maria didn't. She ha
d bruises on her neck. And here's another thing: Ella Maria's tongue wasn't cut out until after she was dead. I can't believe we didn't see it before."
I stared at my daughter, suddenly very awake. "And she didn't have a tattoo either. I remember thinking about it, wondering about it, but concluding that it didn't matter. But, of course, it did."
Emily shook her head. "It wasn't the same killer. It was someone else."
"But…who?"
Emily gave me a look. "I think I might know. There’s something else you need to see."
81
Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018
I rushed through the lobby, bumping into people, making halfhearted excuses as I continued on my way, Emily coming up right behind me, panting heavily. People were walking, lost in their own thoughts, dragging suitcases behind them as we stormed past them and past the three-man band playing happy music for the arriving passengers.
Some yelled at us for bursting through the lines, and someone in a uniform even tried to stop us until I showed my badge.
"American police. This is an emergency."
I had called Maycock from the car, and he was also on his way but would be minutes behind us. He told me he would call and make sure the plane didn't leave and now I just feared that they might realize we were coming for them and get away.
We found them at the gate. They were sitting by the window, looking out at the planes landing and leaving, looking like any other mother and daughter ready for a new adventure.
Sydney lit up when she saw us. But it only lasted a few seconds before she realized something was wrong.
"J-Jack?" she said and approached us, a confused look in her eyes. "Emily? What's going on?"
Her mother, Sofia, stayed in her seat. Her big eyes rested on us while we spoke to her daughter.
"You were pregnant, weren't you?" I asked, out of breath.
Sydney gave me a strange look. "W-what are you talking about?"
Emily stepped forward. "We read the police report. In December of 2017, you were brought to the hospital because you were bleeding heavily."
"It was so bad they had to bring you in, right?" I asked. "Because the bleeding wouldn't stop. It didn't matter that you were illegal. And then the police came and took a report. You had fallen down the stairs, it said. And lost the baby you were carrying. It said that you refused to say where you lived, and the next day you were suddenly gone."
Sydney blushed. Her eyes flickered back and forth. "I was illegal. I had to get help. I would have died if I didn't go. The White Lady helped me get there. She paid the nurses off not to tell the police, but the doctor reported me. As soon as I was better, she made sure I was taken back before they could arrest me. So what?"
"Who was the father?" I asked. "Of your baby?"
Sydney didn't answer. She stared at her feet.
"I’m guessing it was Mr. Sakislov, am I right? It was something his son Henry said when we visited them. He said that he didn't care if they were black or white. He would sleep with any girl. He was the father, am I right?" I continued.
She nodded soundlessly.
"I’m also guessing that it wasn't a fall," I said. "When you lost the baby."
"Ella Maria pushed you, didn't she?" Emily said.
"Because she knew about you and Mr. Sakislov?" I added. "She was jealous?"
Sydney sniffled. "I…I don't know why though."
Her mother came up behind her. "I do," she said. "Because Sergei had promised to take care of Sydney."
"Mom," Sydney said. "Don't…"
"No, baby. It's okay. The truth needed to come out anyway." Sofia caressed her daughter's face lovingly. "You tried, baby. But it didn't work."
"That's why you helped us, wasn't it?" I asked. "I couldn't figure out why you were so helpful to us when we exposed Mr. Chauncey and Rosie, the people who had let you stay in their house. We were nothing but strangers you had met for only a few hours. You knew what was going on in that panic room. Growing up in that house, you knew everything. You also knew that if we found out about them, then your mother might be released. We might think that they were also responsible for Ella Maria's death. Did you come up with the idea to make it look like the others? To cut out her tongue and place her in the pool?"
Sydney sucked in air, then nodded.
"Your mom killed her in anger for what she had done to you?" Emily said. "For pushing you so you lost the baby?"
Sydney nodded.
"She had a future," Sofia said, tears streaming across her cheeks. "Mr. Sakislov had told her he would take care of her and the baby for the rest of their lives. She was about to get out of that awful place that she had been born into. She could get out of the slavery. The baby was her way out. And then that spoiled brat ruined it."
"So, you killed her?"
Sofia's eyes met mine. "I…I didn't mean to…I wanted to punish her but my rage…so many years of anger toward these people who had kept us as slaves for so long…I lost it."
"And then you told Sydney, and she thought of making it look like the other killings. So, when you signed the confession, you were actually admitting to your guilt. But then we came along, and Sydney saw the possibility of getting you out. You could leave and then start over."
Sofia was crying heavily now, her big eyes staring at me.
"I never meant to hurt anyone. We just wanted a new life. We just wanted to be free."
Behind us, I could hear commotion and, seconds later, Commissioner Maycock—flanked by about fifteen officers in very well-ironed, slightly too big uniforms—approached us. They grabbed Sofia and Sydney, then took them away.
Emily clung onto my neck and hugged me. I held her tiny body close while whispering how sorry I was. I then promised her that one day we would travel to Columbia to find more of her family.
That made her chuckle between sobs.
"I’m not sure I dare to," she said and grabbed my hand in hers as we walked out of the airport toward our rental car.
82
Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018
It was hard to get proper rest when people were chattering and walking by in the hallway with heels clicking loudly on the floor.
Because of the pain she had been in when they brought her in, they had given her something that had knocked her out completely, and it had helped for the past several hours, but now she was wide awake.
Her mother was sleeping in a chair next to her bed and looking at her made Coraline feel so happy. Her dad had arrived as well and was staying in some hotel downtown that he said was the worst he had ever been in, but he said that about all hotels. Both her parents had been there the day before and having them there together had ended in a massive fight, one that finally had the nurses come in and tell them that from now on only one of them at a time could be with the patient since she needed her rest after the ordeal she had been through. The old nurse had given them a good and proper scolding, letting them know that, right now, Coraline needed them to be a united front, united in their love for her and there would be no more fighting.
Coraline chuckled when thinking about the look on her parents’ faces when they realized just how childish they had been acting. It was hard to believe those two had once loved one another enough to have a child together.
Coraline chuckled when looking at her mother's wide-open mouth as she sat there in the chair, sleeping with her head bent backward.
She's gonna get a severe neck ache from this.
She contemplated waking her up, but kind of enjoyed the peace and quiet for a little while.
The doctor told her she had been lucky. She was bruised and beaten up, but nothing was broken and there was nothing that wouldn't go away with a little time and care. She was, however, dehydrated, and they were keeping her for observation until her vitals were normal again. And then there was the matter of her mental state. The doctor had told her that once she got back to the U.S., she should see someone, a professional to talk to about what she had been through.
But he was right. She still had nightmares and, even though she knew both of them were dead, she still sometimes felt like she saw them, especially when she dared to go into the hallway to go to the bathroom from time to time and strangers walked past her.
Coraline sighed just as a face peeked in. A frown turned into a smile when she saw who it was.
"Jack! You came!"
Ever since the handsome detective with the soft blond curls had saved her that night in the car, she had been wanting him to visit her. He stepped inside, his daughter right behind him. She was so skinny, her legs looked like those of a skeleton and Coraline wondered if she wasn't well.
"Of course, I came," Jack Ryder said. "We came. To say goodbye. We're leaving late this afternoon."
Coraline sighed, tears springing to her eyes. "Aw. Guess I'll never see you again, then?"
Jack laughed. "If life has taught me anything, it is never to say never."
"Thank you," she said with a deep sigh, her voice quivering slightly. "For saving my life."
He chuckled. "The pleasure was all mine. Or should I say ours. Emily here was the one who knew where to find you. She's the one who solved the case."
"Then, thank you, Emily," Coraline said and reached out her hand toward the girl. Emily took it, and Coraline pulled her into a warm embrace, feeling the bones in her back, then as they pulled apart, she gave her a worried look.
"You'd make a great detective one day."
Emily blushed shyly. "I don't know about that."
A groan emerged from Coraline's mother, and she sat up straight, feeling her neck.
"Ouch."
"Mom? There's someone I want you to meet."