by Agatha Frost
Julia clutched Barker’s hand, grateful to have her husband by her side. Whether it was the bizarreness of the situation, the personal interest, the pregnancy hormones, the heat, or some mixture of it all, she couldn’t quieten the noise in her mind long enough to let her usual logic take the lead.
The room at the back of the café was a small, windowless office with a wraparound desk, a couple of filing cabinets, some stacked cardboard boxes, and two screens displaying a live feed of the security cameras. Maria bent over and used the mouse to navigate through the screens.
After a couple of minutes, Dot and Percy appeared on the screen, rushing into the café from six different angles. They went straight upstairs, where they did a terrible job of hiding behind menus and trying to look inconspicuous.
“Something had them agitated,” Barker said, glancing at Julia, clearly pleased his hunch was right. To Maria, he asked, “Did you notice anyone following them in?”
Maria shrugged and waved her hand, the visit clearly not etched in her mind enough to recall anything other than the money and the note. Without those, Julia knew her gran and Percy would just be two more tourists in an ever-changing sea of them.
“What do they keep looking at?” Julia mused aloud, squinting at the screen. “See? They keep peering over the balcony and doing a terrible job of pretending they’re not. Do you have a camera focused on the door, perhaps?”
“Why the door?” Barker asked.
Maria clicked a couple of buttons, and the camera feeds changed, this time to two separate angles of the outside seating area. Barker made an impressed sound, but Julia couldn’t bask in it.
One man immediately stuck out like a sore thumb. He was the only one alone, the only one not looking at the menu, the only one without an order on his table, and the only one staring intently into the restaurant. Even with his eyes hidden behind his reflective glasses, the angle of his head made it obvious where he was looking.
“Fast forward to when they leave, please,” Julia requested, moving closer to the screens. “I want to see what he does.”
After a few clicks, the video sped up. Maria hit play when Dot and Percy appeared at the bottom of the frame. They hurried past the man, and without missing a beat, he jumped up and followed them.
“Do you know this man?” Barker asked firmly. “Is he a regular here?”
The woman stared at the seat where the man had sat, but eventually, shrugged and shook her head at the same time.
“Who are you?” Julia asked under her breath. “Why did it have to be my gran and Percy?”
“That doesn’t matter right now,” Barker said, giving Julia shoulders another reassuring squeeze. “We have a solid lead. I know it’s not much to work with, but it’s something.” He turned to the woman. “Can I use my phone to film a copy of this to show to the police?”
“Of course,” she said, rewinding the video to Dot and Percy leaving, and stepping aside so Barker would have an unimpeded view.
After dropping a pile of posters on the counter for Maria to give out, they left, armed with yet another lead that meant nothing without context.
“There’s something more to all of this,” Julia said, looking around the quickly emptying plaza. “The way her father cut her off when she mentioned the break-ins, for one thing. My gran’s not the only one who was scared. They’re scared. Minnie is scared. Something is going on here, Barker, and I have a feeling that if we don’t find out, we’ll never stand a chance of finding them.”
“Don’t say—”
“It’s true.” She gazed blankly into the distance, her eyes going all the way out to sea without taking in any of the beauty in front of her. “Minnie and Lisa are playing games, and the inspector isn’t on our side. We need to figure this out, and quickly. I don’t want to find out what happens when that timer runs out.”
Hand in hand, they took the weaving network of back streets and alleyways to La Casa. They arrived at the entrance at the same time as a taxi coming from the opposite direction. Julia recognised the passenger before the taxi even stopped. Impossible as it was, she knew her eyes weren’t failing her.
“Jessie?” Julia and Barker cried at the same time, in an identically shocked tone.
Jessie climbed out of the taxi and passed something to the driver through the window. She wore cutoff denim shorts and a black vest, and she carried a heavy-looking backpack. She ran, the bag bouncing behind her, and crashed into them with open arms.
“What are you doing here?” Julia asked, clinging tightly to her daughter.
“Did you think I was going to sit at home and play café while this was going on?” Jessie pulled away from the hug and tucked Julia’s loose curls behind her ears. “Not a chance, Mum. Everyone is losing their minds back home, seriously. It’s all people in the café are talking about, and even the choir are trying to do a benefit concert to raise the ransom money, although I doubt they’ll be able to raise the full amount. I couldn’t just sit at home and do nothing. Everyone else feels the same.”
“Who’s watching the café?”
“Katie. She’s also feeding Mowgli.” Jessie repositioned the bulky backpack on her shoulders, eyes on her beat-up black and white Converse shoes. “Are you mad at me?”
Julia pulled Jessie into a hug, this time on her own, and whispered, “I’ve never been gladder to see your face.”
10
Dot
The setting sun pushed through the dense trees and into the bedroom. The bars on the window broke the warm light into uniform strips, illuminating the specks of dust in the air. The sunset was probably gorgeous, but Dot could only imagine it since none of the windows provided a view of anything beyond the clearing and the tall trees surrounding it.
She flicked on the naked bulb in the ceiling and continued her search for something tasteful amongst the garish clothes they had been given. There were several items for each of them, but none of it resembled any clothing she had ever worn or would ever wear.
The patterns were busy, the colours loud, and the materials artificial. Still, despite her horror, she needed to wear something. Tightening the towel around her chest, she glanced at her usual clothes, laid out on her bed. After two days of wear in the Spanish heat, she couldn’t bear the idea of climbing back into them.
Defeated, she plucked a matching tracksuit from the pile. Both top and bottom were covered in the same graffiti pattern, which included every colour of the rainbow amongst the mess. They were hideous, and yet somehow the least awful option.
“Oh, dear,” she whispered at her reflection after dressing. “Dorothy South, you have never looked more ridiculous.”
She turned to get a look at the back, but it was just as bad as the front. In any other situation, she would have pulled them right off, but choice was a luxury she didn’t have. People often referred to her as a control freak, a title she never felt fit her. Now that all control had been taken away, she was beginning to understand they might have had a point. She picked up her brooch from the bedside table and attached it to the front pocket of the tracksuit. It wasn’t much, but at least it was familiar, and it was hers.
“You coming out any time soon, dear?” Percy called through the door, accompanied by a gentle knock.
Dot pulled herself away from the mirror and reluctantly opened the bedroom door. Percy looked her up and down, tapping his finger against his chin as he assessed her outfit with a level of care the ugly print didn’t deserve.
“It shows off your figure tremendously!”
“Not every cloud has a silver lining, my dear.” She pinched her husband’s cheek. “But I appreciate the effort all the same.”
Percy laughed, and she couldn’t help but join in. Despite the direness of their situation, it felt good to laugh, even if it was at her expense.
“My turn,” Percy said as he plucked the damp towel from the door hook where Dot had hung it. “How’s the water pressure?”
“Abysmal.”
“As I su
spected.”
After Percy undressed for his first shower in captivity, Dot collected his clothes and added them to her own pile. She took everything through to the kitchen and filled up the sink. In the absence of washing powder, the bar of hand soap would have to do. At least they could wear their own outfits by morning. If they were still alive, of course.
While she scrubbed at the armpits of her blouse, Percy’s off-key impression of Frank Sinatra floated through the villa, accompanied by the sound of running water. She was used to his shower concerts by now. His pitch issues and habit of making up his own words to the classics usually made her purse her lips and roll her eyes, but tonight, it brought a smile to her face. Still scrubbing the blouse, she closed her eyes, and just for a second, she was back in Peridale.
The jangling of keys on the other side of the front door brought her back down to reality. Once again, the locks opened one by one, with the deadbolt last of all. She saw Rafa’s reflection in the dark kitchen window without needing to turn around. As he carried in their dinner, she finished scrubbing the armpit of her blouse and dried her hands on a tea towel.
“It is much cooler in here now,” he remarked. This time, he did not seem to be in a rush to leave again.
“I know you’re not talking about my jazzy new outfit,” she said, pulling at the hem of the zip-up tracksuit top. “But yes, it is. I don’t think I could have coped today without the fan. Thank you again. We really do appreciate it.”
Dot cast her eyes over the food on the tray. More of the same, but with one subtle difference: two small pots of strawberry yoghurt were nestled next to the bread, cheese, meat, and olives. Though the desert was modest, Dot took it as a sign that she had managed to soften the boy’s edges. He’d even come in without his sunglasses, although he still couldn’t look her directly in the eyes. Not a bad thing, she thought, wondering if he was nervous or ashamed.
“I found some of these medications,” he said, reaching into the inside of his leather jacket. “Not all. I did the best I could.”
Rafa handed over a white pharmacy bag. Dot opened it and cast her eyes over the boxes, glad to see Percy’s blood pressure tablets amongst them. She had no idea how he’d managed to source so much medication without prescriptions . . . and she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out. Rafa had passed her test. For now, at least, he wasn’t ready to see them die. As dangerous as she knew it was, Dot felt hope.
“Thank you, Rafa.” Dot made sure to look him in the eyes when she said his name. “One day you’ll get to be my age and know what it feels like to have to toss back pills just to get through the day.”
Dot never thought she’d be in a situation where she’d openly lie about her health. A lifetime of eating well and keeping active, along with good genetics had, for the most part, kept her in the small minority of people her age who didn’t need to depend on daily tablets. And yet, this little lie played into the half-baked plan she’d come up with during her brainstorming session in front of the fan.
“Why don’t you join me for a cup of tea?” Dot asked, already reaching for the kettle. “I know you’re probably not supposed to, but I couldn’t help but notice that those men left a couple of hours ago.”
Rafa scratched at the back of his head, staring at the door he’d left open. As tempting as it was, making a run for it wasn’t on the agenda quite yet. She wouldn’t get very far, for one thing, and she would never leave Percy behind.
“I think I should not,” he said.
Dot couldn’t help but smile as she stood at the kettle, her back to him. That he didn’t flat-out refuse was enough of a thread to pull.
“Oh, go on,” she whispered over her shoulder, sending him a wink. “Don’t refuse an old lady a little company. My dear husband likes to take long showers.”
Rafa said nothing, but he closed the door and locked it from the inside. Perched on the edge of the sunken sofa, he leaned against his knees and looked around the room as if he’d never really seen it before.
The kettle pinged. Dot quickly filled two cups to the brim before he could change his mind, adding milk and sugar without asking. In her experience, most non-British folk never seemed to know how to make a good cup of tea, so she made it exactly how she liked it.
“There’s nothing a cuppa can’t fix,” Dot said she set the two cups on the coffee table next to the recently abandoned game of poker. “How old are you, Rafa? Eighteen? Nineteen? Twenty, at a push? You look about my great-granddaughter Jessie’s age.”
She could tell Rafa didn’t want to answer the question, but she didn’t stop. Getting him talking was part of her plan, and she’d do it one way or another.
“I have three great-grandchildren,” she continued, “and another one on the way. My granddaughter, Julia, is pregnant. She’s here. Well, not here, as such, but she’s in Spain. We were all here for our joint honeymoon. You might think it’s silly at our age, but Percy and I are only recently married. It’s coming up on our two-month anniversary next week. We were going to celebrate it with a meal out in Savega.”
Trying not to stare, Dot assessed his reaction to her rambling about her family. He looked uncomfortable, which was exactly what she’d hoped for. She didn’t want to tell her kidnapper all about her family – but she needed to.
“Nineteen,” he said. “Last month I am nineteen.”
“Ah!” Dot sipped her tea. “So you’re a Cancer. Very giving people.”
Dot believed in horoscopes about as much as she believed in extra-terrestrials, but she’d heard enough about it all from Evelyn, Peridale’s local mystic, to sound convincing.
“I know this isn’t your fault,” she said, offering him a smile as he reached out for the tea. “I might be old, and sometimes foolish, but I can see in your eyes that you don’t want to do this any more than I want to be here.”
Rafa’s tanned cheeks darkened subtly.
“I-I should go,” he said, already standing.
“Please,” Dot said, reaching out and grabbing the sleeve of his leather jacket. “At least finish your tea. I can’t bear to see things go to waste. I’m sure your grandmother is the same way.”
He sat down. Percy’s enthusiastic singing picked up again from the bathroom. Again Dot smiled.
“You’re not much of a talker, Rafa.” She sipped her tea. “Is Rafa a nickname?”
He nodded.
“Everyone calls me Dot, but it’s short for Dorothy.” His lack of response was becoming unbearable. “And my husband, he’s Percy, which is short for Percival.”
“Rafael,” he said, eyes on the tiled floor. “But only my abuela calls me this.”
“Abuela?”
“My grandmother,” he explained. “She raised me.”
“And I bet she only calls you Rafael when you’re in trouble,” Dot said as playfully as she could. “Where are your parents, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Dead,” he said flatly. “When I was a boy.”
Dot hadn’t expected to feel sorry for him, but she did. She’d hoped he’d reveal something personal she could use to her advantage, but knowing he was an orphan made her plan to manipulate him feel wrong, suddenly. Ironic, she thought, considering what he had done to them so far. Still, she’d spent enough time around wayward teenagers over the years to know their actions weren’t always thought out. Heck, even she made mistakes at that age – although at least she could say she’d achieved the ripe old age of eighty-five without participating in the kidnapping of two pensioners.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dot said, and she meant it. “The great-granddaughter I told you about, Jessie? Her parents died too. My granddaughter, Julia, the pregnant one, took her in a few years ago. Jessie was on a bad path. She was a homeless thief, but she turned her life right around. Does your grandmother know what you’re doing now?”
Dot expected Rafa to shake his head, but he threw a spanner in the works and nodded. It wasn’t exactly the family relationship Dot had expected.
�
�She’s involved?” Dot pushed, her sweet voice dropping.
“This is not her fault,” he replied, frowning at the tea. “It is her husband.”
“Your grandfather?”
“He is not my grandfather,” Rafa stated firmly. “He’s – I-I need to go.” He quickly drained the rest of the tea. “I am sorry, Mrs Dorothy.”
Dot gripped his leather jacket again, this time with so much force that his right hand went for the gun. She let go and held her palms up, her hands shaking for real and not for effect.
“My family,” she said as her heart pounded in her chest. “I’d very much like to see them again.”
He stared at her blankly and the apology in his eyes scared her more than anything else over the past two days had done. Before she could push any more, he left, locking the doors quicker than ever. It wasn’t likely she would catch him so off his guard again.
Hugging her tea and staring silently at the blank television, Dot was unable to think of anything but her family. She had avoided focusing too much on them, trying, instead, to live in the moment, but after talking about them out loud, she couldn’t get their faces out of her mind. She didn’t realise tears were streaming down her cheeks until the shower cut off in the bathroom and she reflexively wiped them away.
“Dinner’s here!” Percy remarked as he walked out of the bathroom. “Butter us some bread while I get dressed, my dear, and then we can see what’s on the telly.”
Dot rinsed the cups in the sink before Percy could notice anything amiss. She wouldn’t tell him about her conversation with their captor. She wouldn’t tell him about the look she’d seen in the boy’s eyes.
