Butterfly Girl

by Rona Jameson

  “Listen,” I whisper, looking between the three girls. “I don’t think we’re at sea. I think he said that to scare us into staying where we are.” I swallow. “The moment we get the chance, we have to get out of here. We have to.”

  “I agree with Wren. I’m not staying here for them to do whatever they want with me,” Pen says, sounding stronger than before. “Jessica, you’ll come too.”

  “Yes.”

  We turn to Maria, and I softly say, “You stay with me, okay?”

  The girl shakes her head. “My father will give them what they want, then I will go home. I will be safe.”

  “Don’t be stupid.” Jessica scoffs. “No matter what, they will not give you back. You’ve seen them. You will recognize them again. I’ve seen the movies. They will kill you.”

  I couldn’t have said it better myself, except I think it’s made Maria worse than before. The girl moves to the corner we’d been in and silently curls up into herself. I sigh and glance back at the other two girls. “We can’t stay.”

  “I know.” Tears come into Jessica’s eyes. “I will listen to my mom from now on if I get the chance.”

  “Me too.” Pen wraps her friend in her arms, and they cry.

  I wiggle to the side of the door and rest with my back against it, listening for sound. I can still hear the faint laughter of children, but nothing else. No footfalls as people move around the boat. I still as I hear a faint sound coming from the other side of the door, as though something metal is scraping against it. It’s really soft and I’m not sure whether or not I’m imagining it. Then I see it, a shiny silver key on the floor beside me. Someone has slipped it underneath the door.

  Is there someone on the boat who wants to help us?

  I quickly retrieve the key and say, “Stand up,” with a new urgency in my voice. “Stand up, now,” I hiss. “We can’t wait.”

  The girls look baffled, but do as I say, even Maria huddled in the corner. When I have all their eyes on me, I cover my mouth with a finger and show them the key. Eyes widen. Gasps of hope and surprise fill the room, which I quickly hush.

  My heart feels like it’s about to pound out of my chest, and the fact that I still want to throw up because I’m on water is not helping. I want to be off this boat for more than one reason.

  “No matter what happens, we have to stay together and not make a sound. Take your shoes off.” I kick mine off and pick them up. After seconds of hesitating the girls do the same. “Our getting off this boat depends on us being quiet. Do you understand? Maria, do you?”

  “I’m scared, not stupid.”

  I smile at her reply, and I’m no longer worried about her letting us down, which had been at the back of my mind.

  As quietly as I can, I slip the key into the lock and turn it before gently turning the handle. Fear gnaws away at me and I hope I’m not doing the wrong thing by trying to get us off this boat. For a brief second, before I pull the door open, I wonder if it’s just a sick trap. That Ezequiel is standing there, laughing at our pitiful attempt to escape. I shake the thought from my head.

  No sound can be heard other than the birds and the children playing, so we slowly creep out of the room and along the small hallway until we reach a set of stairs. I don’t know anything about big boats as I’ve only ever been on a small fishing boat. This one, however, is huge and I guess a yacht rather than a boat.

  There is still no sound as we move slowly up the stairs to the next level and make our way to the front of the boat. I get a look at the city skyline, but I don’t recognize it. It is largely built up and there is nothing to give me a clue as to where we are. Nevertheless, we need to be quick and get off the boat before we’re discovered.

  As we round the corner, I spot the man Silas had recognized. He’s standing close to the exit with his back toward us. I quickly stop and turning, shove the girls back around the side to safety. “Stay here,” I whisper.

  I don’t know what to do. His large form is blocking the platform to the wooden dock. There is no other way off this boat unless the girls jump overboard and swim. I peep around the corner and the man is gone. Doesn’t mean he’s not close by.

  No longer knowing what to, I decide to go for it. I’ll make sure they get down the platform first so that if anyone is captured it will be me. He wants me alive, or so he said.

  Indicating for the girls to follow, we creep down the side of the boat and I peer around the exit to make sure the coast is clear. It is. “Stay together,” I whisper, shoving them forward.

  They run down the platform and, not hearing another sound, I follow them. The moment my feet hit the narrow wooden dock that stretches out into the water, incredible pain shoots up my legs—the sun has heated the ground. I quickly stop and slip my shoes on. At least I brought them with me. Ready to run, I turn back to the boat at the last minute and meet the eyes of the man in the suit—Special Agent Ken James. Marcel and Rafael’s friend. The man points in the opposite direction to which we are about to head, causing me to pause in my step.

  He looks off in a different direction, and points again and mouths, “That way.”

  I don’t know whether to trust him or not, but the choice is taken away when a fancy car pulls up at the other end.

  “This way,” I say to the girls, and we head the way Ken told us to go. I’m confused as to why he is helping and wonder whether he gave us the key.

  Halfway down the dock, another pier snakes out with various sized boats lined up tied to the cleats. I used to be the one to tie the nylon rope to the cleat back in Port Michael when I was forced to go fishing with the Reverend.

  What we must look like running along, I don’t know, but no one stops us, or offers help, or anything. The rich people and their guests just stare. Taking the next right, I finally see land ahead.

  Maria whimpers at how close we are, and we all pick up speed and run past the fancy shops at the entrance of the marina.

  Stopping to catch our breath, Pen indicates to follow her into the shadow between two gift shops. “We’re in Houston.”

  “How do you know?” I ask. “Are you from here?”

  “Nebraska.” She points. “Over there, it says, Hilton Houston NASA.”

  “We need to go to the police,” Jessica says. “We need help.”

  I totally agree, but knowing that Ken is a DEA agent, doesn’t fill me with confidence about asking the police for help.

  “We have to get further away from here before they realize we are missing.” I look around. “Let’s walk this way. Maybe they will think we went to the hotel for help.”

  “Why don’t we go inside a shop?” Jessica asks.

  “I don’t trust them not to call the wrong people,” I admit, wishing I knew Marcel’s or Rafael’s phone numbers to call for help.

  Moving out from the shade, we start heading away from the marina, but I can’t relax, even being off that boat. I keep looking around us to make sure no one is following.

  There are people around, some in hospital scrubs, which makes me think there is a hospital nearby. I soon discover there is when Maria goes down to the pavement.

  I don’t even know what happened. One moment she was walking with us and the next she dropped like dead weight to the ground. I hover over her, trying to shake her awake. Nothing. No response.

  “I’m a nurse, let me see her.” One of the people I spotted in scrubs is now kneeled on the ground on the opposite side of me, checking Maria over. “She is dehydrated.” The woman lifts her head and looks us three over. “What happened to you?”

  Pen starts crying, and Jessica says, “Please help us. We’ve been kidnapped and managed to get off the boat. We need help. Please.” She grabs the woman’s hands.

  “My name is Angela.” She pulls a cell phone from her pocket. “My brother is a cop. I’ll call him. He’ll know what to do—who to contact.” She glances back to Maria, who is coming around slowly. “First, we need to get you to the hospital.” She dials a number and says a f
ew words, and then she’s making another call to whom I presume is her brother. By the time she finishes, an ambulance with no sirens on pulls up beside us.

  She smiles. “I asked them to keep the sirens off so that if others are looking for you the noise wouldn’t attract attention.” I look at her warily, but she smiles. “I promise you are in no danger from me or my brother. I promise.”

  “Papá,” Maria whispers. “I want to talk to him.”

  “Do you know his number?” Angela asks.

  “Sí.”

  “You call him while we go to the hospital. We are really close to where I work. Clear Lake Hospital.” Angela gives Maria her phone, and the girl dials as she’s lifted into the ambulance. “Papá! La niña me salvo. Por favor ven a buscarme a Houston.” The girl saved me. Please come for me in Houston. She pauses. “Sí. Te amo, Papá.” Yes. I love you, Dad. Maria passes the phone to Angela, who relays his daughter’s condition and where they are taking us.

  “My brother will be here soon,” Angela says as we arrive a few moments later. “I want you all to stay together, okay? Would anyone else like to make a call?”

  Pen and Jessica both nod and decide to call Jessica’s mom as she always answers her phone apparently. Angela looks to me. “Don’t you have anyone to call?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t have the number for them.” I frown and try to remember. “Are you able to find the number for the DEA office in Corpus Christi? I think Jeremiah might have worked from that office. I’m not really sure and I only know his first name. Or maybe someone knows how I can call Marcel DeLacroix. He lives in Port Michael.”

  Angela reaches out and rests a hand on my shoulder. “My brother will find him. Please trust us. I can see by the look in your eyes you have been through a lot. I want to help you and your friends, okay? Before my brother gets here, let me examine you and take more details.”

  I glance around the emergency room before I’m ushered into an exam area and asked to put on a green paper gown. Angela smiles.

  “I will give you some privacy. I’ll be on the other side of the curtain with Maria. The other two girls are on the other side of you.”

  Nodding in acceptance, I woodenly move to the only place to sit, the bed. I don’t change, but I do climb onto it and lay my head down. I’m so tired and just want Rafael.

  47

  RAFAEL

  “SHE’S BEEN FOUND.” Jeremiah ends his call and turns to look at me in the back of his agency issued SUV. “She’s okay, Rafael. She’s at Clear Lake Hospital, close to the marina where the yacht is moored.”

  I blink a few times while trying to take in what he is telling me. “She’s really okay?”

  “A few bumps, but yes. They looked her over and she’s fine. She’s asking for you.” He turns more in his seat as Dad continues to drive.

  Jeremiah had wanted to view the satellite footage of the area as we headed up to Houston, so he had Dad drive. Silas comes awake as Jeremiah talks. He had been worse than the three of us put together after spending most of the night underground.

  Jeremiah casts him a glance and says, “Not only do they have Wren, but they have Maria Suarez, and the two girls you saw in the cell. Penelope Greenwood and Jessica Dawson. They had been put together on the boat. According to a statement Wren gave to the police, they only got free because Ken James had helped them. He slipped Wren the key to the room and turned the other way when they left.” He pauses. “They were about to head in the wrong direction, and he directed them away. I don’t know what the hell he is up to, but he saved them.”

  “Have they arrested Ken?” Silas asks, contemplating something.

  “The coast guard is currently trying to box the yacht in as it races toward international waters.” He grins. “They’ll get them. Security cameras from the marina show men in suits boarding the yacht as the girls ran in the opposite direction. We have no idea whether or not Ezequiel was one of those men.”

  “This is nearly over. The Reverend is dead, so is Wild. The coast guard will get the others,” I say in relief.

  “It’s not over until everyone is behind bars. Don’t tempt fate by saying otherwise.” Silas’s words are sharp before he relaxes back against the seat. His ease is not fooling me—he’s anything but.

  “They’ll need someone to verify Ezequiel is one of the men on board,” Jeremiah continues. “The drugs were found in the computers beneath the church. Interpol NCB has Ezequiel’s shipment under tight lock and key in Mexico. No one is getting their hands on that. A lot of precautions have been taken to secure the packages. But we’ve put a huge hole in the network. My contact in Hidalgo on the Texas/Mexico border said there has been a lot of movement in and around the town in the past few days. McAllen especially. People have been getting worried.” Jeremiah smiles. “I’m taking a vacation tomorrow.”

  “Ha! I’ll believe that when I see it.” Dad chuckles.

  I try to follow Silas and relax now that I know Wren is safe, but I can’t because I want to be with her, and the drive is taking too long. Dad catches my eye as he glances through the rearview mirror. He knows me well.

  “She’s living with us from now on, Dad,” I say as I stare out of the window. “The moment I have her in my arms, I’m not letting her go.”

  “I know, son,” he whispers, a smile in his voice. “That’s how I felt about your mother. Wren’s mom.”

  He pulls in front of the hospital entrance and Silas immediately exits. “I need to walk.”

  I frown and watch him walk toward the ocean as Dad grabs my attention by turning in his seat. “No matter what happens, Rafael, it doesn’t change the fact that Sarah loved you too. Don’t ever forget that.”

  I close my eyes willing the tears not to fall. The past twenty-four hours have been hell not knowing where Wren was. I haven’t slept and I couldn’t say what I’ve eaten. Dad shoved food into my hands, and I ate it. Swallowing hard, I climb out of the car and Dad follows.

  The heat hits me in the face while I wait for Dad to finish talking with Jeremiah, who drives off seconds later. I’m impatient to find my girl and see for myself that she really is okay.

  The moment we step inside, the smell hits my nose and my stomach rolls with nerves. I glance around nervously while waiting for Dad to get Wren’s room number.

  He has it and indicates with a nod of his head toward the elevator. “She’s on the third floor.”

  The ride up in the elevator is quiet until we step out onto Wren’s floor. The nurses’ station is busy with nurses and doctors reading charts, entering information in the computer, and work chatter. A large whiteboard attached to the pale blue wall is filled with rooms and patient information. It’s easy to read at a glance.

  Next to Wren’s room number are the initials: SJJ. I frown, and Dad says, “Sarah Joy Jacobs—clever.”

  We glance around and it worries me that no one looks our way as we move past and down the hallway to Wren’s room. We round the hallway and see three police officers standing in front of doorways. Wren is behind one of them, except there is no one in front of Wren’s room. Room 348.

  As we approach, the cops place a hand on their weapons and watch us warily. Dad moves in front of me and holds out his hand. “I’m Special Agent Marcel DeLacroix, DEA. This is my son. His girlfriend is in room 348.”

  “We were told to let you both in when you arrived,” the cop opposite Wren’s room says.

  I move toward her door, but stop when another cop says, “They’ve just taken her down to radiology. But you can wait in the room if you want.”

  Disappointment fills me as I shove into the room. I want to tear the place apart and look for her as I rest my hands on the windowsill and look outside. The room has an amazing view of the marina. I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing through my frustration. I just want Wren, dammit.

  “Something is wrong,” Dad whispers. “Look.” He points toward the metal IV stand with a saline bag attached, the wires hanging freely. “It wasn’t switch
ed off before it was removed. There is a growing pool of saline on the floor.”

  I blink a few times and nothing else seems out of the ordinary. “Maybe they forgot.” I shrug as tension fills my body, but I know he’s right, something is wrong.

  “I don’t think so. The monitoring wires from the machines have been left dangling on this side, along with the finger clip for checking a patient’s pulse. Fuck!” Dad yanks the door open, and says in a tight and controlled voice, “Who took Miss Jacobs out of this room?”

  I’m close behind Dad and notice the cop’s eyes grow with suspicion. “An orderly. He had the correct ID badge. I checked. Officer Zander went down with them?”

  “Call him, now!”

  “Dad?” I whisper. “Please tell me you don’t believe someone has taken her?”

  Dad turns and meets my gaze and I know his answer before he opens his mouth. “That room would not have been left that way if a member of the medical staff had taken her down to radiology. I also think the IV would have gone with her.”

  “Which way did they go and how long ago?” I quickly ask.

  “They headed toward the back of the hospital.” He points. “They took the surgical elevators. Just before you arrived.”

  I don’t hear what Dad says, as I take off running in the direction pointed out to us. The hallway is darker this way, with much dimmer lighting. My legs eat up the distance and then I’m sliding to a stop in front of the surgical elevator. The numbered lighting on the panel beside the door slowly creeps downward, until it stops on B. I quickly glance at the floor guide on the wall: B is the emergency surgical unit, and the fucking morgue. I jab at the call button and get impatient when the floor number doesn’t move.

  Maybe the doors have been blocked from closing!

  My heart pounds and blood rushes through my ears. Can I actually be lucky enough to follow the elevator to that floor and find Wren. They have a head start on me, but while I’m thinking about what the fuck to do, the elevator lights up on one.