HER FINAL WORD (JACK RYDER Book 6)

by Willow Rose

  Carla was bent over the stove, making her famous Bandeja Paisa that The White Lady loved so much. She froze as she came up behind her and asked the question. The girl was sitting in the corner when it happened. Her heart sank when she saw how Carla winced.

  "I said, where is she?" The White Lady repeated. She was wearing a completely white dress, as usual, and a white scarf around her head to cover her hair so the sun wouldn't ruin it. The White Lady loved her hair and went to the hairdresser many times a month to make sure it was always perfect. The girl didn't quite understand why she insisted on covering it up when she spent so much money making it beautiful, but then again, there was so much she didn't quite grasp about her.

  When Carla didn't answer, The White Lady grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her till she faced her. Carla stood with her head bent when the slap fell, then another, and then another. The girl saw it happen and shrieked from her corner.

  "Where is she, stupid girl? Where is she?" the lady continued, still hitting Carla till she fell to her knees, her ear bleeding.

  The girl stood to her feet, staring at them with eyes wide.

  "Did she run away, huh? Did she?"

  Carla whimpered and held a hand to her head, expecting another blow to fall from The White Lady's strong hands.

  "Did she run?" she asked again, almost yelling this time.

  Finally, Carla nodded.

  The answer didn't please The White Lady, and she grabbed the cheese grater lying on the counter next to her, then grabbed Carla's arm and started to grate her skin.

  "Where did she go? Tell me; where did she go?" The White Lady asked while peeling the skin off Carla's arm. Carla let out a deep ear-piercing scream and pleaded with her to stop.

  "I don't know," she yelled. "I don't know where she went."

  "You're lying, you little rat. You're lying," The White Lady growled, then continued to grate her arm.

  The girl lunged forward, screaming for her to stop. "She doesn’t know. She's telling the truth!"

  The White Lady stopped, then turned to look at the girl, her eyes ablaze. "So, you knew about this too, did you?" She let go of Carla's bloody arm and walked toward the girl, pointing the grater at her. Pieces of Carla's skin fell to the floor.

  "You knew about this, and you didn't come and tell me. I’m very disappointed with you, my child. I am very disappointed indeed."

  The White Lady then grabbed the girl and pulled up her shirt. She held the screaming girl down while beating her back with the grater. She didn't let go till the girl became limp in her hand, then fell to the ground, bleeding and unconscious.

  23

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  "You found blood on the floor?"

  Commissioner Maycock's brown eyes looked down at me. Standing up, he was about five inches taller than me, and he had broad shoulders. He was a big guy, almost as big as my former colleague, Mike Wagner, who had been six-foot-eight.

  Thinking about him made me feel a chill go down my spine. I realized I wasn't really ready to be working again. This was supposed to be a time of vacation and relaxation. Those were Weasel's orders back home when I left.

  "Promise me you'll come back rested," she had said.

  The way things were going, that wasn't going to happen. I had been with the Bahamian police all day searching for the girl, and now I was telling the commissioner about my findings in the restroom and showing him the pictures of the blood on my phone.

  "Yes. There were small drops of blood and scratches on the inside of the door. The door was also pulled almost off its hinges like someone had clung onto it while being dragged out. And then I found the purse in the trash can by the sink."

  "And now you want me to do what?"

  "Seal off the restroom. I told your officers to do it after I was in there, but they said it wasn't possible. Then they had us driving all over town and looking for Nancy Elkington when there could be valuable evidence going missing inside that restroom. It needs to be sealed off and everything secured by your crime scene techs."

  The commissioner looked at me skeptically. "Because of a little blood?"

  "And the scratches and the purse," I added.

  Commissioner Maycock shook his head, grinning.

  "What's so funny?" I asked, getting annoyed with his obvious indifference.

  "Girls," he said. "They have their…you know. Blood. Sometimes it drips…on the floor."

  Oh, dear God, the man is an idiot.

  I felt like screaming, but held it back, trying to behave myself.

  "Listen to me. You need to seal off the restroom. Something happened to Nancy Elkington in there. I see all the signs of a crime. She's an American citizen. If this reaches the mainland, you're in trouble; your tourism is in trouble. If she turns up dead on your watch, then no Americans will ever come here again. This would be the second time a young girl died here, a young American girl died here, within seven months. Even if the two deaths aren't related, you know very well how it will look to the Americans. They won't feel safe here anymore. No one listens more to fear than Americans. If you can't guarantee their safety, they won't come back. Do you understand what we're looking at here? Do you understand what is at stake? The media will gobble it up and then it's over."

  I was laying it on thick, but I got the feeling that was the only language he would understand. And I could tell by the change in his expression that he was getting there.

  "Yes," he simply said.

  "All right. I need you to seal off that restroom before more people walk all over the evidence. Evidence we can use to solve this case and maybe make you look like you actually know what you're doing, okay?"

  The commissioner nodded seriously. "Yes."

  "Good."

  "Tomorrow," he added.

  "Excuse me?"

  He looked at the clock behind me, nodding and smiling. "We will seal off the restroom tomorrow. It’s five o'clock now."

  I stared at him, then shook my head. Without saying anything else to him, I walked to the front desk and asked for some police tape. Then, as soon she handed me some, I left for the Straw Market where I sealed the darn door off myself.

  24

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  Emily was lying on the bed watching Netflix on her computer when I entered the hotel room. She didn't take off her headset as I came in and sat down next to her. I leaned over and kissed her forehead. When she still didn't react, I leaned over and pressed the spacebar on the keyboard to stop the video.

  "It was just getting to the good part," she moaned and looked up at me.

  "Hello to you too," I said. "How was your day?"

  She sat up and took off her headset. "I got some research done. Did you find the girl?"

  I shook my head. "I’m afraid not."

  "And what about the parents? Isn't the ship leaving tonight?" she asked.

  "Yes. They got off and are staying at a hotel downtown not far from here. The two friends that they brought went back with the ship."

  "Yikes. That’s gotta be tough."

  I exhaled. "I know. I told them to be hopeful but also prepare themselves that something had probably happened to her, that now all we can do is hope to find her alive. Seeing that look in their eyes as I said the words broke my heart. I couldn't wait to come back to you and count myself lucky that I still have you. So…what did you accomplish?"

  She turned the screen so that I could see. "I found lots of stuff about Ella Maria Chauncey."

  I nodded. "I didn't have much time to go through the autopsy report, but I had a few minutes this afternoon after everyone left the police station. You wanna compare notes?"

  She smiled and nodded.

  "You go first," I said.

  "Okay, so what I know is that Ella Maria Chauncey had snuck out on the night she was killed. Her parents didn't know she was gone. She went to see her boyfriend, Henry Sakislov, whom her parents didn't want her to be with because of some dispute between the parents
. The father, Henry's father, is one of the new rich Russian oligarchs and a partying playboy, the type the rest of the neighborhood doesn't care for. Nevertheless, he owns the biggest mansion in the gated community, and they even named the point after him."

  "That's really good, Em," I said, very impressed. "What else have you got?"

  "Henry took her boating that night with two other friends and afterward she walked home alone. According to Henry's testimony, Ella didn't want him to escort her home since she was afraid someone would see them together. He said she told him she felt safe enough to go home alone since it was a gated community. Those were the final words she said to him before she left his house. He is the last one to have seen her alive, except for the killer, of course."

  I nodded. "So, he must naturally have been a main suspect, right?"

  "That's what's strange," Emily said. "There are no records of him being arrested or even of him being a suspect in any of the newspapers."

  "That sure is strange. You're right about that. That doesn’t mean he wasn't a suspect at some point, though, just that they didn't say it in public," I said.

  "Okay, my turn. According to the autopsy report, Ella Maria Chauncey was found floating in the family's pool at six o'clock the next morning by one of the maids, Sofia Rojas. The cause of death was asphyxiation, that is suffocation."

  "I know what asphyxiation means," Emily said, annoyed.

  "Time of death isn't very definite, but somewhere between midnight—when she left Henry's house—and six the next morning, when she was found. And there was another thing…"

  I looked up, and my eyes met Emily's. She nodded to let me know she was listening.

  "Her tongue was cut out."

  25

  Bahamas, October 2018

  Nancy felt her bruises. She was still in severe pain from the beating she had received. The person hadn't shown up since, for which she was very grateful. She still didn't know how this person managed to get in and out of this strange room since she had been unconscious when the person left. Maybe it was purposefully.

  Nancy sat up on the couch, touching her sore lip. Her mouth felt so dry, and she rose to her feet. There were bottles of water in a fridge leaning against the wall, and she grabbed one; she let it touch her swollen eye for a second to cool it down before she opened it and drank greedily.

  I just want to go home. Will I ever see my mom and dad again? Will I ever see Billy again?

  Nancy exhaled and looked around the room with her one good eye with which she could actually see. She ran a hand across the natural stone wall, seeing if there was anything indicating that there was a door somewhere when the tip of her fingers touched an edge of some sort.

  Nancy stopped and looked at it more closely. Yes, there was definitely an edge there, like a crack in the wall going all the way to the ceiling. And there was one on the other side too. Nancy shrieked joyfully.

  If there's a door, there's a way to open it too.

  Frantically, Nancy let her fingers touch the stones on the wall, pressing them down first, then trying to pull them one after another. She had seen a wall like this before online in some video and remembered how they pressed one of the stones behind it to make it open. If only she could…if only she could…find it.

  Nancy pressed and pulled each and every stone she could find and, as she reached up and pressed one a little above her head, something happened, something unexpected. There was a noise coming from inside the wall, like a clank, and then it started to move.

  Nancy could hardly breathe as the door slowly slid open. She stared at it, barely able to wait for it to open properly. She could see the light coming from outside, the real light, sunlight. She was certain she could even smell the outside, the flowers and trees. She told herself that in a few seconds she would be running outside again, breathing in the fresh air, looking at the blue sky, feeling the sun on her face along with the moist Bahamian air. She couldn't wait to get off this island. As soon as she got away, she'd have to find her parents, and then they'd be going home.

  Home, where Billy would be waiting for her.

  Oh, Billy, I’m coming home now; I’m coming home!

  But as the door opened fully and the light was revealed, something—or someone—else was too.

  Nancy gasped and stepped backward. The person smiled, holding a big butcher's knife in their right hand while wearing a white apron.

  "So, you found the door. I guess I should have known you would."

  The person reached over and slammed a fist into her face, causing Nancy to stumble backward. The blow hit her nose so hard she heard it crack. As she lifted her head again and wiped off the blood, she saw the door slowly close and all her hope disappear with it.

  "Please," she begged. "I just want to go home. Please. What do you want from me?"

  The person grabbed her and forced her to the ground. Nancy then felt the cold tiles against her face and a knee in her back as she was held down. Nancy fought to get loose, but the person on top of her was heavy and strong and managed to hold her down. She couldn't see the big knife, but she knew it was there and it terrified her more than anything. What was the person's intentions with the knife? She was turned around, and they were now face to face. The person was holding the knife to her throat.

  "I want your final word."

  Not understanding anything, Nancy only whimpered while fighting to get loose, the blade of the knife cutting into the skin on her throat.

  "Just one little word," the person said again, pressing her down. "Your final. What do you want the world to know about your final hour?"

  Mostly whimpering sounds emerged from her throat, but eventually, she managed to press out something that sounded like a word, while she locked eyes with her perpetrator. The terror of seeing nothing but hatred in the eyes of the one about to kill her made her scream it.

  The person then pressed a set of brutal fingers into her mouth. The fingers searched inside her for a few seconds, then grabbed her tongue and pulled it forcefully out between her lips before slicing the knife through it.

  26

  Bahamas, October 2018

  The figure watched the girl die. She squirmed on the floor, and the person made sure to keep her on her back. That way she would drown in her own blood. The person watched the blood gush out of the mouth and left the girl on the floor till she didn't move anymore, watching it all happen with great satisfaction. The person liked seeing them die and was fascinated about how different it was each time, yet how alike their bodies still acted.

  But that wasn't the person's favorite part of it all. Seeing them die was one thing, and it was satisfying, yes, but the person was more in it for the chase. As soon as they were dead, the person already started thinking about finding a new one.

  And it was like the demand became bigger and bigger each day.

  As the girl slowly died on the floor of the person's secret room, thoughts of a new girl had already started to grow. But first, there was the matter of her final word.

  The person left for a second, then came back with a bag and put it down. The person then pulled out a set of pens, needles, and ink before grabbing the girl and turning her around, undressing her, ripping her clothes off with gloved hands. The person searched the body for a perfect spot and soon found one.

  Right on the lower part of the back where the skin was all soft and smooth.

  27

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  "I just don't understand why she would confess to having killed Ella Maria Chauncey if she didn't do it," I said.

  Emily nodded. "That's been my issue as well."

  "And why wouldn't she talk to us when we visited her?"

  "Maybe she was terrified?" Emily said, snapping her fingers. "What if someone told her to confess or they would kill her or, even better, they would kill Sydney?"

  I stared at my daughter, quite surprised. "Wow. That's actually not a bad theory. You're amazing me, Em."

  She smiled.
"I like this. This is fun." She paused. "Not that I find murder or anything about it fun; that's not what I meant…but...doing this. With you."

  I reached over and put my hand on her shoulder, feeling all kinds of mushy. It was a strange thing to be bonding over, but we were doing just that, and it made me so happy.

  "I know exactly what you meant. It is not something you can easily explain to people, but I find great satisfaction in doing detective work. Why else would I be one?"

  She nodded pensively. "True."

  "So, what do you suggest we do next?" I asked.

  She looked at the screen, then back at me. "I think we should pay that Henry dude a visit."

  I chuckled. "Okay. That sounds like a very good way to go. Question that Henry dude. Let's do that…tomorrow. Now, I say we go down to the restaurant and get something to eat."

  I stood up, but as I looked at Emily, I suddenly realized the excited look in her eyes was gone, and she was back to being that apathetic old self.

  "Emily?"

  She shook her head, and her eyes avoided mine. "I'll…I'll stay here."

  "No, you won't. You're coming with me to the restaurant, and you'll eat. We had a deal, remember? I help Sofia, and you eat."

  She shrugged. "Yeah, well, maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all."

  "What are you talking about? You were just telling me how you enjoyed this? And we might end up helping one of your relatives get out of pure hell; how is that not a good idea?"

  She sighed and grabbed her headphones but didn't put them on yet.

  "Em, don't put those headphones on; I swear, Em, I…you promised me you'd eat, dang it."

  Emily looked down at her stomach. "Yeah, well…I…don't want to."

  "You don't want to…what the heck, Emily? What's going on? Where is that sweet girl I was just bonding with a few seconds ago?"

  Emily answered with a shrug. I saw her glance briefly at her suitcase and walked to open the lid before she could stop me. Just as suspected, I found her scale inside of it. I grabbed it and held it out toward her.