HER FINAL WORD (JACK RYDER Book 6)

by Willow Rose

  "I am sorry," I said. "I was so certain."

  "You're off the case," he said. "Done."

  He sounded like I was one of his employees that he had just demoted. I felt compelled to remind him that I was actually here on my vacation and had helped him out on this case of my own free will and because he needed me, but I didn't. Instead, I nodded in agreement.

  "We'll deal with this ourselves," the commissioner continued. "You’ve embarrassed the entire Royal Bahamian Police Force. You’ve harassed a perfectly innocent man."

  "I wouldn't call him perfectly innocent…" I said.

  Maycock lifted his finger to make me stop.

  "You have brought us nothing but trouble. Mr. Sakislov is a very important contributor to our country."

  "Again, I am sor…"

  Commissioner Maycock shook his head.

  "Maybe it would be best if you and your daughter left tomorrow. Go back to your hotel now. I will send for a car to make sure you make it to the airport tomorrow. Good night."

  With those words, the commissioner turned around with a grunt, then walked to his car where one of his officers was holding the door for him. The car shook as he got in, and a second later, they drove off.

  I glanced at Emily. How had I messed this trip up so terribly? I had completely lost track of why we were here originally, and now we were being forced to leave.

  "I ruined everything. I am sorry," I said to her as we walked toward our rental car, the warm evening air embracing us like blankets.

  Emily looked up at me, then wrapped her arm under mine.

  "I'm not," she said.

  65

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  For once, it wasn't only Emily who had no appetite for dinner. As we sat in the hotel restaurant, neither of us touched our food or spoke. It was game night at the hotel, and they were showing a college football game featuring local Bahamian teams.

  Halfway through my conch fries and beer, my phone vibrated in my pocket, and I picked it up. The number on the display was American.

  "Ryder here."

  "Jack, it's Irene."

  "Irene, hi," I said.

  "I have taken a look at the email you sent me."

  Irene was a well-known FBI-profiler who I knew from my days back in Miami. I had worked with her on many occasions when trying to profile a killer. She was the best in her field. I had completely forgotten that I had written to her about the case a few days earlier.

  I sat up straight. "Yes, and?"

  "I've spent all day thinking about it and then, just a few minutes ago, it struck me. The words tattooed on the girls’ bodies. They are your clues. I think they are their final words."

  "Final words?" I asked when something happened in the game, and everyone stood to their feet, cheering. I signaled to Emily that I was going to walk away to hear better, and she nodded to let me know she understood.

  "How did you come to that conclusion?" I added as I found a spot by the hotel pool where I could hear better.

  "It's the first word that gets to me," Irene said.

  "Please?"

  "Yes. It sounds like something you'd say right before you die, right? It fits with the fact that he cuts out their tongues. You know to silence them forever. Anyway, it's just a theory. Something for you to work with."

  "But…" I said. "They don't seem to make sense. The words. What is he trying to say?"

  "As I said, it is just a theory, but…"

  "Yes?"

  "Maybe it's not the killer but the victims that are trying to tell you something," she said. "Listen, it was just a thought. I gotta go now, but let me know how this ends, okay?"

  I hung up and stared at the phone for a few seconds. Could she be right? Were the victims really trying to tell me something? In that case, what? What did the words mean?

  I walked back to Emily.

  "The game ended, and everyone is going home," she said. "I think they won. They all seemed so happy." She studied me as I sat down across the table from her. "What's wrong?"

  I explained to her what the profiler had told me, and she got that pensive look on her face once again.

  "I can understand 'please,'" I said. "And 'panic' even, but what about the others?"

  "Church and Joy?" she asked.

  "Yes. What are they supposed to mean? Is it religious?"

  She stared at me, biting her lip. "I don't think panic is something you'd say right before you die. You might yell help, no, or please, but not panic."

  "Good point," I said and sipped my beer. "Maybe Irene was wrong."

  Emily's eyes were flickering back and forth. I could tell she was thinking about something. She grabbed her phone and began to type. Then she grumbled something and typed something else.

  "What?" I asked. "What are you thinking?"

  Emily smiled and looked up from her phone, then turned it so I could look at the display.

  "I’m thinking that Irene is right. She is so right."

  66

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  "How could I have been this stupid? How could I have been this ignorant? The answer was right in front of me the entire time!"

  I was rushing through downtown Nassau, running every red light I came across.

  "That goes for the both of us," Emily said.

  I gave her a look. My smart daughter.

  "Okay, then we. How did we not see this? I mean, how did we not think about the fact that Church was a high-end English shoe brand of hand-made luxury leather shoes and that Joy by Jean Patou was a perfume worn only by the extremely rich since it costs around six hundred dollars per bottle?"

  "Known as the costliest perfume in the world," Emily added. "And the very perfume I saw in the bathroom at the Chauncey's house when I was there hanging out with Sydney."

  "That combined with the fact that Mrs. Chauncey, aka The White Lady, was so busy finding a scapegoat to take the fall. It always struck me as odd," I said. "I mean, why would she tell Juan to sign a confession? Why would she force Sofia to?"

  "Because she was hiding something," Emily said. "Maybe even covering for someone, probably her husband."

  "I have a feeling we're onto something," I said and drove up to the gate with the big sign saying Lyford Cay.

  I rolled down the window so that the guard could see me. "Hi there, Jason," I said, recognizing him from earlier.

  "We need to get back in, please."

  Jason got up from his chair and approached the window. "No can do, I’m afraid."

  "Excuse me?"

  He shook his head. "I am sorry, Jack. I have strict orders not to let you in again."

  "But…Commissioner Maycock…"

  He shook his head again. "I can't let you in. You've been banned from ever entering Lyford Cay again. Maycock told us this."

  "You're kidding me. I'm a detective. There's a girl…she's in there, and…he'll kill her if you don't let me in."

  "I am sorry," Jason said. "My hands are tied."

  I stared at the man behind the thick glass. I couldn't believe this. Why did this have to happen now? Now that we were so close?

  I sighed and backed out of the entrance area, then left.

  "Where are we going?" Emily asked. "Dad, you gotta help the girl. You've got to get in there."

  "I will," I said and accelerated down the street.

  "How? Maycock won't help you. He wants you gone; you know that. He'll send a car tomorrow to make sure we're going to the airport."

  "It'll all be over by then," I said.

  I followed the large wall enclosing the neighborhood closely, then turned the car down a small trail toward the beach and stopped as we reached the sand.

  Emily looked out the window, then back at me.

  "What are we doing here? There's no one here. How will you save Coraline? Sydney's in that house too; we need to help her, Dad. How will you do that?"

  "I have my ways," I said and got out of the car, then stared at the big ocean in front of
me, where the moonlight was glistening on the surface.

  The ocean.

  My friend and companion through all my life. The big dark blue.

  Once again, you're going to be my savior.

  67

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  The small diving shop was closed, but someone was still in there closing up. I saw the lights, then pulled the doors and knocked when I realized it was locked. The shop was located on the beach in a small wooden shack. I had noticed it before when driving by.

  "Hey," I said, knocking hard on the glass. "Could you please open? I need your help."

  The man looked in my direction. "We are closed, sorry."

  "No, please, this is urgent."

  The man hesitated for a few seconds, then walked to the doors. I placed my badge in the window, so he could see I wasn't someone there to rob him.

  "Police, American."

  He turned the lock and opened the door. "American, huh?"

  I nodded. "Yes. A girl is in danger, and I need some equipment."

  "I can't. It's after closing time; I am sorry," the man said. "Come again tomorrow."

  I pulled out my wallet. "I have money."

  That seemed to do the trick. The guy nodded eagerly as I handed him a couple of hundred-dollar bills and he told me to take whatever I needed.

  "What are you doing, Dad?" Emily said as I approached the tanks and picked up a set of fins.

  "A boat they'll notice even if it is dark out. There are cameras at the docks. If I come in under water, they'll never see me."

  "You can't be serious," she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

  "Oh, I am very serious," I said. "I’m going in."

  She shook her head. "No, not about that. I meant you can't seriously think I'll let you go in alone?"

  I looked up at her. "Oh, no. You're not going with me, you hear me? You stay here and wait for me."

  She grabbed a set of fins and looked at them. "These should fit me. Now, I just need a snorkel and tanks."

  "I am serious, Em. It'll be dangerous. Don't be naïve."

  "I am nineteen years old, Dad; how many times do I have to tell you? You're the one who is naïve if you think you can do this without my help. You're the one who always tells me that two are better than one. I’m not letting you go in there alone, and that's the end of this discussion."

  Seeing the look on her face made me chuckle. She almost looked like my mother. I wasn't happy about bringing her since I feared something bad might happen to her, but at the same time, I couldn't blame her for wanting to go, and I kind of liked that she did want to go. This case was as much hers as it was mine by now. Maybe even more hers than mine. Besides, Emily was a good scuba diver, and I should know since I was there when she took her certificate.

  "You really shouldn't go in the water at this hour," the owner said. "It's dark and shark feeding time."

  I helped Emily find a mask that fit, then put my own gear on before I looked at him.

  "We'll take the chance."

  68

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  I had always heard that diving at night opened a door to a new world of adventures, even when visiting sites you had dived a dozen times before. This was mostly due to the fact that there was a shift in the environment's inhabitants as nocturnal creatures emerged while the familiar fish and ocean life disappeared. It was also due to the fact that the diver's perspective changed at night. During the daytime, divers tend to look at the big picture, seeing whole swaths of reefs and frequently miss many of the smaller things. But at night, the limited visibility narrows your focus.

  I had never been in these waters before, and I had never dived at night either. I didn't tell that to either the man in the shop or Emily. After going over the signals and ways to communicate with one another, I sunk myself into the black waters, Emily following close behind. And that was quite different than what I had previously experienced during my diving trips to the Keys. Very different. The feeling of the darkness surrounding me, enveloping me completely, and the fact that I couldn't see more than a hand’s length ahead of me made it creepier than anticipated.

  I tried my hardest not to show Emily just how anxious I was and continued forward, making sure she was close behind. As we walked out far enough into the water, we began to swim, going as fast as we could, using the flippers to propel us forward. I could hear my own racing heartbeat as we shot through the water.

  Every now and then, I surfaced to see where we were and make sure we stayed close to the shore, which made it less frightening somehow. Not that there wouldn't be bigger fish there, because there were. We saw them swim past us, but often when it was too late to get out of their way. A huge grouper swam right toward me at one point and looked like it wasn't going to divert when I shined my light on it, and then it decided to go above me instead at the last minute.

  I gasped inside my mask, then turned to look at Emily, who had remained calm. She signaled thumbs up, and I responded with one as well.

  Then we continued.

  I was breathing heavily and, as I pushed forward, a school of mutton snappers fled from me. Further ahead, I spotted more snappers and even a lionfish. And, of course, we saw dolphins, a big pod of them. I think I scared them and wondered if they had been asleep when I came by. They took off so fast, stirring up the waters, you'd think there had been hundreds of them when there were probably just ten or so. It was hard to tell in the darkness.

  I surfaced and could now spot Sakislov's huge Inca-inspired resort-style estate just around the point. I knew we had only about half an hour left, maybe less, and dove underwater again to signal Emily. When I shone my light toward her, I noticed she had frozen in place. She was pointing at something behind me. I twirled in the water as fast as I could, and now I saw what she was seeing.

  A great white swimming eerily close to us.

  I let out a shriek, then swam to Emily and signaled for her to stay calm. We watched the shark for a few minutes as it slowly approached us, my heart beating rapidly in my chest.

  I knew that the most important thing was to maintain our composure; it was the key to staying safe. The majority of shark attacks on humans were simply a result of them mistaking you for another animal.

  I knew all of this to be true, but as I watched the big animal approach us and knew it could easily gobble us up, I found it harder than anything in this world to remain calm.

  I wanted to turn around and swim away, screaming.

  I knew that, many times, the sharks would just swim away, uninterested in the diver, that's what I had read, but this one seemed not to have gotten the memo. The shark came up close, a little too close for comfort.

  I could tell Emily was about to lose it. She was squirming and whimpering behind her gear. I stayed in front of her, in case the shark decided to attack; it could take me down instead of her. I just prayed that she wouldn't panic. I knew that erratic movements could get the shark's attention and provoke it. Frozen stiff, I forced myself to breathe slowly.

  Please, just go away. Please, go away.

  The shark came so close I was certain I could have reached out and touched it. I didn't do it, naturally; I didn't move an inch or even blink as it came so close, like it was curious, like a dog wanting to smell us, then suddenly decided against it and took off.

  As fast as it had appeared, the shark was gone. Emily and I both breathed, relived, and, still shaking, we swam the rest of the way, constantly fearing it would be back for us, feeling like it was right behind us, just waiting for the moment to attack.

  Luckily, that was all just in our imagination and, minutes later, we were able to crawl up on the seawall belonging to the Chaunceys’ million-dollar house.

  69

  Bahamas, October 2018

  He was holding the girl down. She was squirming underneath him, making it hard for him to keep her still. She was bleeding from the bruise on her forehead, and blood was being smeared all over
his gloved hands.

  "Fight all you want to, little girl," he groaned while trying to keep her head down, pressing it against the tiles. "It's no use. I will have my way sooner or later anyway."

  Finally, he managed to press her head down and break her feistiness. As she groaned and moaned beneath him, trying to get loose, he leaned all his weight on top of her, pressing down till she became completely still. He had done this so many times before; he knew exactly how it would go. As time passed, she would eventually give up. It was all about breaking them. When the time came, and he was certain she had no more fight in her, he leaned forward and whispered.

  "Now, say your final word for me."

  He waited, but no word left her lips, only deep growling.

  "Come on, girl. Tell me your final word," he said, angrily pulling her head backward so that he could look into her eyes.

  "What will it be?"

  The girl stared at him, her eyes wide, her face strained from being pulled backward. But still, she refused to say anything. Her nostrils were flaring, her teeth gritted, but her lips never parted, and no sound came across them.

  "Tell me!"

  He pulled her hair to bend her head even further backward, and the girl let out a deep groan as he pulled it hard, but there were no words.

  "TELL ME!"

  He was yelling angrily now, but still, the girl didn't comply. She simply refused to tell him her final word. He let go of her hair, and her head fell back down. The girl was sobbing now but didn't use any words.

  Well, this has never happened before.

  He had never thought about the fact that one of them might refuse to speak. They usually always did at some point. They usually ended up yelling it out in despair, probably thinking this meant he would stop torturing them, not realizing that he had only just begun.

  He had to admit, he didn't know what to do.

  He looked at his watch. It was getting late. He had to finish this before morning; otherwise, he'd have to wait another day, and Mama was determined to get them out of there as quickly as possible. He couldn't blame her. The police had gotten a little too close, not the Bahamian police with that idiot Maycock in charge, of course not. But that darn detective from Florida who had come looking for relatives for his daughter. What kind of bad luck was that anyway? To have him come snooping around here? Mama had yelled at him for letting them stay alone in the house while he went golfing, but how could he have known? He didn't exactly present himself as a detective. Besides, Mama was in the house while they were still there and could keep an eye on them and make sure they came nowhere near the basement.