Jack Ryder Mystery Series: Vol 4-6

by Willow Rose

  Chapter 30

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  It was my luck that I wasn't going very fast. As soon as the car came to a halt, I jumped out and ran to the boy lying in the street. My heart was pounding in my chest as I prayed to God that he wasn't dead.

  Please let him be all right.

  When I saw that he was moving and heard him moan, I felt a wave of relief rush through my body. I knelt next to him as he lay on the side of the road.

  "Are you okay, kid?"

  The boy looked at me. I scanned his body quickly for any blood gushing out, in case an artery had burst somewhere or if he had been badly hurt somehow but found none. A few scrapes on his arms were bleeding, but that was all.

  "Can you sit up?" I asked.

  He nodded, then rose his torso to an upright position. He felt his side, and I realized that was where I had hit him. Probably bruised a few ribs, maybe even broke them. The boy lifted his shirt, and he had a bad bruise there. I grimaced, my stomach in a thousand knots.

  "I am so, so sorry," I said and helped him up on his feet. "I am so sorry. I feel awful."

  "I'm okay," the boy said with a strained look to his face.

  "No, let me take you to the hospital," I said. "We need to make sure nothing is broken. You could have some bleeding in places we can't see. I don't want to risk…"

  The boy shook his head. "No. No hospital."

  "No hospital? But…you really should go…You took quite the blow there; there's no telling what might have been damaged…"

  He shook his head again.

  "No."

  I sighed, then looked behind him as I spotted a flock of birds, black vultures circling the bushy area behind him. Their presence had my attention immediately, and I felt a chill go down my spine.

  Something dead was in there behind those bushes.

  Was that why the boy was running? Did he see something?

  I turned to ask him for answers but found nothing but the empty road behind me. I checked my surroundings a few times to see if I could find him, but he was gone.

  Dang it.

  Curious to see what the birds were so interested in, I pressed through the thick bushes and, as I walked closer, I realized the stench of death was all around me. In this heat, the smell was overwhelming and almost suffocating. I stopped when I reached water and wild growing mangrove. Lying beneath the mangroves, stuck in the roots, was the body of a young woman. She was naked and looked peaceful as she lay there in the mushy water. It was hard to recognize her features in the bruised and swollen face, but the long blonde hair floating in the water gave her identity away.

  It had to be Nancy Elkington.

  Chapter 31

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  "You say he just took off? I don't understand."

  Commissioner Maycock gave me a look. It was the third time he had asked about the boy, and he was beginning to sound like he didn't quite believe he even existed.

  "Yes," I said and looked in the direction I had last seen the boy. We were standing on the side of the road. They had blocked the area off while searching it and securing the body from the water. "I ran into him with my car, and I told him I would take him to the hospital, but he didn't want to go."

  "Have you been drinking?" Maycock asked.

  I sighed. "No, for the fourth time, I didn't drink anything. I was upset because I had a fight with my daughter. Listen, I am tired, can I please go back now?"

  "So you can leave the country?" he asked.

  Now it was my turn to give the man a puzzled look. "You're accusing me of something here?"

  "How did you know the body was in there?" Maycock asked, not answering my question.

  I felt like screaming but held it back. "I told you. There was a boy…"

  "And that boy conveniently just vanished into thin air," Maycock interrupted me.

  "You're kidding me. You think I’m lying?"

  "I think you have a very good cover, Mr. Ryder, being a detective on vacation, and I also think you're very clever."

  I sighed and rubbed my forehead. "There was a boy. I am not making this up."

  "Americans like to come here and cause lots of trouble, thinking they can get away with it. The fact is, Mr. Ryder, we don't know anything about you, do we? We don't know why you are really here. We allowed you to read the autopsy, and you got ideas, didn't you? To cut out her tongue the way someone did to Miss Ella Maria Chauncey, am I right?"

  This is a freaking joke; this man is a joke!

  I exhaled. "Are you charging me with anything? Otherwise, I would like to go now. My daughter is alone back at the hotel."

  "If you even have a daughter," he said.

  "Am I under arrest?" I asked.

  "Not yet," Maycock said. "But don't leave the island."

  "You know where to find me," I said and left with an annoyed moan.

  I got into my car and drove back toward the hotel. I had called Emily and told her what happened and that I was going to be back late, but I had never imagined it would be past midnight before I got back to her. I rushed into town and drove through the now-empty small streets, wondering about Nancy Elkington and her poor parents. I couldn't stop thinking about what Maycock had told me.

  Nancy had her tongue cut out just like Ella Maria Chauncey. It had to be the same killer, didn't it? And that meant Emily was right. Sofia was innocent. I hadn't fully believed it earlier, but now I did.

  Chapter 32

  Lyford Cay, Bahamas, October 2018

  Henry Sakislov greeted us in the hallway of his enormous mansion. I thought I had seen it all when visiting the Chauncey's, but this was extreme. It was too much for my taste.

  I had called that morning, asking to meet with him, telling him I was investigating the killing of Ella Maria Chauncey. I hadn't expected him to, but he had agreed to see me. I had also told him to bring his father, but he was out of town.

  Henry was a real looker and had one of those smiles that made the girls fall for him instantaneously. Emily was no different. When he shook her hand, I noticed the nervous tic around her mouth as she tried to smile. I knew her well enough to know that she thought he was cute.

  We sat in the living room, and a woman served us coffee. I knew most Bahamians either worked in the tourist industry taking care of wealthy American tourists or worked for the wealthy Americans who chose to live on the islands, taking care of their every need, whether it was gardening or housekeeping. I didn't like how it sort of reminded me of colonialism, and I especially didn't like for Emily to experience this. I had always made a big deal of her being equal to the rest of us, even though it was hard for her never to experience racism even in Florida. It hadn't happened much in school, but it was the little things. Like how all the black kids sat together at lunch or the teacher only calling on her for easy questions. It didn't take her long to realize she was different, and that broke my heart. Now, I feared she would see it again being in a place where there was a pronounced difference between races.

  "Thank you so much," I said to the woman who served us the coffee, trying hard to make sure that she knew I appreciated her and noticed her. The woman nodded shyly. As she put down the bowl of chocolates, I noticed she winced like she was in pain. I looked at her wrist and noticed it was badly bruised.

  "How did you get that?" I asked.

  She retracted and hid her wrist.

  "She fell," Henry said.

  I turned and looked at him, wondering why he felt compelled to answer for her.

  "Yesterday," he continued. "On the stairs. I wanted to take her to the ER, but she wouldn't hear of it. Most of the Bahamians don't have insurance and can't afford to get treatment. I even told her I would pay for it, but she wouldn't have it. Proud people, the Bahamians."

  The woman gave me another shy look, then nodded politely and left. I kept looking after her as she disappeared, her head bowed.

  "So, you wanted to talk about Ella Maria?" Henry asked, and I turned to
face him, then nodded.

  "Yes, Emily here is related to Sofia Rojas and her daughter Sydney," I said. As I mentioned Sydney's name, Henry blushed, then almost choked on his coffee. He coughed a few times, then forced a smile.

  "Oh, really?"

  "Yes, and to cut to the chase, we believe Sofia is innocent."

  Henry coughed again. "Oh, really? Why so?"

  I leaned forward and looked into the young boy's eyes. "Because the killer just struck again."

  Chapter 33

  Lyford Cay, Bahamas, October 2018

  "Is that so?"

  I was observing Henry as he put the coffee cup down. It wasn't even shaking in his hands. Yet I sensed something was off. He was just good at hiding it.

  "A young girl named Nancy Elkington visiting from a cruise ship was taken a few days ago, and she turned up last night in the water, killed."

  "And just how is that related to what happened to Ella Maria?" he asked.

  "Her tongue was cut out."

  Henry nodded. "I see."

  I leaned back in the chair I was sitting in and sipped from my coffee cup while watching the boy. He didn't seem shocked, but he didn't seem indifferent either. He was very hard to read.

  "And just how might I be able to help?" he asked, sounding very polite and genuine, yet detached.

  "I would like to know more about Ella Maria, and your relationship with the family," I asked.

  "I see. Well, it has never been good between our families, as you might know."

  "So I have heard, yes," I said.

  "Ella's parents didn't want us to see one another because of the feud. But we were young and in love and well…you know. Forbidding us to see one another just makes it that much more interesting, right?"

  "So, you saw each other anyway?" I asked.

  "Of course. Our parents travel a lot and well…they are quite busy with their own lives, and so…it wasn't exactly hard for us. Ella was wild and liked to do things her family didn't approve of."

  "For instance?"

  He shrugged. "Just stuff like going boating and scuba diving at night, drinking, and so on."

  "Why do you think that was? Why do you think she was so wild?" I asked. Henry kept staring at Emily, and I didn't like the look in his eyes. I regretted bringing her.

  He chortled. "Isn't it obvious? They kept her on a tight leash all her life, never let her do anything. You can't do that to a girl like Ella. Or to any girl. At some point, young girls want to fly."

  "And so, you helped her do that?" I said.

  He chuckled. "Ella didn't need any help. She managed fine by herself."

  I nodded. "I see."

  "And the feud between your families, what was that about?"

  Henry snorted. "It really isn't that interesting. It’s a typical feud in wealthy communities like these. We're the newly rich, and we're annoying them, the old rich, because we change things up and do it differently than what they're used to. They have boring stuck up lives. We like to have fun. And when we moved here, my dad bought up a lot of land and built a house bigger than any of theirs."

  "So, you say they're jealous?"

  "You said that; I didn't," he said and sipped his coffee again, smiling endearingly at Emily. "It's all very ridiculous if you ask me. But us kids can't really do anything about it except laugh at them."

  I wrote a couple of notes on my pad, then looked up at him again. "How did the Chaunceys react when they found the body of their daughter?"

  "What do you mean?" he asked.

  "You were the last one to see her alive. Did they, at any point, blame you for it?" I asked.

  Henry chuckled again and nodded. "They sure did. I wasn't even allowed to go to the funeral. Everyone believed it was me."

  "Everyone? But you were never arrested?"

  Henry thought for a second. "Well, no, but that doesn’t mean people don't think you did something. I think a lot of them still think I did it. The school won't even let me come back, and it's been seven months. They're afraid that me being there will cause too much trouble, they say. So, my dad hired private teachers for me. I don't mind; I didn't like the school anyway. But the hatred between our families is worse than ever. I’m sure the Chaunceys still blame me. If not for killing her directly then for luring her out at nighttime or not walking her home properly."

  I rubbed my chin while staring at the young boy, wondering if the police had simply just arrested Sofia to secure peace, to make the rich white people feel safe again, to make sure they didn't leave the island? They didn't dare touch the wealthy white Americans, did they? Of course not. Not even when everyone else thought he had done it. And so, they had thrown themselves at Sofia like wolves on prey. The question was, had she done anything besides find the body floating in the family's pool? Was that the sole reason she was imprisoned? If so, then I was her only hope, and there was no way I was going to simply look the other way.

  "So, did you do it?" I asked, not because I believed he would say yes, but to see his reaction and to at least have asked.

  He shook his head, not seeming surprised by my question.

  "No."

  "Do you have any idea who might have wanted to hurt her?" I asked.

  He shook his head a second time, but I saw something in his eyes that told me he wasn't being completely honest with me.

  I got up and reached out my hand. "Thank you for your time," I said as he took it. "I would like to talk to your father at some point; when will he be home?"

  An expression of hopelessness emerged on Henry's face.

  "I don't know," he said. "He never really tells me where he goes and when he’s coming home."

  I nodded and handed him my card. "Just tell him to give me a call when he gets back, okay?"

  Henry nodded, but I wasn't convinced he was actually going to do it.

  "Sure."

  Chapter 34

  Bahamas, July 1983

  The girl had heard about the shed but never known exactly what it was. Not till Gabrielle was put inside of it did she know.

  It was a small metal garden shed in the part of the yard that no one used, which was covered by the tall palm trees and dense bushes. Gabrielle was placed in there and the door padlocked from the outside.

  The first day that Gabrielle spent in there, the girl didn't dare to go out there, fearing The White Lady would see her and maybe punish her. But as she woke up the next morning and Carla opened her door, she rushed out there before The White Lady woke up.

  At first, she didn't dare to go close and stood far away from the shed, staring at it. She could hear Gabrielle knocking on the metal door and it made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck, even though it was so hot out that she could barely breathe.

  How was Gabrielle breathing in there if she could barely breathe out here? She wondered and took a few steps closer. Gabrielle was still knocking, calling for help, and the girl walked so close she could place a hand on the shed, but she had to pull it back fast because the metal was so hot it burned her hand.

  She sat in the grass while staring at the shed and listening to Gabrielle knocking and crying for help for about an hour before Carla came out to get the girl and pull her back inside. She took her into the kitchen, then knelt in front of her, brushing off the grass from her clothes.

  "You can't go out there," she said.

  "Why can't we let her out?" the girl asked.

  "She's being punished for what she did," Carla said. "It's her own fault. Just be glad it's not you in there."

  "But it’s hot," the girl said. "The metal is burning hot."

  Carla shushed her, then told her to go peel the potatoes and forget everything about it. But she couldn't. It was all the girl could think about all day long as she went about her day, taking care of Dylan, listening in on his private lessons, and washing the sheets that Carla told her to. But she couldn't concentrate on any of her chores. All she could think about was Gabrielle and, as she did the laundry, she could still hear her
screaming. The sounds of her terrifying cries were haunting her.

  Later in the evening when it had gone dark outside, she took the chance and ran into the yard, only to realize that the screaming and knocking had stopped. Heart throbbing in her throat, the girl sat in the grass and stared at the shed in front of her. She heard a noise that, at first, she thought was rats, but soon she realized came from inside the shed. It was a scraping sound, sounding just like when the rats went through the garbage in the big containers in the back. She would often hear them when taking out the trash and she hated it more than any sound in the world.

  As the scraping slowly died out too, she realized she now hated the sound of silence more than that. The girl stared at the shed, then put a hand to it again and scraped on it, wanting to let Gabrielle know she was out there. But there was no answer, no sound coming from inside of it. Crying desperately, the girl then knocked on the shed, hoping Gabrielle would knock back, but she remained silent.

  Eyes filled to the brim with tears, the girl then turned around and ran back inside the house, running as fast as she could without falling, praying she would be able to outrun Gabrielle's ghost that she was certain would come back to haunt her.

  And it did. For years to come, the scraping sound of Gabrielle's nails clawing on the metal door would keep her awake at night, causing her to scream her terror out.

  Chapter 35

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  "What do you make of him?" I asked, looking at Emily. We had stopped to get some lunch on the way back from Lyford Cay and brought it back to the hotel. Emily had ordered a salad with chicken and was eating it, actually enjoying it, if I wasn't much mistaken. I didn't say anything but just watched her eat. Meanwhile, I had a jerked mahi-mahi sandwich that was out of this world.

  "He's definitely lying about something," she said.

  "Do you think he killed her?" I asked.

  Emily exhaled pensively. "That's a hard one. He's very slick. A real womanizer."