by Willow Rose
"How do I look?" she said, glancing at the person in the mirror behind her. The person came closer and stood right behind her, and she could feel the person's breath on her neck.
"Beautiful," the person said.
Coraline smiled from ear to ear. "I do, don't I?"
"You really do," the person replied.
Coraline made a few kissing faces at herself, then turned to face the person standing behind her, when she felt a sharp prick of a needle biting into her thigh.
Chapter 40
Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018
We ate dinner at the hotel's restaurant, sitting by the pool, surviving through yet another of their famous karaoke nights. I had conch fries—again—and Emily stuck with a salad. Something was very different about the way she approached her food. She didn't push it around on the plate twenty-four times before eating any of it; she didn't arrange it differently like she usually did, probably to make it look like she ate. No, during this meal, she simply sat down and started to eat while her mind seemed to be elsewhere. I gobbled down my conch fries and coconut shrimp and I watched her closely, wondering what was going on in that beautiful head of hers.
I drank from my local beer, Kalik, which was very refreshing in the heat, listening to some guy sing an Adele song completely out of tune. I couldn't even decipher which song it was.
"I bet he has done it before," Emily said through the loud music, pointing at me with her fork.
"Why do you say that?" I asked, biting down on yet another conch fry, crunching loudly.
"Well, we agree he killed Ella Maria too, right? Why should it have started there?" she asked.
I nodded, smiling. I had had the very same thought during the day.
"What if the local authorities simply didn't make the connections?" she continued. "Either because they didn't want to because having a serial killer on the loose is bad for tourism, or because they're not qualified enough to see it, or even look for it."
"Qualified," I repeated laughing. "You're being very diplomatic. I would have used another word, but yours is better."
She ignored me, too deep into her thoughts.
"I’m serious here. A guy like him could have gotten away with this for years without getting caught."
"That is very likely," I said and grabbed the last fry. I had spoken to Shannon earlier, and both she and the kids were doing well. Tyler had flushed Abigail's favorite Monster High doll in the toilet, and she had responded by pulling the leg off of Tyler's favorite teddy bear. But other than that, they were fine, Shannon had promised me. She had sewn the leg back onto the bear and Tyler had said he was sorry for trying to take her doll for a swim. I knew it had to be tough for Shannon, and I felt for her, I really did.
Emily rose to her feet.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"I'm done," she said.
I looked at her plate; she had only eaten half of her salad. It disappointed me, but there was something different with the way she refused to eat this time. It didn't seem like it was because she wanted to lose weight or was even focused on that. There was something else. Something urgent on her heart.
"Well, I’m not," I said and threw out my arms. "I still have my shrimp and half of my beer left."
She didn't even look at me. She just grabbed the keycard and started to walk.
"I'll see you up there."
Chapter 41
Bahamas, July 1983
They carried her body away. The girl watched as they opened the door to the shed and Gabrielle's lifeless body slid out. Her skin was swollen and covered in blisters. The White Lady took one disgusted look at her, then told the girls to get rid of it.
So, they did. Crying and sobbing heavily, Carla grabbed Gabrielle's limp body and, with the help from two other girls, they carried her into the backyard, where the gardener dug a deep hole for them to put her in.
Carla sang a couple of songs, and they cried together, while the girl watched them from a distance, feeling the metallic taste of anger rise in the back of her mouth, tasting like bile.
When they were done, Carla approached the girl, reached out her hand, and the girl took it. They walked in silence back to the kitchen where they continued their chores.
The girl watched Carla as she cried into the flour while baking. She looked up at her, then asked.
"How come the police don’t come?"
Carla shook her head in answer.
"How come they don't arrest The White Lady?" the girl continued.
Carla sniffled. "The police don't care about us."
"Why not?" the girl asked, feeling tears of anger pile up.
"Because we're illegal," Carla said. "We're not allowed to be here."
"B-but she's dead. Gabrielle was killed. The White Lady killed her," the girl said, clenching her jaw.
Carla exhaled. She had her fingers deeply planted inside the dough, and her scarred arms were covered in flour.
"She broke the rules. She ran away and so she was punished. If the police had gotten to her, she would have been killed too. We told her it was too dangerous, and she wouldn't listen. She brought this upon herself, upon us as well."
"But…"
Carla pulled her hands out of the dough, then cleaned them before grabbing the girl by the shoulders. She forced her to look into her eyes.
"You have to let it go, you hear me? All we can do is move on. You are lucky. The White Lady adores you. If you treat her well and follow her rules, then one day you might get a lot of freedom. Like me. She trusts me, which means I get to leave the house from time to time. I get to go into town and run errands. I get to go places because she knows I will always come back. If you behave well, if you show her she can trust you, then one day you might get that too. You might get to have the freedom that I have. A girl like Gabrielle didn't understand that. But you do. I see it in your eyes. The White Lady cares for us. She takes good care of us. We have nowhere else to go."
The girl stared into Carla's eyes and knew at this moment that she loved her. Carla had been like a mother to her through all her life in the house. She was the closest she got to having a parent.
"Do you understand what I am saying?" Carla said. "There are other ways of surviving. Running away is not one of them. You can get plenty of freedom if you just play by the rules, if you play your cards right. Are you listening?"
The girl bit her lip, then nodded.
"Y-yes."
Carla then pulled her into a warm embrace and kissed the top of her head.
"Smart girl."
Chapter 42
Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018
I finished my beer and my shrimp, then walked back up to the hotel room where I found Emily at her computer. She was staring like she was hypnotized by the screen, not even noticing that I had entered.
I turned on the TV, then flipped through a few channels till I felt overwhelmed by my exhaustion and dozed off.
When I woke up a few hours later, the TV was still on, and Emily was still awake.
"Are you never going to sleep again?" I asked and turned off the TV. My eyes felt like I had sand in them.
She looked up and smiled. "I can sleep when I get older…like you."
"Ha-ha. Very funny," I said and sat on her bed. "But I am serious, Em. Staying up night after night isn't healthy."
She looked at me. I saw a spark in her eyes I hadn't seen in a very long time. It overwhelmed me with joy.
"I found something," she said.
I blinked a few times to see better. "What's that?"
"Three cases," she said.
I was suddenly fully awake. "Three?"
She nodded. "Look."
She moved the laptop so that I could better see what she had been working on.
"I didn't even have to hack," she said, smiling. "Nothing illegal. I just found the stories in old online newspapers."
"Details, please," I said.
Emily sent me a smile. "First case I found was from 2010. A
young girl, Laurie Roberts, age twenty-four, was found floating in a pond. She was white just like Ella and Nancy, and…her tongue was cut out."
"And tattoos?"
"The articles don't say anything about tattoos. We'll need to get to the autopsy report to find that out."
"Okay, and what about her origins? Where did she come from?"
"She was American," Emily said. "From California. She was backpacking with a friend when she disappeared. Staying at a hostel in Nassau."
"Any connections to Lyford Cay?" I asked.
"It doesn’t say. But it does say that her friend said she had met a man while they were here and that she was supposed to meet up with him when she disappeared. The authorities never found out who the man was."
"A man, huh? Does it say if he was Bahamian or American?" I asked.
Emily shrugged. "Nope."
"Okay, but it still gives us something. What else have you got?" I asked, taking notes on my pad.
"Second victim I found was in 2013, three years later. Also a young white girl, age nineteen, found by a fisherman in the ocean, tongue cut out. Annie Turner was visiting from Mississippi on her high school graduation trip. She was scheduled to fly home on May 30, 2013, but she never showed up at the airport. She was last seen by her classmates outside of Hard Rock Café in Nassau. They said she was hanging out with a couple of local residents. When the three men were questioned, they said they dropped Annie off at her hotel later that same night, and they had no idea what happened to her afterward."
Emily looked up at me and our eyes locked. "One of the men who was questioned was Mr. Sakislov."
I wrinkled my forehead. "Henry's dad?"
She nodded.
"What a strange coincidence," I said.
"Sure is."
Chapter 43
Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018
"And the third case? You said there were three," I asked. I didn't feel tired at all, even though it was after three o'clock in the morning. This case had just been blown wide open for me.
Emily bit her lip, then nodded.
"Yes. Three years ago, in 2015. Jill Carrigan, age twenty-one, also white, from Arizona was found murdered. She was visiting with a group of college friends on spring break when she disappeared. They were partying downtown, and she met a guy in some bar that she went home with, her friends explained. They never saw her again, and none of them could identify the man, even though they were taken in for a line-up. Jill was found floating in a pool a few days later. Her tongue had been cut out."
"Just like the others," I said. "Whose pool was it?"
"It was at the clubhouse at Lyford Cay."
My eyes grew wide open. "What?"
She nodded.
"Did they have any suspects?" I asked.
"They arrested a man, Juan Garcia, an illegal immigrant who worked as a gardener in Lyford Cay. He confessed to having murdered all three girls. That's probably why the police haven't been talking about the old cases. But get this, according to the toxicology report, all three of them had hydroxybutyric acid in their blood. Also known as liquid ecstasy. It's a date rape drug. The report concluded it was somehow injected into the girls, probably in their thigh where they all had the same puncture wound. The drug was also found among Juan Garcia's possessions."
I rubbed my forehead. "Oh, wow. So, they did believe they had a serial killer, but that he was arrested?"
"Yes."
"So, someone is in prison for committing these three murders, and we believe he's innocent?" I asked. "A scapegoat."
"Just like Sofia. They could easily have planted that drug to make him look guilty."
"Wow. This is getting bigger than I would have ever imagined," I said, feeling slightly overwhelmed.
But it all made a lot more sense now. The police feared for the American tourism, and therefore they quickly found a scapegoat so that they could close the cases, and people felt safe enough to come visit their little piece of paradise. Then, when a new girl showed up like one did seven months ago, they quickly found someone they else could get to confess. They didn't want to accuse any of the inhabitants at Lyford Cay since their business here was too important and their pile of money too big. So instead, they closed their eyes to the fact that one of the world's most lucrative places to live also housed one of the world's worst serial killers. It had to be someone from the inside. No one else had access to the community. You had to be on the list even to visit.
The question remained, who was he and why was he committing these brutal crimes? I had to start by finding out who the guy was. Several of the girls, it was mentioned, had met some guy. And what did Mr. Sakislov have to do with all this? Had he been a suspect in any of the other cases but the public just didn't know?
I looked at Emily. She gave me one of her most endearing smiles.
"You want me to hack, don't you?"
"I never thought I would hear myself say this, but could you…please?"
She chuckled. "My pleasure. I'll see what I can find in the police files. You go back to your beauty sleep."
Chapter 44
Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018
"Jack, wake up, wake up."
I blinked my eyes. It was light outside. Emily was looking down at me.
"W-what's going on?"
"I got the files," she said. "I copied them and downloaded them to my laptop."
I sat up. "And you're sure no one can track you?"
She scoffed. "They don't have any security at all to protect their information. I could walk right in…so to speak. I left no trace. I’m sure of it."
I got up from the bed and yawned, feeling exhausted. I couldn't quite grasp how Emily managed to seem so alert and like she wasn't tired at all. Was it an age thing? It made me feel old.
"It's your turn now," she said and handed me the computer.
I grabbed it and sat by the small table. Emily stood close to me, looking over my shoulder as I opened the first file, the case of Laurie Roberts. I read the description of how she was found, then opened the photos taken at the scene. I zoomed in on them, then read the autopsy report and wrote things down on my pad. Emily was still staring at me, and I looked up.
"How about you get yourself some sleep?" I asked. "You didn't sleep at all last night."
She bit her nails. "I don't think I can sleep. This is too exciting."
I chuckled. "That wasn't a request. You need your rest. Detectives need to be on full alert, and you can't be that if you're exhausted. Take a few hours, and then I'll tell you everything I’ve found out. When you wake up."
"Right," she said. "We work in shifts."
I chuckled again as I watched her crawl on top of her bed and fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. I listened to her light snoring for a few seconds, then shook my head, feeling overwhelmed with love for her. Whatever was going on with her these days, I liked it. A lot.
I returned to the case, wrote some more notes on my pad, then opened the next case. I read through the autopsy, looked at the photos, and wrote down the list of suspects that were taken in for questioning, then continued to the third case and did the same. When I was done, Emily was still deeply asleep. I felt my stomach growling, so I ran down to the restaurant, grabbed us a few plates of scrambled eggs and bagels, along with a pot of coffee and some cups, then hurried back to the room with it all on a tray.
As I walked inside, Emily had woken up. She was rubbing her eyes, her hair standing out in all directions.
"Where were you?"
"Got us some breakfast," I said.
I saw her put a hand to her stomach, then watched the fear creep into her eyes as she spotted the food on the tray.
"This was all they had," I said. "There was no more fruit. I know you like fruit."
She glanced briefly at her suitcase containing the scale and notebook. I didn't know if she had been on it the past few days or if she had kept track in her book, but I hoped she hadn't.
"Do you think yo
u might be able to eat this?" I asked cautiously.
She grabbed her stomach, and I could almost sense how she scolded herself for having lost control. She looked up like she wanted me to take over, like she was afraid to make the decision herself.
"It won't hurt you," I said, a sadness growing inside of me. It was brutal to see your daughter fight within herself like that. To see how she looked fearfully at something so ordinary as food. Food that was meant to keep us alive.
She contemplated for a few seconds before making her decision.
"I'll just have some coffee…for now," she said.
Chapter 45
Bahamas, October 2018
Her head was pounding heavily. It started while she was still passed out and sneaked into her dream. But as the pounding grew worse, Coraline finally opened her eyes with a loud gasp. As she did, she looked into a set of familiar eyes.
Feeling confused, Coraline looked around and sat up on the couch.
"W-here…am I…w-wh…what happened?"
The person bent over her and removed a lock of hair from her face. Coraline didn't like it and pulled away. Maybe it was the way this person was staring at her; maybe it was the place or the dream; she didn't know what it was. But something made the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
"I should get…going."
Coraline rose to her feet and stood for a few seconds while trying to maintain her balance. She tried to remember what had happened but couldn't recall anything after she had gotten dressed at the club and looked at herself in the mirror. She wondered if she had gotten drunk, but to her surprise, she didn't even remember a second of the date. Had she gotten anything to eat? She was starving, and her mouth was so very dry. Had they gone to a restaurant? She couldn't recall. Not even a little piece of it.
"How did I get here?" she said and looked around in the windowless room. "What time is it?"
The person sitting on the couch sent her a smile that gave her the chills. Coraline ignored it, then walked forward before she stopped and looked around.