“Go around? I wanna get inside that thing! I’m sure it’s awesome.”
“No, no way! It is strictly forbidden to go inside! It’s dangerous!”
She cocked her head to the side, walked closer to him, grabbed his hands, and made an exaggerated pout.
“Pleeeeaaase. If you help me get inside that, I’ll help you get inside me.” She wiggled her eyebrows to accentuate her point and then kissed his neck softly, showing him things to come. “I’ll be careful.”
“Daphne…”
His tone was resigned. She pulled him with her as she ran north. She couldn’t wait to see this up close.
The beach became rocky and unwelcoming. The waves crashed loudly, battering the ship. She could see there were pieces broken off the vessel strewn along the beach.
“Come on, Ricardo! Let’s find a way to climb aboard!”
She had no idea how she would do this without ropes or ladders but she ran forward nevertheless. She was already thinking about how cool it would be to have sex in a shipwreck. How many people could claim ever having done that?
“No, I’m not going!”
“What?”
“We have no right to go up there. When you’re finished playing around, come and join me at my boat.”
He turned around and walked away like a child going home with his ball. She was about to argue before deciding this was too much fun. Fine, no sex on a shipwreck, but she was about to have the experience of a lifetime anyway. She went ahead.
When she was close enough, she saw movement on the ship. She was instantly deflated. Now there was no way she could inspect the wreck. Then again, perhaps she was mistaken. Maybe it was a bird or something.
She continued going forward until she could actually smell the rusting steel, the wind showering her with metal flakes and ocean spray. That’s when she got a clearer picture of the movement from before. It was a man.
A man with a machine gun.
* * *
That Ryker had disappeared in the morning was disappointing but not necessarily surprising. Jessica thought it must have something to do with how men were wired. Just to make sure, upon waking up she peeked into the bathroom and out on the small balcony, but there was no trace of him.
She would have enjoyed cuddling a little longer but it was probably for the best that he was gone. She wasn’t looking for romance, especially with some stranger she knew nothing about. According to Daphne, vacations were meant to have fun so that’s all she would allow herself to have. No feelings, no problems. Just fun.
Although she wasn’t the kiss-and-tell type, she couldn’t wait to gossip with her friend about how her evening had gone. She wouldn’t spill the more salacious details but she was eager to prove to Daphne her that she wasn’t just a goody-two-shoes.
She took a long shower even though washing off Ryker’s scent was bittersweet. As she soaped her body, she thought about what he had done to her, how he had made her feel. Her fingers wandered in secret places, lingering long enough to remember how extraordinary the night had been and to relive the highlights.
She ended the shower before getting carried away – she hated losing control. While toweling her hair she picked up the phone. Daphne would never believe this! It rang forever. Jessica threw her head back as she recalled her friend’s schedule.
“She was going exploring this morning!”
Knowing her, going exploring for her meant one part sightseeing and two parts wild screwing. She wouldn’t be back for a few hours. Jessica made peace with it and finished getting ready. She went to the breakfast buffet, making sure not to look anyone in the eye, feeling dorky at eating alone.
She then went back to her room to see if there were any messages from Daphne. There weren’t so she grabbed her iPad and went out to read by the pool, listening to Fun’s All Alright through her ear buds. She baked on one side, read three chapters, and flipped over to do her back. She dosed off and when she woke up she discovered that almost two hours had gone by. The sunscreen and a couple of generous clouds saved her from burning.
Back in her room, there still weren’t any messages from Daphne. Even the front desk had not heard from her. She lounged in the sun some more but she couldn’t focus on her book anymore. The redhead should have been back by now. She made an effort not to sink back into her actual worrywart disposition though it was tough going.
She had lunch, waited some more, and forced herself to read yet another chapter. She paid zero attention to the story.
“Where is she?” she mumbled to herself while walking away from the pool area.
She went to Daphne’s room but her knock was unanswered. She called her cell phone and got nothing but her voicemail. Jessica then decided to own up to her worrywart nature. She had to find her friend, if only to put her mind at ease.
Jessica hated herself for this but there was no other choice. She had to go to the police.
Chapter 5
Jessica was practically shaking throughout the cab ride. It was definitely extreme to go to the authorities but something wasn’t right. Daphne was the consummate party girl and she had done her fair share of stupid things, but disappearing like this wasn’t quite in her bones. She would have left a clue behind, even if it was just a pair of dirty underwear.
“We are here,” the driver told her.
Her first instinct was to laugh. The taxi driver had to be putting her on, this couldn’t be a police station. Located at the mouth of St. Anna Bay, the headquarters of the Curaçao Police Corps looked like a quaint New England building, the kind that might have been turned into a bed and breakfast for affluent tourists.
The three-story structure had been painted azure with white trim and had a red tiled roof. If it hadn’t been for the three white police cars parked in front, she never would have believed she was at the right place. She paid the driver and hurried inside.
Since the local police wasn’t exactly the size of the NYPD, she was afraid no one would respond to her but in the end it worked in her favor. The place wasn’t bustling with activity so she was quickly attended to by a man she associated with a desk sergeant, something she’d heard about from the movies. He talked to her in Papiamentu, followed by Dutch, before referring her to an English-speaking police officer. The man led her to his desk.
“What is your problem?”
She was taken aback by the question; it was the kind of thing that started arguments back home in Virginia. Then again, the young man’s tone was friendly. It was a perfectly legitimate question, she had to admit.
“My friend is missing.”
The cop nodded and took some notes.
“Name?”
“Daphne Stebleton, she has red hair…”
“No, your name.”
“Oh. Jessica Densley.”
“Address and phone number? Your address and phone number.”
She gave it to him and he dutifully scrawled everything down. He then asked for her passport and again he took copious notes. Jessica was fuming. Why was he asking all these questions about her when it was her friend who was missing?
“Name of missing person?”
“Daphne Stebleton,” she answered before spelling it out for him. “She is 24 years old. She’s five foot six, 125 pounds…”
“What is this in centimeters and kilos?”
“Oh, right,” she said. Her geology studies came in handy as she had a grasp of the metric system. “About… 167 centimeters and about… 57 kilos. Like I said before, she has red hair.”
“How many days you have missed her?”
“How long has she been missing? This morning. She’s been missing since this morning.”
“Only this morning?” the police officer asked incredulously.
“Well, technically I haven’t seen her since last night. We went our separate ways late in the evening but we were supposed to meet earlier today. She never showed up.”
“We have a problem, Mrs. Densley.”
Her mouth w
ent dry. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not missing person if less than one day. Maybe your friend meet somebody.”
“But you don’t understand! This is not her style. Daphne would have called, she would have left me a note, something! She doesn’t just disappear.”
“I’m sorry, come back tomorrow.”
“No, you have to help me! Something must have happened!”
She looked around and realized she had raised her voice to a scream. Everyone had stopped moving and all eyes were riveted on her. In normal circumstances, she would have been mortified at being the center of attention but right now she didn’t care. Daphne was in danger and she had to do something to help her.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Densley. Go back to hotel and wait,” the cop stood up. “If tomorrow morning she not back, come see me again. Okay?”
Okay? It wasn’t friggin’ okay! Nevertheless, she knew that these people wouldn’t help her.
“Fine.”
She grabbed her passport from the desk and stomped away.
* * *
Once her hotel room door slammed behind her, Jessica switched on her cell phone and decided she didn’t care about roaming fees and ridiculous data charges. She needed to be available in case Daphne or the police called. Plopping down on the bed, she realized there was one official channel she hadn’t tried yet.
She dug into her notes and found a phone number for the US consulate right here in Curaçao. Her planning for this vacation had been extremely meticulous. She had been determined to not be caught off guard by anything. It was a local number so she used the landline.
She was put on hold for an eternity before speaking with someone – someone who transferred her to someone else, necessitating another five-minute wait. In the end, she was told that the diplomatic mission couldn’t do anything to help her, that it was a matter for the police. But hey, at least they did something the cops hadn’t done; they wished her luck.
She turned on the TV, didn’t watch any of it, and closed her eyes to think of something, anything. She didn’t stop worrying altogether, she couldn’t switch that off in herself. However, that didn’t mean she had to sit idly by. She racked her brain trying to figure out a way to contribute. She checked Daphne’s Facebook page and unsurprisingly there was no recent activity.
And then she had the best worst idea of the day.
Her ex-boyfriend Greg had always gotten along swimmingly with the redhead. She had never been the third wheel with them and even after they had broken up Greg and Daphne had remained in contact. It had troubled Jessica at first – after all, wasn’t her best friend supposed to stick with her?
For a time she even suspected they were more than friends. What if they’d been having an affair behind her back? It was only a matter of time before it blew up in their faces. And yet, Daphne soon found herself another guy in a long string of disposable relationships and Greg had a short rebound affair with a tall volleyball player. It turned out the two of them were merely good friends.
Calling him was the last thing she wanted to do and yet to not do so would have been completely stupid. She took a deep breath and dialed his number, which was still stored into her phone in spite of her vow to erase it.
“I’m crazy,” she mumbled to herself. “Why am I even doing this?”
She listened to the distant ringing while thinking about what she was going to say. It rang and rang some more. Finally, she was faced by the best case scenario: hitting his voicemail.
“Oh, hey. It’s Jessica. I hope you’re okay, I’m good. Listen uh, was just wondering if maybe you heard from Daphne recently, like today? Maybe she called you, texted you… Anyway, it’s no big deal. Let me know if you have a chance, okay? Bye.”
She had a feeling this was the lamest cry for help ever uttered but there was nothing else she could do. He would most likely call her back saying he doesn’t know anything, but she couldn’t leave any stone unturned.
What else could she do? With her eyes glued to her phone as if she could will it to ring, she paced along her room. What else? What else? What would Nancy Drew do?
That’s when it hit her.
She ran out of her room and headed for the lobby at record speeds. Vacationers openly gawked at her but she didn’t care. Her objective was the rack of brochures on the wall near the front desk. There were maps, ads for sightseeing tours, anything to snare tourists into spending more money than they had planned on.
She scanned the smorgasbord of colorful flyers and spotted a familiar one: Curaçao Parasailing. It was the company they had contacted when Daphne had felt like soaring above the Caribbean Sea. It was where she had first flirted with Ricardo.
She swiftly left the hotel and found a taxi waiting outside. She showed the driver her pamphlet and they pulled away from the curb. She was excited, this was the best idea she’d had so far. Simultaneously, she hated herself for not having thought about it sooner. She could have had the police investigate this lead.
It wasn’t actually too late to get the cops involved but the day was fading away and she was afraid that if she made a detour to fetch Officer Friendly she would find the parasailing business closed.
“Can we go a little faster, please?”
She felt bad asking this, it so wasn’t her style, but time was of the essence. The cabbie mumbled something unintelligible but at least the car picked up speed. She tightened her grip on her purse and wondered if she’d have to do like in the movies and tip people for information. She hoped not because she would rapidly run out of funds. The thousand dollars she had brought with her for the vacation was vanishing fast.
The city of Willemstad rolled past her window and yet she saw nothing. Everywhere she looked the buildings sported a different pastel shade. According to legend, she had read in a travel guide, in the 1800s the Dutch governor had had major migraines and he was convinced they were caused by how the sun reflected off the drab walls. So by official decree he had all residents paint houses in bright colors, anything but white.
On her first day she couldn’t get enough of the joyfully colored buildings, the smiling people roaming the streets. Not now, not anymore. Her mind was blank. She was vaguely aware of having traveled this route yesterday but that was the extent of her observation.
“We are here,” the driver said at last when they entered the marina.
He told her how much she owed, she found she didn’t have enough guilders, and then roughly calculated the amount in US dollars. She overpaid to compensate for mistakes and the man’s tip, and rushed out of the car.
Jessica focused again. She remembered the little shack where Daphne had paid the day before and she went inside. The tiny bell above the door startled her but she was nevertheless happy because it meant they were still open.
“Bon dia, con ta bai?”
The man behind the counter was pushing 70. He wore a threadbare muscle shirt but someone had forgotten to tell him you needed some sort of muscle to show off first. He looked as frail as month-old pecan brittle.
“Uh hi,” she replied, immediately forgetting the few Papiamentu phrases she had bothered to learn. “English?”
“Si, a little. You here yesterday? You want go again tomorrow?”
“No, I didn’t come about that.”
“Good price, special deal for you.”
“No, no. I came to see Ricardo.”
That made him laugh knowingly. “Ah! You one of his womans!”
“No, absolutely not! But… But I know one of them, my friend Daphne. She went out with him last night and again this morning. Have you seen Ricardo today?”
“Yes, came late but I see him.”
“Was he alone? Was he with a girl? This girl?”
She pulled out her phone, fetched a picture of Daphne she had taken on the first day in Curaçao, and showed it to him.
“No, just see her yesterday when you come.”
Jessica’s spirits fell again. She had been holding onto this last ray
of hope.
Chapter 6
Now she was back to investigation mode.
“I need to see Ricardo, please. Is he here?”
“No, day is finished.”
“Can you give me his phone number? His address? I need to see him immediately, it’s important. Please…”
He pondered the request for a moment and she wondered if he was waiting for a tip.
“Come back tomorrow.”
“You don’t understand, my friend is in danger! Here…”
She dug into her purse and pulled out a handful of $20 bills which she put on the counter between them.
“No no,” he said, shaking his head and pushing the money away. “No necessary. I don’t sell information. I don’t give information either. Come back tomorrow.”
He put his hands in his pockets, turned around, and disappeared into the back room.
“Sir, please! If you don’t tell me then you’ll have to tell the police. That’s where I’m going right now and they’ll ask you the same question.”
She waited ten more seconds but the man didn’t return. So much for her tough-guy routine, she thought with despair. She pocketed the money and left the shack. In her haste she had forgotten to have the taxi wait for her. There was no telling how long she’d have to walk before finding another cab.
Great.
She got off the pier and started walking around the marina toward the exit when she saw a man coming toward her. His dark skin and tall frame was familiar to her but it was the turquoise polo shirt that made a light bulb go off in her brain. It was him, it was Ricardo!
Her heart lighter, she found herself jogging toward him. She scarcely noticed that he froze when he spotted her.
“Ricardo! Don’t move, stop!”
He instinctively looked around as if she was part of a well-orchestrated maneuver to nab him.
“Ricardo,” she said again when she reached him. “Do you remember me? I’m Daphne’s friend, we met when she came parasailing yesterday.”
“Yes, I remember.”
Jessica noticed hesitation in his voice. He was nervous.
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