by Rae Vine
“You’re up early,” Cindy commented when Emma later walked into the kitchen. “Going somewhere?” She put two slices of bread into the toaster. Emma poured herself a bowl of cereal and hesitated before answering; her reluctance came from not wanting to give Cindy any clue as to what she was going to do today.
“I’m not sure yet.”
“Couldn’t sleep again?” Cindy raised her freshly made up face towards Emma as she waited.
“Actually, I slept really well, for a change,” Emma replied, bringing a spoonful of cereal to her mouth.
“You heard about the girl at the beach?” Cindy asked. There was almost a touch of excitement to her words.
“Hmmm.” Emma replied, chewing.
“Good news, huh?”
“Not for the girl.”
“You know what I mean. Poor girl. But it means Stacy might still be…you know…” She reached over to grab a cup from the cupboard just above Emma’s head. “Did you want a cup?”
Emma shook her head, still chewing away on her cereal. “Alive,” said Emma, finishing the sentence for her. Cindy gave her an apologetic look. “I hope so. I really do.”
They were silent again. Cindy took her plate over to the breakfast table and sat down. “Are you in a rush?” she asked, probably wondering why Emma wasn’t joining her.
“No, I’m admiring the view.” Emma lied and looked though the kitchen window at the small sized pool that glistened under the sky like shiny cellophane.
“You were always in that pool the last time you were here.”
“It was a different kind of visit.”
“We ought to be doing something.”
Emma turned around to face her. “Like what?”
Cindy shrugged. “I don’t know. We could make some noise. Do something. Maybe an interview on TV or with the local paper. We could organize a march or something to raise awareness. Something. She can’t just disappear and we’re sitting around doing nothing, waiting on the police—”
“We’re not waiting on the police. They’re not going to do a thing.”
“That’s exactly what I mean. With this murder and all, there could be a madman on the loose.”
Emma stopped eating. She hadn’t even dwelt there. Her mind had been so focussed on the sex ring theory, that she’d failed to consider other alternatives.
Other, more gruesome alternatives.
Why was Cindy so concerned all of a sudden? All week she’d done nothing but carry on with her life as normal. She went to work, she came home to that shithead boyfriend of hers, and she did the same thing the next day. Apart from offering her a little sympathy, Cindy hadn’t been there for her, nor had she expressed much interest in Stacy’s disappearance. And Emma was still none the wiser about what she and her boyfriend had argued over.
So why the sudden desire to do something? Was guilt driving her? Emma took her bowl and joined Cindy at the table. “Why now?” she asked.
Cindy gave her an odd look. “Why not?”
“I’m just wondering why you didn’t bring this up earlier, like when I first landed.”
“You were running here and there, visiting the police station, trying to come to terms with what had happened. I was too. I wasn’t thinking clearly. But now that this other girl has been found, we might have a chance.”
Or Stacy might be dead. Emma tried to dislodge the image as soon as it appeared. “It’s strange, don’t you think? Stacy and that girl both disappeared around the same time?”
“She was missing too? For that long?”
“That’s what I heard,” Emma replied. She hadn’t realized that the news she’d gleaned from Queenie might not have been made public. It would be better to keep details about Queenie close to her chest for now.
“That kind of stuff doesn’t happen around here much.”
“No?”
“God, no. Bermuda’s a safe place,” said Cindy biting into her toast. Emma wondered if the girl lived solely on peanut butter and bread.
“So you think there’s no crime here?”
Cindy shook her head and looked horrified. “It’s as safe as Prince Edward Island, but warmer.” She’d forgotten that Cindy was from Canada.
“You’d feel safe here at night? Along Front Street? Walking around on your own?”
“I don’t know about walking around everywhere,” said Cindy, picking up her cup of tea. “Like I wouldn’t go to Court Street in Hamilton, but most of the island is fairly safe.”
“Like Starling Bay?”
“Starling Bay is probably the safest place there is.”
“Funny, then that both—,” she stopped herself before giving too much information away, “that Stacy went missing from that very place.”
Cindy didn’t have an answer for that. “I wish I could turn back the clock to that night. I’d have dragged your sister back home with me.”
“Me, too,” said Emma dreamily.
“Shit! Is that the time?” Cindy glanced at her watch, abandoned her breakfast and rushed out. Emma looked at the half-drunk cup of tea that she’d left and the crumbs sprinkled all over the worktop surface, the butter knife still in the peanut butter jar and wondered how her sister put up with living with such a dirty person. It would be enough to drive Stacy crazy.
Cindy poked her head back as she slipped on her jacket. “Are you staying or coming?” she asked.
“I need a cup of coffee first.” Emma told her.
“Okay, see you this evening.” The door slammed shut and silence fell upon the apartment.
Emma cleared away her dishes and cleaned up Cindy’s mess. It wasn’t that she was in need of caffeine, she just didn’t want to leave with Cindy; not only because she didn’t want to make conversation but because she also didn’t want to tell Cindy what she had planned to do with her day. The less Cindy knew, the less Gregory would know. He was the last person she wanted involved in her life or Stacy’s. And she was more wary of him than ever.
An interview with the local TV station or the newspaper? Cindy’s idea was a good one and she kicked herself for not having thought of it herself. She should have made as much noise as possible the moment she had landed. But she was in a foreign country, and she knew nobody; the idea simply hadn’t occurred to her. Instead she’d relied more on Ty than anything else.
But it wasn’t too late. With the media going crazy and emotions running high about the murder, now was a perfect time to raise awareness that a second young woman had also disappeared.
The more she considered the idea, the more she got excited. She didn’t think that organizing a march would be very effective, least of all because she barely knew enough people on the island. She’d need Cindy and Gregory’s help to get a big enough crowd together and she didn’t want to rely on them.
But speaking to the TV stations or news reporters was something she could do. The idea got her fired up.
She quickly tidied up and closed the door to Stacy’s room. But she was caught up in the idea of going through Cindy’s belongings, just in case. She’d already been through Stacy’s personal effects twice and concluded that there was nothing unusual to be found. But she’d become more suspicious of Cindy and Gregory, especially since the argument she’d overheard. What if she looked through Cindy’s things quickly now while she had the chance? She would be able to put her curiosity at rest one way or another.
It was worth a shot and now was the perfect time to have a snoop with Cindy having just left for work and it being early morning.
But even as she considered the idea and stared at the door to Cindy’s bedroom, she found herself unable to move towards it. Instead she took a step towards the front door, a part of her getting ready to leave knowing it would be safer to leave the apartment and go into Hamilton. While she debated what to do, her heart pumped like a pneumatic drill. With her heart still beating, she glanced at Cindy’s door again. It was slightly ajar.
Did she dare to risk it? She felt guilty and knew it was wrong. But
she walked in anyway. And gasped at the stench and the mess of the place: an unmade bed, clothes strewn over the bed and on the chair, shoes tossed carelessly in one corner, a chaotic blend of laces and stilettoes. It was a total mess.
She flung her bag on the floor by the door and moved over to the dresser and, as she had done with Stacy, she rifled through Cindy’s clothes. But she found nothing out of the ordinary. There were the usual going out dresses and work clothes, a fusion of different colors and styles. She opened the drawers one by one and rummaged through them, not sure what it was she was looking for or what she expected to find. A note, perhaps? Or something that shouldn’t be where it was? She’d know when she saw it.
With her back turned to the door she became so engrossed in her search that she didn’t notice the sound outside. Or hear the door open, or sense the silent movement behind her.
Crouched over, with her knees half bent, going through a drawer of Cindy’s tee-shirts and vests, she remained completely oblivious to the warnings.
Until the stench hit her nostrils.
Gregory’s stench.
She spun around in shock and fell backwards onto the dresser.
“What are you doing in here?” His voice was quiet, controlled and more deadly than if he’d shouted at her. This, the lowered voice, the restrained control, frightened her more. She pushed herself slowly forward. “I was looking for a tee-shirt.” It was a pathetic attempt, and she knew it.
Gregory stared at her, his eyes dark and his pupils dilated. “A tee-shirt?” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “What fucking tee-shirt?”
Story continued in Book 3. Click here to sign up to the new releases list for early notification.
If you’ve enjoyed this story please tell your friends or please leave a review. Your opinion goes a long way in helping others decide if a book is for them! If you have any comments, please email me at [email protected]. I’d love to hear from you.
Thank you.
Rae
PUBLISHED BY:
Rae Vine
Paradise Broken
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.
The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book through the internet or any other means without the prior written consent of the author is illegal and is punishable by law.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and do not bear any resemblance to any real person, alive or dead.
Copyright © 2015
Rae Vine
Books by Rae Vine
Starling Bay Novellas:
Paradise Undone
Paradise Broken