A rustling in the woods reminded her how vulnerable she was. Feeling threatened, she jumped up and spun around to face the direction the sound had come from. With her back to the water, she scanned the woods along the beach, searching for whatever had made the sound. It came again but she couldn’t detect any movement. There were no voices this time. Her eyes widened, and she foolishly took a couple steps backward toward the water as if that was going improve her situation. She chanced a glance up the beach and down the other way to see if she could see anyone who might be able to come to her aid. Even the young couple that had passed by earlier was nowhere to be seen. For once, she wished she wasn’t alone on the beach. She tried talking herself into thinking it was simply a mongoose making its way through the underbrush, but she wasn’t very convincing.
Again the sound came. Her back stiffened and the tips of her fingers tingled. Her respiration became shallow and she could feel her heart beating rapidly inside her ribcage. She swallowed hard, surveying the beach again, trying to decide her best escape route. The sound became louder and movement caught her eye. Something dark. Gray? A couple shapes. Moving through the woods. Toward her. She wanted to run but her feet wouldn’t move. She just stood still. Staring at the movement.
To her relief, a donkey slowly emerged from the mangroves along the edge of the beach. A second plodded behind. Two of the many harmless donkeys that were wild on St. John and roamed freely. Olivia enjoyed seeing them. Locals weren’t always as enamored with the furry critters, but there was something quite adorable about them. Perhaps it was the way they could look you in the eye, if you could get close enough, and give you the impression they thought humans took life far too seriously.
Admonishing herself for letting her imagination get the best of her, she watched the two long-eared beasts saunter down the beach and onto the dirt path leading back to the trail until they were out of sight. Turning her face up toward the sun, she sat back down, pressing her feet into the wet sand. Gentle waves tickled her toes each time they reached the shore.
It didn’t occur to her the donkeys may have been frightened out of the woods by something . . . or someone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Detective Benson stood with his shoulders uncharacteristically slumped at the end of the hall on the third floor of the hospital. Gazing out the windows, his eyes were directed toward a flowering Flamboyant tree with bright orange-red blossoms. The gentle breeze jiggled the branches full of deep green leaves. A Bananaquit bird with its bright yellow breast hopped from branch to branch, but the detective wasn’t seeing any of it. Lost in his work, he shook his head in disbelief he hadn’t solved the case yet. He ran the tips of his fingers across the deep lines on his forehead, carved from years on the force worrying about keeping the public safe.
His makeshift office set up near the nurses’ station allowed him to monitor the situation that had taken on a life of its own over the last few days. So many bodies had been delivered to the morgue he figured he might as well hang out close by. He should be one of the first to know of any new additions.
His frustration was mounting, though. He had expected to have the case wrapped up already. This was one of the tougher ones he had been assigned to in all of his years on the force. He couldn’t let it slip away from him. There were unidentified bodies on the first floor and dangerous perpetrators loose somewhere on the island. Chances were they wouldn’t return to the landfill for another night, yet he had to try to anticipate what their next move would be. What went on sickened the stomach of even a seasoned cop like himself.
His phone jangled noisily inside his pants pocket. He grabbed it and answered in a gruff, impatient voice.
“Yeah, Benson here.” He listened intently and then his face fell.
“Oh, God . . . no,” he implored with a raspy voice, exhibiting signs of a lack of sleep. Closing his eyes, he used his free hand to try to rub the tension from the side of his head.
“Are you sure?” He leaned up against the cold rough concrete wall, needing the support. Opening his eyes again, he found a branch swaying in the breeze outside the window to focus on.
“Good God. Please tell me you’re wrong.” Listening to the harbinger on the other end of the line, he blinked firmly several times, fighting back his emotions and then hung up.
Slowly he gathered himself and started to close the distance between himself and James’ room, pausing for a moment halfway down to consider the difficult task ahead of him and then continued down the hallway.
Nodding to the uniformed officer seated outside the room, he tapped lightly on the door and then pushed it open to see Olivia’s father pulling on a dress shirt. Since James was on the phone with his back to him, Benson maintained his position at the door and took the opportunity to outline the impending conversation in his head.
Still buttoning his shirt and shoving the tail into his pants, the phone cradled in the crook of his neck, James turned his head as if to acknowledge the detective’s intrusion. He cut his conversation short, assuring the person at the other end of the line he would call back.
“So glad there’s at least a shred of privacy in the hospital.” His obvious grumpiness was tempered only slightly by his sarcasm.
James flopped down on the edge of the bed, folded his hands—resting them on his legs—and looked up expectantly. His body language implied he was at the officer’s mercy, ready to be submissive, but Benson knew otherwise. And what he was about to tell him would certainly push him into action.
“Mr. Benning, I’m afraid I have some rather . . .” He was trying to decide how best to break it to him. “It’s Olivia.”
James’ eyes grew wide and he sat up straight, grabbing the edge of the mattress with both hands. “What’s happened? Where is she?” Clearly the detective couldn’t answer his questions fast enough.
Benson paused, wishing he didn’t have to utter his next few words.
“She’s been in a car accident. Her car was discovered off of Hull Bay Road.”
James stood up quickly as if to take leave of the room and head out after her.
“Is she all right? Where is she?”
Benson hung his head. “I’m afraid she didn’t make it. I’m sorry.”
“How could this be?” His face grew ashen as he listened.
The detective chose to provide a few more details to allow her father to understand the gravity and inevitability of the situation.
“Sir, the vehicle went over the side of the road and down the embankment earlier this morning and burst into flames on impact. . . . They could only identify it by the license plate.”
“No.” James’ voice was barely audible. Turning away from the detective, he walked to the window that looked out over the front parking lot. He poked a couple fingers between the slats in the horizontal blinds as though trying to get a clearer view outside. He appeared to be expecting someone to arrive.
The detective waited patiently for Olivia’s father to process the news.
James turned from the window with fire in his eyes.
Benson had seen that look before. Usually it was on a suspect they were trying to arrest who felt like a caged animal and was willing to try anything to get away because he had nothing to lose. He instinctively took a step backward, even though James was across the room. The detective watched his nostrils flare and the color of his skin flush as anger ripped through his body.
“You are responsible! How could you let this happen? You had the information you needed. I gave you the CD.” His voice rose as he spoke. “Oh, you will pay for this. First my wife and now my precious daughter. You will pay for your ineptitude. You’ll wish it was you and not them.”
James turned back toward the window, gazing out to some distant point as if searching for a place where his heart could stop hurting.
“I’m sorry” was all Benson could think of to say. He turned and unceremoniously walked out, leaving Olivia’s father alone to grieve in private. Under his breath he lamen
ted, “Why didn’t she listen? She just couldn’t stay out of it and let us do our job. Damn it!” He smacked his palm on the frame of the door as he exited.
Outside the room, he leaned over and grabbed the shoulder of the officer on babysitting duty, forcing the rookie officer to look up.
“Looks like he’s going to make a run for it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Wrinkling her nose as she zigzagged through the set of double doors into the hospital foyer, Olivia noticed the sour aseptic smell seemed much stronger than usual. Pressing the elevator button, her body shivered uncontrollably. Too many memories in the short time since her first visit. She had never been fond of hospitals on the mainland, and the number of trips thus far to this island hospital was getting out of hand.
Feeling safer moving about the island under a cloak of darkness, Olivia had delayed her return until evening. The sun had long since set. She proceeded to the third floor and exited the elevator where the floor was relatively quiet. In the still of the night, she almost felt the need to tiptoe down the hall toward her father’s room. An older woman seated at the nurses’ station glanced up as she passed. Farther down the hall an orderly collected dinner trays, disrupting the calm with each noisy addition to a tall rolling cart that already was overloaded.
As she approached his room, she was disappointed to see there was no officer posted outside. Concerned her father’s safety had been ignored, she reached the door for Room 333 and pushed it open. She stood in the doorway and her mouth dropped open. It was pitch black. She reached for the light switch next to the door and hated to wake him up but flipped it on.
There was no one in the room. Both beds were unoccupied and made up neatly in anticipation of the next two patients’ arrivals. Olivia glanced from one bed to the other. She couldn’t understand what it meant.
Retreating from the empty room, she walked back to the nurses’ station. There had to be an explanation.
The elderly nurse with gray hair pulled back in a bun looked up as she approached the desk. “Can I help you with something?”
“Yes, please. My father, James Benning, was in Room 333 but now it’s empty. Can you tell me where he is?”
“And you are?”
Olivia hesitated, staring at her blankly, knowing she had already given her the information she needed. “Olivia Benning. His daughter.” She spoke slowly, trying not to sound condescending.
“Let me take a look.” She pulled out a clipboard and flipped through the first couple of pages, running her finger from the top to the bottom of each page. After the third page, she flipped back to the first page and repeated her motions.
Olivia grew impatient. How difficult could it be to keep track of patients in such a small hospital?
“Anything?” she asked, trying not to offend.
“I don’t see any record he was ever in that room. You said 330?”
“No! 333.” She spoke firmly, trying to stay calm but feeling herself losing patience.
“Oh, okay. Let me look again.” She repeated her actions with the clipboard but still shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t see a James Benning in any room.”
Olivia’s head fell forward in exasperation.
In a calm but firm voice she asked, “Who can I speak to, to find out where he is?” She wasn’t backing down. She wanted some answers. He couldn’t just disappear without a trace. Or could he?
The nurse opened her mouth to speak when the elevator doors opened and a man stepped off and walked toward them. He stopped short of reaching the desk.
“Olivia?” His voice had a definitive tone of disbelief.
Turning to look into the eyes of Detective Benson, she was relieved to see a familiar face, but he appeared shocked to see her. She was afraid to hear what might have happened to her father.
“Detective, where is my father? He’s not in his room.”
Benson glanced over at the nurse and then placed the palm of his hand gently on Olivia’s lower back. “Why don’t you come with me? I can fill you in.” Leaving the nurse behind they boarded the same elevator he had just stepped out of. As soon as the door closed, the detective turned to her with a shocked look on his face and grabbed one of her shoulders.
“You’re okay! We had received word you . . . you were hurt . . . in an accident. But you’re fine. Good to see.” His expression was a blend of bewilderment and relief.
“What happened to my father?” She wanted answers. Was he all right? Did he check himself out? A wave of guilt for leaving him in the care of the Virgin Islands Police Department washed over her.
“We had to move him.”
She was relieved he was still in the hospital. He hadn’t escaped. Or worse.
“So where is he?”
“We moved him one floor down. For security reasons. To keep him safe. A moving target is harder to hit.”
Olivia didn’t like the sound of that, but she appreciated their efforts to keep him safe.
The elevator doors opened again, and they were on the second floor, which was set up identically to the third.
“What room number?”
“Two nineteen.”
They took a right off the elevator this time, and she followed along next to the detective as they made their way to her father’s room.
As expected, there was a uniformed officer outside. He was standing next to his chair, which made him seem much more official and certainly more intimidating.
Olivia took the lead and pushed the door open. She was pleased to see her father was in the far bed located closest to the window. He seemed to be resting. His eyes were closed but, oddly, he was curled up in a near fetal position facing the door. Never having seen him looking as vulnerable, she felt sad for him. Something had changed since she had seen him last.
Feeling helpless, she stood there looking at her father, unaware the detective had followed her into the room. His voice from behind rattled her.
“You should wake him. He’ll be pleased to see you.”
“Oh, no. He needs his rest,” she whispered so as not to disturb him. “I’ll just tiptoe out. I can stop back in again in the morning.”
As she brushed past Benson, she heard a rustling sound behind her.
“Olivia?” His voice was shaky, his expression approaching shock.
“Yes, Dad.” She felt uncomfortable she had intruded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” She walked slowly over to his bed.
“Are you kidding? I’m happy to see you. Come over here! I knew they were wrong. It just couldn’t be.” He fumbled clumsily to sit up and throw his legs over the side of the bed. She stepped closer to him and leaned over so he was able to reach out and hold her in his arms. They hugged tightly, like they had never embraced before.
Olivia was surprised by his enthusiasm. Probably a side effect of his pain meds. She looked closely at his face and noticed how pale he looked. He appeared to be getting worse instead of better. It concerned her deeply.
Her father’s face fell as if he was reading her thoughts. He looked as though he had something to say, but Detective Benson came to life behind her before he could open his mouth.
“Miss Benning, there is a matter we need to discuss.”
Olivia stepped away from her father’s embrace and turned to Benson. “There is?”
“Yes. Olivia, this morning there was a terrible accident on the North side.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She searched his face, hoping for more information.
“A vehicle went off the road . . . Hull Bay Road . . . and down the embankment and burst into flames.”
Olivia’s eyes grew large. “Oh, how awful.”
The detective looked directly at her. “I think it was someone you know. It was a Jeep. Your Jeep.”
Her eyes grew wider and she gasped. “Sarah!”
“You two switched cars, didn’t you?”
Olivia sat down on the edge of her father’s bed and covered her mouth with both hands. �
�Oh, no . . . that was supposed to be me,” she blurted through splayed fingers.
“We’re going to have what’s left of the car checked out, but I would guess the brake lines were cut. There were no tire marks where it left the road.” His voice was even and his expression stern. “I’m sorry.”
The detective turned and exited the room.
Her body aching from the shock of the news, Olivia’s eyes brimmed with tears she didn’t attempt to quell, reaching the corners of her eyes and trickling down her cheek. Brushing them away without caring where they fell, she felt her father’s hand on her forearm, patting gently to let her know he was there for her. She didn’t feel worthy of his touch. Desperate to pull her arm away, she struggled to remain motionless in the awkwardness of the moment, not willing to hurt his feelings. Silence filled the small room.
An unknown female voice paged a doctor to a room on the first floor. She had a fleeting inclination it might be the morgue.
Olivia remained next to her father until he fell asleep. Images of Sarah and her idea to switch cars haunted her. Why hadn’t she insisted on taking her own car? She would never forgive herself. The floodgates of grief opened. Her body shook as she sobbed uncontrollably, on the edge of the bed, while her father snored loudly. After wiping her well-sodden cheeks with the back of her hand the best she could, she slipped back out to the hallway. Her stomach felt sick with guilt.
Detective Benson was waiting for her just down the hall. Olivia couldn’t stand it any longer. Knowing she had selfishly waited too long, she needed to tell him about the CD she had found in her mother’s fridge. It was embarrassing to admit she had hung onto it and then let it slip out of her hands. It could have been useful. Shouldering the consequences of her actions felt unwieldy, and she needed to come clean. Not that she would be able to sleep any better, but it was the right thing to do.
The Empty Chair ~ Murder in the Caribbean Page 26