Cruise: A Thriller

by Suzanne Vermeer

  She had to laugh at herself. The months in Spain had really loosened her up. Everything will work out fine! If it doesn’t happen today, it will happen tomorrow—a brand new day with brand new opportunities!

  Actually, she had already started to take on that attitude a little bit last year, during her journey back to the Netherlands; though at the time, she thought it was just the exhaustion she felt after everything that had happened. During the long ride home her imagination had taken off with her. While the kilometers passed below, she examined her life as she knew it to be before all of this happened. That life no longer existed. She had to start all over again from scratch. The road to Eindhoven was far, and her thoughts had strayed back to the house she had just seen for sale outside of Blanes. The location was amazing. It had a breathtaking ocean view. Simply a wonderful location that no tour guide would pass without stopping.

  However, she had been realistic enough to also see the disadvantages. What was she hoping to find in Spain? Right near Frank’s love nest! She would be all alone, without family and friends, sitting among the fruit trees. Not to mention it was in the vicinity of the same body of water in which she almost drowned! And then there was the dilapidated state the house was in. She could probably pull that off financially, but she wondered whether she could pull it off emotionally. Her roots were in the Netherlands. That was where she had built her life. Though she had also wondered what was left of that life now.

  What if she left her life in the Netherlands behind and went to fight her demons in Spain and work through her trauma? She had grown very tired of her life being about serving others. She had only been taken advantage of, that much she knew for sure. She needed a change. So what would be the harm in putting together a team of construction workers to work on this house? The thought excited her. In no time at all, the cracks in the walls could be fixed. A painter would quickly scrape the peeling paint from the outside walls and paint the whole place in that perfect cream color she was so fond of. A few gardeners would plow through the orchard with rakes and sprays. The weeds would all disappear, and the fruit flies would leave the orange trees. The paradise she’d envisioned would come to life. …

  She had enjoyed all of her wild and creative ideas, though she had questioned and wondered to what extent it was really all feasible. Whether she would actually have the guts to go and live in Spain and turn that house into her dream home. But where there’s a will, there’s a way. …

  The trip had been progressing well. After a tasteless meal at a roadside restaurant, she had decided to drive to Netherlands in one big swoop, without stopping. She had arrived in the middle of the night, feeling broken, and had parked her car in front of her door. Mission accomplished. Exhausted, she crawled in bed and quickly got between the sheets.

  After a cup of strong coffee, the day that she had dreaded had begun. It was quiet in the neighborhood. Once in a while, a car drove by or someone on a bicycle passed. The mailman delivered two letters. They were on the doormat. As far as she could tell they were bank statements.

  There were three voicemail messages. Her mother and Jurgen asked her to call after she’d arrived. They sounded worried. The third message was from Peter Redderswaal. He asked her sternly to call him as soon as possible, saying that it was urgent.

  First she had called and reassured her mother and Jurgen, telling them that she’d had a good trip, but that she was very tired. She had promised to call again the next day to schedule a time and day to see each other. Jurgen had agreed. Her mother had wanted to come over right away, but Heleen had managed to talk her out of it.

  Then she called Peter. He had been glad to hear from her but preferred to speak to her privately and in person, preferably the same day. They agreed to meet that afternoon at three o’clock at her home.

  In the meantime, she called and spoke with her ​​new friends from Nice. Bernadette was at working from home and was left in amazement during Heleen’s account of the events. “Too weird for words!” By the end of the conversation, Heleen had thanked her French friend for her help again. Without her help, input, and commitment, the truth would have never come to light. Bernadette had dismissed her comments. They agreed to stay in touch.

  Then she called Christian and Etienne. Christian was still recovering at home with a dislocated shoulder. Etienne was at work.

  Christian’s reaction was the same as Bernadette’s. While she told the story once again about the cellar and the boat, he growled indignantly. When she finished her story, Christian explained that they had received a few call from friends in the scene with more information about Vincent Gautier. In the months before his death, Gautier had established himself as a big spender. He had been a regular at the casinos along the coast and had spent bucket loads of money at the bars and clubs. He bragged openly about the millions he had received and what a huge rush it gave him to spend it all as quickly as possible.

  She had stored the information somewhere in the back of her mind and thanked him for all of their efforts. After she promised to stay in touch and that she would call Etienne later, she hung up. With the knowledge that she still had to make one more difficult call, she decided to walk into the kitchen first to make a sandwich.

  It had been early in the morning in New York. But it was a time when Monique was awake already. She worked for a bank on Wall Street and had to travel at least one hour to get there each day. Heleen wondered if Monique would still want to go to work after her phone call. She realized that she was about to spoil her sister-in-law’s day.

  Monique had responded just as she had expected. First in total disbelief and then she became furious, especially at Heleen. She asked her if she was on drugs or if she was delirious. She refused to listen to any more stories that dragged her brother through the mud.

  Because she had already prepared herself for this reaction, Heleen had remained calm. She had let Monique get it all out of her system and continued, as stoically as possible, reciting all the hard facts to her. She also described her experiences, sometimes in great detail. Monique grew quiet, the realization slowly sinking in that her brother had committed a series of unforgivable mistakes. By the end of the conversation, she had given Monique the phone number of the detective who led the investigation team in Blanes. Because Monique was family, he would probably give her additional information and confirm the story.

  After she ended the call to New York, she felt a little down. Monique didn’t deserve this. She had always loved and adored her brother, and this had to be a huge blow to her. Heleen hoped that their relationship would remain good in the future, but had mixed feelings. Despite everything, Frank was still Monique’s brother. …

  Peter rang the doorbell at the exact time they had planned to meet. He greeted her warmly, but also seemed a little uneasy. After all the stories that he had heard about the case, he didn’t know what he should or should not believe anymore. So it was a good thing that they could catch up now.

  First he had asked questions, and she had answered. Then Peter had told her about the huge impact that the news from Spain had on the management. The first reports about Frank’s arrest had trickled in slowly through the insurance company in Marseille. Bewilderment had quickly turned into anger. But everyone had agreed to keep calm. It was very important to hear her side of the story now in order to find out what had really happened. Now that he had heard the story firsthand from her, Peter told her about a conversation he had had with the management of Frank’s employer. Everyone had agreed that this was a tragic situation with some serious financial consequences. And clearly criminal charges would have to be filed. All of this made the case and the necessary formalities that went along with it a long and complicated process. He had also urged her not to speak to the press at all.

  “What press?” she asked.

  “It’s only a matter of time before they will be on your doorstep,” he replied somberly.

  39

  Peter had been right. The press showed up at her door
the very next day. After she gently but firmly informed everyone at her door that she had no comment and went back inside, everyone started calling. The requests ranged from invitations to be a guest on a talk show to selling her story to a magazine. They offered significant amounts of money. Though it wasn’t easy, she continued to keep her mouth shut. Later, that would turn out to have been the right decision.

  The media’s interest lasted for about five days. With exceptions from a few persistent types, the interest in her story quickly faded into the background.

  During those hectic days Peter had been very supportive. He carried her through the worst moments. For example, when the umpteenth television crew showed up at her door and she just felt like telling her story so they would leave her alone and go away, once and for all, Peter continued to make it clear to her that in the long run it would be better for everyone involved if she remained quiet. She could always tell her story later on. First they had to see what the outcome of the lawsuit and financial situation would be.

  He also recommended that she contact a lawyer in Eindhoven immediately. She could certainly use some help since she did not have any kind of prenuptial agreement, owned real estate, and had quite recently received a significant amount of insurance money. Given that her husband had been indicted, her attorney saw no reason why the house wouldn’t eventually get put solely in her name. The insurance money, however, was a different story. It would be a question of long and tedious negotiations. Her excellent relationship with Peter was a great advantage in all of this.

  After she left the law firm, her head was spinning. Many things that he had told her had gone completely over her head. What she did understand, however, was a bizarre development that had taken place in this case. Although no one said it out loud, the fact that Frank had committed these crimes was being pushed aside for now. That part was now left to the law enforcement agencies. The judges would rule on his punishment in a lawsuit and that was the end of it.

  Although it went against her feelings, she had kept her end of the deal. Deep in her heart, she wanted to tell her story to the whole world. To explain to people how she was betrayed by her husband in such a horrible way. How he had fooled, humiliated, and nearly killed her. That’s what she really wanted to say, to scream it from the rooftops, so that everyone would know what a bastard Frank Eldering was. If she could manage to take away his finances, to hit him where it hurt, only then would she have taken her real revenge. For him, everything had been about the money from the start.

  After the press commotion had faded, she had tried to pick up her life again. She had visited her family and called her closest colleagues. Her lawyer had advised against doing that, but to Heleen it was a compromise. She could not continue to play stupid with everyone forever. It had worked out well. Everyone in her immediate surroundings, who was informed and aware, had kept their mouths shut.

  Alex also came by again. During the media madness his mother had forbidden him to go visit her. According to Alex’s mother, Heleen had had too much on her mind at that time to be bothered to take care of her neighbor’s son. Although she did not show it, she was grateful to his mother for this.

  The weeks had crawled by at a very slow pace. Despite the fact that the peace had returned in her life, she didn’t feel right. She couldn’t even think about returning to work. Just the idea of ​​going in to the office made her cringe. She was in a rhythm that was not her own. She felt miserable. Only Alex’s visits offered her some much-needed distraction and helped keep things in perspective. And no matter how ungrateful it sounded, she’d pretty much had enough of everyone else. The way she saw it, they were all part of a society in which she could not and would not function any longer.

  That feeling would only grow stronger with each day that passed. Because she could not go on like this, she decided to make a drastic change in her life. The house in Spain kept creeping back into her mind. The wonderful climate and relaxed way of life seemed so much more appealing to her compared to the way people got through their days in the Netherlands. It felt like a vicious cycle there.

  Maybe she idealized life in Spain too much. During another typical Dutch downpour or while watching another game show on television, she would drift off into a daydream. She saw herself sitting on the patio of her dream house with a glass of juice. The sun was shining, and the Mediterranean created a calm and beautiful bright-blue backdrop. That calmness had not appeared in her earlier memories. It had always felt like the wild, black darkness in which she had almost drowned.

  Because she really wanted to pursue her dream, which was actually an escape from her suffocating reality, she fought hard against those painful memories. She realized that it wasn’t the sea that almost killed her, but her own husband. Once that realization really sank in, it was easier to disconnect the sea from the events that took place in it, and it seemed like a far less crazy idea to her to revisit that place again.

  Of course all of this was taking place in her imagination, but still … it felt like a victory, both in terms of overcoming her past and moving forward now. What had happened in Blanes was no longer an obstacle in the way of her future. She would break free from all those chains by following her gut and choosing her own direction, one that the outside world might not understand at all.

  Sometimes she declared herself a fool for wanting to return to that evil place. What sane person would choose an unknown adventure in Spain over the security and comfort of a life in the Netherlands? To return to a place that had caused her so much pain!

  Frank had wanted to retire in the sun using his fraud money. What was more beautiful than to realize his dream in her own way? That she, instead of he, would end up enjoying the Spanish life. While he and his Spanish whore rotted away in their cells.

  She suddenly felt a deep need for revenge. Something she didn’t recognize in herself, but helped her to recover and feel much stronger. She would not be pushed around anymore. Those days were over. Never again!

  She took the plunge and bought a ticket to Barcelona. At the airport she had rented a car and drove toward Blanes. The owner of the house had received her with open arms. He really took his time and gave her an extensive tour. She had to use a lot of gestures and hand movements, and they spoke in a mixture of English and the few Spanish words she had picked up from the dictionary. But by the end of the meeting she knew what was and what was not possible.

  Initially, she had wanted to rent it for a year, but he wanted to sell. Due to the poor maintenance he could still come down on the price somewhat he had said with an acted tone of reluctance. Gradually during the tour, she had gotten the impression that he really wanted to get rid of the property quickly, or perhaps had to. Although she saw plenty of opportunities and possibilities to renovate the house and desperately wanted to move to Spain, she could not possibly make an offer yet. There were still too many uncertainties. She would first have to see how Frank’s trial would go before she could make a final decision. Therefore, she came up with a temporary solution. To accommodate the owner, or so she said, she would not rent it for one, but for two years. During that time, she would pay for the cost of the much-needed renovation. After two years, they could discuss the final sale again and could agree on a final price together. After her proposal to the owner was clear, he shrugged his shoulders and said he would think about it and let her know. But his casual farewell revealed his hidden disappointment.

  When she had driven away from the house she had wondered whether she should drive straight back to Barcelona or make a small detour through the Blanes harbor. It seemed as if she was being pulled or drawn toward the place where she had almost lost her life. Was she crazy? Shaking her head she decided to drive straight to Barcelona. The harbor, the house … Why would she want to seek out that place? Was she a glutton for punishment? What was wrong with her? Was she an idiot?

  During the period between her visit to the villa and the start of the court cases, her desire to make a fresh new start gr
ew stronger. She had thrown herself into Spanish lessons after she got home. She had learned the language with an unprecedented kind of fanaticism. The pace of her online teacher had been far more relaxed than her urge to succeed. Although she found the grammar difficult, she could actually carry a fairly decent conversation after a few months.

  40

  Heleen grabbed another olive. She chewed it gently. She put the hard pit in a small bowl next to her plate of salad. That was the last one, she promised herself. Olives were addictive; at least, these olives were. They came straight from the tree, and the jarred olives she often had in the Netherlands could not compete.

  Fruits, vegetables, nuts—everything was always fresh here. If it wasn’t from your own orchard, then there was always a neighbor who would have a piece of land where the products grew. You would also find the most delicious goods at the local markets. Fresh fish, for example. Even the meat tasted better here. But all of that enthusiasm also came from her love for the area. She had lived on a bit of a pink cloud over the past few months, she had to admit.

  She would sometimes refer to herself as a “villa refugee.” She had taken a big step. To move from a fun, modern home to an outdated, freestanding villa with an interior that dated back to the last century. Yet it had been a great move. She was happy in a very pure way, which was unrelated to any money or property. She cherished this intense feeling of vitality every day.

  Heleen cleared the table and went back inside. She emptied her plate and the bowls into the garbage and halfheartedly washed the small dishes. Clean was clean; the dishes didn’t need to shine and sparkle, and there was no need to dry them either. They would dry on their own. She grabbed a bottle of red wine and a glass and casually walked back to the patio. These days, she averaged about two glasses of red wine per night. The twilight didn’t last very long. But she wanted to enjoy the transition between light and dark. Birds were looking for shelter; nocturnal wildlife was beginning to wake up from their deep slumbers and starting to rummage through the hills. Here in her new favorite little spot on earth, nature always had something interesting to offer at any hour of the day.