by HC Michaels
She’d woken up too early.
She wasn’t meant to wake up at all.
Roberto watched Amelia tap the screen of her iPad.
“Careful!” he warned, worried she might break the glass and cut her finger. “You go light. Just tap, tap. No bang, bang!”
“You talk funny, Nonno,” Amelia said, without looking up.
But her tapping got a little lighter, so at least she’d listened.
“You want to hear me talk in Italian?” he asked her. “My English is rubbish, but Il mio Italiano é bellissimo!”
“Nonno!” Amelia set down the iPad and scampered across the sofa next to him, tucking her little legs underneath herself so she could stare at him. “Say more, Nonno. More!”
He thought about what he could say to this little girl who he loved so much, yet didn’t really know at all. Should he tell her about how worried he was about her mother? Or how much he missed her nonna? Or maybe how heartbreakingly disappointed he was in how her uncle had turned out?
No. Amelia didn’t need to hear anything like that. She was only a little girl.
So, he cleared his throat and in perfect Italian, he told her about what a mess he’d made of his life. He detailed all the mistakes he’d made and how he’d do everything differently if only he could turn back the clock. He spoke of the day Bianca had died and how he’d been meaning to join her in the pool but had decided to mow the lawn instead. He told her about how if he’d only let the grass grow then maybe his precious granddaughter would also have had the chance to grow up.
Amelia yawned and settled beside him, resting her head on his arm. “Talk more, Nonno.”
“Okay, bella. Nonno talk more.” He put his hand on the top of Amelia’s head and smoothed down her curls. This poor girl was so tired after everything that happened in the last couple of days. She even had dark circles underneath her eyes like Elvira got when she was tired.
Lapsing back into his mother tongue, he told her about how proud he was of Elvira. How in awe he’d been of her since the moment she was born, almost too afraid to touch her in case he broke her. Having grown up in a family of boys, he wasn’t sure how to relate to a girl, but that didn’t mean he loved her any less than her brother when he was born. His love was just different.
Amelia’s eyes closed, and Roberto continued to speak. He poured out his heart as he stroked his granddaughter’s hair, and soon, he was sobbing in just the same way Amelia had been when Paul had brought her to his doorstep asking him to watch her.
“I so sorry,” he said, slipping back into English now that Amelia was asleep. “I so sorry.”
Amelia opened her eyes and crawled onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. She pressed her cheek to his and whispered into his ear.
“It’s okay, Nonno,” she said. “Mummy’s just having a big sleep. You didn’t make her sleep.”
Roberto tried his best to get hold of the tremors wracking his body. He had to be strong for this little girl. She needed him, just like Elvira had when they’d moved to Queensland, unable to cope with their own grief, let alone hers.
“Maybe we all have sleep now,” he said, reaching for a throw rug and pulling it over them as he rested his head on a cushion.
“I’m not tired,” said his exhausted granddaughter as she snuggled into his side.
“Then we just rest,” he said, holding her a little tighter.
“Resting is boring,” Amelia protested, although she made no move to get up.
He lay as still as he could, and as Amelia’s breathing deepened and slowed, he allowed himself to close his own eyes, vowing to do better with the years he had left.
No more running away.
It was time to put this family back together again.
It was time to look after not just his granddaughter, but his daughter.
He could do better than this.
Tessa knew something was wrong. Something horribly, horribly wrong.
She couldn’t move her arms. Or her legs. Everything ached and itched and stung. Her wrists especially.
She tried to force her eyes open, but her heavy eyelids wouldn’t cooperate. It felt like there was something covering her face. A blindfold? She couldn’t remember putting a sleeping mask on before she went to bed.
In those few confused seconds of dragging her dreams into reality she was bewildered, but not scared.
As her senses cleared, she took stock of the situation, mentally scanning her body as she tried to figure out why it wasn’t behaving in the way she expected.
Her ankles were tethered to the bed with some kind of cord. Her legs were spread and the cool breeze of the air conditioner was blowing on her, soothing a stinging pain between her thighs. What was that pain? She felt like someone had tried to slice her in half.
Her wrists were tied above her head, her skin rubbing raw from the friction, the searing pain distracting her from what had caused the pain in her groin.
Something had been tied over her eyes. Tightly so she couldn’t see as much as a scrap of light. Her mouth, too, with cloth wedged behind her teeth holding down her tongue.
Her head was foggy in the same way it had been once before when she’d taken a sleeping tablet on a flight and had a bad reaction.
Three things became clear in quick succession. She’d been drugged, stripped of her clothes, and tied to this bed.
The fear didn’t just bite her then, it clutched at her heart and squeezed. If it weren’t for the thudding sound of blood rushing through her brain, she’d be certain her heart might have stopped beating all together.
She resisted the urge to scream, not that she could with this thing in her mouth.
Was whoever did this to her, watching her? Was he sitting there with a grin on his face waiting for her to thrash out and panic?
What did he want? Judging by the pain in her groin he’d almost certainly already taken one thing from her. The thought of that made her want to vomit, but instead she pulled in a deep breath through her nostrils, aware of the likelihood of choking if liquid were to fill her mouth right now.
She quietened her breathing and stilled her movements as she listened for a sign of her captor. If he was there, he was biding his time. Perhaps he’d left her for the maid to find, having taken what he wanted? Was she even still in the hotel or had he taken her someplace else?
Then she heard it. The smallest of sounds. A swallow, followed by a sniff.
He was here.
He hadn’t finished with her yet.
Warm liquid rushed to the sheets as she let go of her bladder.
If he noticed her loss of control, he didn’t act. Keeping the sheets clean was clearly not on his list of priorities. Judging by the pain she was in, the sheets were most likely already covered in her blood and who knew what else. She didn’t want to think about that.
Her body shook, causing the ties that held her wrists to grind against her skin.
She tried to call out to him, to beg for mercy, but managed only a muffled groan. The pain was too much. She couldn’t bear it much longer. If he was going to kill her, then let him do it quickly.
Tears flooded her eyes. She didn’t want to die. She’d only just begun to live. If Tino were here with her, this would never have happened. This man, whoever he was, would never have been able to get near her.
Tino.
Memories of the day before pounded at her head. They were memories she didn’t have time for right now. Tino would have to wait.
There was a loud noise in the room. She couldn’t think with it raging in her ears. She needed a clear head and a quiet mind to figure this out. What was that noise? It sounded like an injured cat.
She reminded herself that Tino was a killer. His DNA had been on that girl. He was in prison.
So, assuming this man here with her now meant to kill her, then there were two killers at work. Despite having convinced herself to believe in coincidences, this was a little too much. Unless this was a copycat? That could happen, couldn’t it?
Or maybe Tino had been let out on bail and it was him sitting there. Did police let people out on bail when they were arrested for murder? It didn’t seem likely. Maybe he’d escaped? How high tech could security be in a remote place like this?
But wouldn’t her hotel be the first place the police would come looking for him?
The noise continued to ring in her ears. What was it? It was getting louder.
“Shhh!” the man hissed, the room seeming to shake with the intensity of his hushing.
The noise stopped. She felt cold air catch in her throat and burn as she realised she’d been the one who’d been making the noise.
She felt her captor come closer. She could smell the strange scent of him. It was the smell of power, adrenaline and…fear. Was he afraid, too?
He put his hand on her cheek and she turned away, wincing as the movement tugged on her wrists.
This wasn’t Tino. She was ashamed she’d so much as entertained the thought. This man didn’t smell like him, didn’t sound like him, didn’t feel like him.
Did that mean Tino was innocent? Was this the man who’d killed Lena Markovic?
At that moment she didn’t care who it was or what he’d done to anyone else. All she cared about was the pain in her wrists, the indignity of being laid bare in front of his vile human, the knowledge that nobody was coming to save her any time soon.
He trailed a finger over her blindfold, and she shook her head, not wanting him to take it off. If she saw his face, it was all over. He’d have to kill her then. That blindfold was her only chance at getting out of this alive.
His hand moved to her mouth and she nodded, doing her best in her incapacitated state to beg him to remove her gag.
“Will you be quiet?” His voice was a whisper, making it hard to recognise. It did seem familiar though…
She nodded, desperate for her mouth to be free.
Something cold and sharp pressed against her neck. A knife. It had to be a knife.
He dragged the knife across her throat, letting her know exactly what would happen if she wasn’t quiet. The pressure he’d used wasn’t enough to break the skin, but enough to make his point.
He took hold of the tape across her mouth and pulled, not slowly like a mother removing a band-aid from her child, but slowly so it stretched her skin and stung.
She spat out whatever had been in her mouth and stretched her jaw, running her dry tongue across her chafed lips.
His hands were on her face again, his fingers trailing down her neck to her breasts.
“Please don’t kill me,” she begged.
He pressed his mouth against her ear.
“Not yet,” he whispered.
She screamed, using all her force to project the sound from her lungs. What was the point in staying quiet? Why should she do what he said if he planned to kill her anyway? Let him do it now or let someone come to her rescue. She was not going to lie here like this for another moment with his hands on her breasts.
A sharp series of blows rained down on her face. She was powerless to stop it. Her hands strained at the cords that bound her and she winced, closing her eyes to the pain and terror.
Her world went black as she slipped into the salvation of her unconscious mind.
Tessa’s captor exhaled.
At last, she was quiet. For a moment he thought he’d killed her, but her shallow breathing indicated otherwise.
He’d told her not to scream. He couldn’t have been clearer with her unless he’d carved it into her chest.
What had she thought she was doing? Now she’d ruined everything.
He’d either have to kill her now or leave her like this. Whatever he decided, he didn’t have much time. Surely someone had heard. He needed to get out of here.
Her face was a mess. Pity. She’d been so pretty before this.
He let his eyes trail down her naked body, noticing the bruises he’d left when he’d forced himself inside her. He’d been hoping to have the chance to do that again. His cock was twitching just looking at her lying there like that.
It wasn’t as much fun when he wasn’t making them squirm and scream. Lena had done that. She’d scratched him and beaten her pathetic fists at his chest, but her tiny frame hadn’t been a match for him.
He hadn’t meant to kill her, but she just wouldn’t keep still. He hadn’t even realised he’d been holding her head under the water until after he was done with her, having assumed her limp body was a sign of compliance rather than defeat.
He’d met Lena earlier in the evening when she was sitting by the pool looking at the stars with her two friends lying nearby asleep on the sun lounges.
They’d talked for a while and soon her polite conversation became wild flirtation. She was clearly into him, and he was keen to find a way to get into her.
Saying he was hot, he’d stripped down to his underwear and slipped into the pool, begging her to follow him.
She was reluctant at first, not wanting to break the pool rules by swimming out of hours, but when he pouted, throwing her his full charm offensive, she succumbed, removing her dress, and joining him in the water, wearing only her panties and a tight-fitting singlet.
That singlet had both annoyed him and driven him wild. Her leaving it on showed that she was a good girl. And there was nothing more enticing than a good girl. But it was also covering those pert little breasts.
He’d led her towards a bridge that crossed to a central island in the pool where it was dark and private.
Her kisses had been shy yet tentative, turning him on in ways he couldn’t describe.
Then she’d swum away from him, and he wasn’t going to have that. She owed him more than a kiss after teasing him like that.
So, he took what was his.
He jumped as a loud knock sounded at the door.
“Shit.”
He had the do not disturb sign on the door, but clearly Tessa’s screams had overridden his request for privacy.
He slid out of his clothes and left them in a pile on the plush carpet.
Thankfully, this suite didn’t allow a view of the bed from the doorway. He’d be alright unless Tessa woke up. If that happened, he was done for.
Wrapping one towel around his head to obscure the top part of his face, and another around his waist, he put on a medical face mask, thankfully not uncommon these days in a place like this. He turned off the lights and opened the door a crack to find a man in a suit peering at him.
“Yes?” He closed the door a little further, so it was only open the smallest of cracks and crept back a little into the darkness.
“Is everything all right in here?” the manager asked, bouncing slightly on his heels as his gaze darted around trying to avoid his nakedness. “We had reports of…noise.”
“Oh my god. I’m so embarrassed,” he said in his best American accent. “It’s my girlfriend, Tessa. She gets a little carried away sometimes.”
He used Tessa’s name intentionally, knowing the room was booked in her name.
“Oh.” The manager turned crimson in the light of the passageway, his bouncing heels doing nothing to drain the blood from his face.
“We’ll try to keep it down. Sorry.” He closed the door.
“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered, wondering how much of a look the manager got of him. The guy hadn’t even made eye contact, he’d been so distracted by his lack of clothes.
He needed to get out of here. This was only going to get worse. His only hope was to get off the island before Tessa woke up and shot off that big mouth.
3 Days Before The Break
Paul blamed himself. He wasn’t being a martyr. It was his fault Elvira took the overdose.
He’d always worried about those sleeping pills. He’d seen the way she looked at them, running her fingers over the tiny bumps in their foil packet like she was reading a love letter written in braille. But what could he have done? Taken them away from her like she was a child? If it hadn’t been th
e sleeping pills, she’d have found something else to flood her system with.
So, whether or not he took away her pills made no difference. The difference was that he’d left the apartment when he knew she was vulnerable. And what made that even worse was that he hadn’t even returned until the next night. He had no idea that while Elvira had been unconscious on the bathroom floor, Amelia had been wandering around the apartment, wondering if her parents had left her along with her beloved Tessa.
Paul had been so angry with Elvira for what she did to Tessa that he couldn’t stand to be in the same room as her. When she’d tried to seduce him, something inside him had snapped.
All these years he’d been tiptoeing around her, being calm and supportive and she’d barely wanted to touch him. As soon as he dared to disagree with her, she was all over him. Was that the problem with their marriage? Was he too bloody nice? If he’d stood up to her sooner would their marriage be in the state it was now, or would they have six kids and spend their days messing up their bed instead of their lives?
He started to see Elvira had opened her eyes and was staring at him. She’d been moved out of intensive care onto a ward. Paul got the impression they were meant to be grateful for managing to get her one of the only private rooms at Proserpine Hospital.
“Hey,” he said, leaning forward and gripping her hand.
She looked so small in the hospital bed with the sheets tucked up under her arms. Her fringe had been swept from her forehead, elongating her face, and dark rings lined her eyes. It saddened him that someone so capable had been reduced to this vulnerable mess. Worse still, she’d been the one to do it to herself.
If Bianca had lived long enough to know what she wanted in life, he was certain she wouldn’t have wanted her mother to be like this.
Bianca’s life had been short, but the impact of her having been here was huge. Elvira was a different person now. So was he, despite his great efforts to pretend he was the same. If Bianca had never been born, Elvira’s parents wouldn’t have moved to Sunshine Island. Maybe his mother-in-law would still be alive. Tino wouldn’t have moved overseas either.