HER FINAL WORD (JACK RYDER Book 6) Read online

  "You brought a scale? On vacation?"

  Emily looked at it, then swallowed.

  "Why? Why would you bring a scale? Is that why you won't eat? Because you think you gained weight?"

  "I have to keep track, okay? I can't just let go and not care like you can. I have to keep track…"

  I turned around and pulled out a notebook from her suitcase as well. I flipped the pages, then felt like crying.

  "You've been making graphs? This is hours…how many times do you weigh yourself during the day?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know."

  "Yes, you do know. It's all in here. Today you weighed yourself…every hour? Every freakin' hour, Emily? Why?"

  She was about to cry, I could tell, but then she forced it away. "You wouldn't understand."

  "Then explain it to me. Please, just tell me why you need to do this."

  Emily looked down, then lifted the headphones.

  "Don't you dare put that on, Emily; don't you dare!"

  But she did. She put them on, then turned on the video and completely blocked me out. I stomped my feet angrily, grabbed the car keys and my phone, and left. I slammed the door and ran down the hall, fighting to hold back my screams.

  28

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  I did scream. In the car. I yelled my anger out, screaming at Emily and screaming all my frustrations out while slamming my hand into the steering wheel.

  The anger was soon replaced by tears. I drove away from the hotel and down by the harbor where another big cruise ship had taken over from the one that had brought Nancy Elkington and her family to the island. I wondered how many hours we had left before the story was all over the media back home. I knew the police feared that more than anything, and I was afraid they'd make some hasty arrest just to let the Americans know they had things under control. If they did, they would also close the case, and we would never find who had taken Nancy. We would never find Nancy.

  I drove past the cruise ship terminals, then went up through downtown Nassau. I drove past the American Embassy then back down past Straw Market while wondering about Nancy. Where could she be? Seeing how many people walked in and out, I wondered if no one really had seen her being carried out.

  Her parents had put up posters in some places, asking the public if they had seen this girl?

  My heart sank when thinking of them. Where were they now? Still searching the streets, asking each and every person they met if they had seen their daughter, or were they sitting in their hotel room holding each other tight, worrying how to get through the night?

  The thought made me accelerate past the market and continue through town, tears streaming across my cheeks. Not only for Nancy but also for Emily. Somewhere out there, Nancy was crying for someone to help her, whereas back here was Emily not wanting my help.

  "I give up," I said to myself, then grabbed my phone and called Shannon.

  "Hi, babe," she said.

  I drove on, exhaling deeply to the sound of her voice.

  "Jack? What's wrong?"

  "I…I think it was a bad idea, coming here. We should never have left."

  "Calm down, Jack. Tell me what's going on."

  "We had the best talk, the best hour or so where we talked about the case," I said.

  "The one involving Emily's relative?" she asked. "The one you told me about last night?"

  "Yes. We’ve been working on it all day…well, something else came up for me as well, but we were talking about it, bonding so well and she was…she was almost herself, Shannon. She was just like my sweet old Emily again. We laughed and shared ideas and enjoyed each other…"

  "That's great," she said. "Isn't it?"

  "It was. It was more than that. It was wonderful. It made me feel so good, like I had finally had a breakthrough, but then…then I asked her if we should go eat."

  "And she said no?"

  "Not only that, I found a scale. In her suitcase. Along with a notebook. You should have seen it, Shannon. It was full of graphs and notes on what she ate, even if she drank a glass of water she would weigh herself. She monitored herself every hour. Every freakin' hour."

  Shannon sighed. "It's getting worse."

  "I…I don't know what to do. I was afraid I would say something that would hurt her, so I just left. I’m out driving now. Leaving Nassau town as we speak. I don't want to go back to her. I am so angry, Shannon, what am I to do?"

  "First of all, you don't get to give up, you hear me? It is not a possibility. She's your kid. You never gave up on me, even when I had a setback a few months ago. Not when I was drinking, not when I was high on pills, you never gave up. You can't give up on her either. Second, I would say you celebrate what happened today. You did have a breakthrough, even if it was one step forward and two steps back. That's how this type of thing works, Jack. It was the same with me, remember? You and Emily experienced something together today; you bonded, and you found the old Emily. That means she is still there, Jack. And you can find her again. If you don't give up."

  I sighed deeply, knowing she was right.

  "Thank you," I said. "I needed to hear that."

  "Glad to be able to help, honey. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go get Tyler. He just climbed out of bed, again. I swear he is trying to drive me nuts. I can hear his feet running around up there. Does he really think I won't hear him when he's bumping around like that? He'll never make a very good criminal."

  I chuckled. "You better go get him then, before he gets himself into trouble."

  "Oh, he is already in trouble," Shannon said. "Big time. Can you believe it? He stole Abigail's phone earlier today and threw it in the toilet. Good thing those phones are waterproof now, huh? But, needless to say, he's not very popular with his big sister right now."

  I laughed, suddenly missing them all so terribly. I remembered Emily when she was that age and was filled with a ton of warm memories. She had always been so well-behaved, though. Never got herself into any trouble, not even when in school. She had been the sweetest little thing with her unruly curls and deep brown eyes. Gosh, I loved her.

  Why did they have to grow up?

  "Don't be too hard on him," I said. "He's the last one. They get extra slack, remember? That's part of the package."

  "We'll see about that," Shannon said with a light laugh, then hung up. As she did, I looked at the phone while I put it down for one unforgiving second. When I looked up, I saw a young boy standing in the road, caught like a deer in my headlights.

  I hit the brakes as hard as I could and turned the wheel at the same time. The car skidded sideways and slowed down, but I still hit him. The sound of my car bumping into his small body was the worst sound in the world.

  29

  Bahamas, July 1983

  She was brought back. Less than two days after she had run away from them at the playground, Gabrielle was back at the house. The girl was lying on the mattress in her room where she had been put after the beating. She could barely move still, but as she heard the screams and yelling outside her door, she lifted her head and looked up. Seconds later, Carla unlocked the door to her room and came rushing inside.

  "You have to come. They're gathering all of us in the kitchen. They need you there."

  The girl lifted her gaze and looked up at Carla, who too bore visible signs of the beating she had received. The skin on her arms was swollen and frayed. The girl guessed her back looked very similar. It was very painful; that was for sure.

  "I…I can't," the girl said.

  "You have to," Carla said. "You know you do, come."

  Carla went to her and tried to help her get up, but the girl whined in pain.

  "You must," Carla said. "I don't know what she'll do to you if you're not there. Please, come."

  Carla pulled her arm over her shoulder and lifted the girl up, then carried her out of the room, her face torn in deep pain as her hurting arms carried the girl into the kitchen. The girl looked at Carla's face and knew at t
hat moment that she was forever in debt to her.

  As she put her down on the floor, The White Lady fluttered inside, her dress flying in the wind behind her. She looked at each and every one of them, her nostrils flaring. Gabrielle was standing in the middle, shaking. The White Lady's son, Dylan was standing behind his mother as she faced Gabrielle.

  "Have I not taken you in when you needed it the most, huh? You wanna run? You wanna get away from this place? Is that the way you show gratefulness for everything I have done for you? You're illegal, my dear. You're in this country illegally. No one cares what happens to you. If you're arrested, you'll be thrown in jail. Do you know what jail is like in this place? Well, it's a lot worse than here, I can tell you that much. And once they put you in there, they'll forget about you. You'll rot in that hellhole. I saved you from that fate when I picked you up at the harbor. I took care of you. I have given you a roof over your head; I make sure you eat, that you have a bed to sleep in. And this is how you repay me? You want to have freedom? You have no rights. People who come here illegally have no rights at all. If you don't behave, if you don't obey me, then I see no other solution than to call for an immigration officer. And do you know what he will do to you? You'll be lucky if he only throws you in jail and loses the key. He might as well kill you and bury you outside of town in a field with all the other illegal aliens. I am really saving you here. I am helping you out."

  The White Lady snorted and looked at all of them.

  "That goes for all of you in here. There is nowhere you can run. This is your home now."

  Gabrielle started to cry, holding a hand to her face. The White Lady gave her a disgusted look.

  "Get down on your knees," she said.

  Gabrielle answered with another sob.

  "Get down on your knees, I said," The White Lady repeated. "I want you to beg for forgiveness."

  Gabrielle sobbed again, then looked up at the woman in front of her.

  "On your knees!"

  The White Lady clenched her fist. Sobbing deeply, Gabrielle fell to her knees.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I am so sorry!"

  The White Lady snorted and looked down at the weeping Gabrielle. It wasn't until now that the girl noticed Gabrielle had bruises all over and that her nose was bleeding.

  The White Lady looked at two of the women standing behind Gabrielle, their heads bent.

  "Take her to the shed," she said.

  "NO!" Gabrielle wailed and threw herself on the tiles. "Please, no!"

  30

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  It was my luck that I wasn't going very fast. As soon as the car came to a halt, I jumped out and ran to the boy lying in the street. My heart was pounding in my chest as I prayed to God that he wasn't dead.

  Please let him be all right.

  When I saw that he was moving and heard him moan, I felt a wave of relief rush through my body. I knelt next to him as he lay on the side of the road.

  "Are you okay, kid?"

  The boy looked at me. I scanned his body quickly for any blood gushing out, in case an artery had burst somewhere or if he had been badly hurt somehow but found none. A few scrapes on his arms were bleeding, but that was all.

  "Can you sit up?" I asked.

  He nodded, then rose his torso to an upright position. He felt his side, and I realized that was where I had hit him. Probably bruised a few ribs, maybe even broke them. The boy lifted his shirt, and he had a bad bruise there. I grimaced, my stomach in a thousand knots.

  "I am so, so sorry," I said and helped him up on his feet. "I am so sorry. I feel awful."

  "I'm okay," the boy said with a strained look to his face.

  "No, let me take you to the hospital," I said. "We need to make sure nothing is broken. You could have some bleeding in places we can't see. I don't want to risk…"

  The boy shook his head. "No. No hospital."

  "No hospital? But…you really should go…You took quite the blow there; there's no telling what might have been damaged…"

  He shook his head again.

  "No."

  I sighed, then looked behind him as I spotted a flock of birds, black vultures circling the bushy area behind him. Their presence had my attention immediately, and I felt a chill go down my spine.

  Something dead was in there behind those bushes.

  Was that why the boy was running? Did he see something?

  I turned to ask him for answers but found nothing but the empty road behind me. I checked my surroundings a few times to see if I could find him, but he was gone.

  Dang it.

  Curious to see what the birds were so interested in, I pressed through the thick bushes and, as I walked closer, I realized the stench of death was all around me. In this heat, the smell was overwhelming and almost suffocating. I stopped when I reached water and wild growing mangrove. Lying beneath the mangroves, stuck in the roots, was the body of a young woman. She was naked and looked peaceful as she lay there in the mushy water. It was hard to recognize her features in the bruised and swollen face, but the long blonde hair floating in the water gave her identity away.

  It had to be Nancy Elkington.

  31

  Nassau, Bahamas, October 2018

  "You say he just took off? I don't understand."

  Commissioner Maycock gave me a look. It was the third time he had asked about the boy, and he was beginning to sound like he didn't quite believe he even existed.

  "Yes," I said and looked in the direction I had last seen the boy. We were standing on the side of the road. They had blocked the area off while searching it and securing the body from the water. "I ran into him with my car, and I told him I would take him to the hospital, but he didn't want to go."

  "Have you been drinking?" Maycock asked.

  I sighed. "No, for the fourth time, I didn't drink anything. I was upset because I had a fight with my daughter. Listen, I am tired, can I please go back now?"

  "So you can leave the country?" he asked.

  Now it was my turn to give the man a puzzled look. "You're accusing me of something here?"

  "How did you know the body was in there?" Maycock asked, not answering my question.

  I felt like screaming but held it back. "I told you. There was a boy…"

  "And that boy conveniently just vanished into thin air," Maycock interrupted me.

  "You're kidding me. You think I’m lying?"

  "I think you have a very good cover, Mr. Ryder, being a detective on vacation, and I also think you're very clever."

  I sighed and rubbed my forehead. "There was a boy. I am not making this up."

  "Americans like to come here and cause lots of trouble, thinking they can get away with it. The fact is, Mr. Ryder, we don't know anything about you, do we? We don't know why you are really here. We allowed you to read the autopsy, and you got ideas, didn't you? To cut out her tongue the way someone did to Miss Ella Maria Chauncey, am I right?"

  This is a freaking joke; this man is a joke!

  I exhaled. "Are you charging me with anything? Otherwise, I would like to go now. My daughter is alone back at the hotel."

  "If you even have a daughter," he said.

  "Am I under arrest?" I asked.

  "Not yet," Maycock said. "But don't leave the island."

  "You know where to find me," I said and left with an annoyed moan.

  I got into my car and drove back toward the hotel. I had called Emily and told her what happened and that I was going to be back late, but I had never imagined it would be past midnight before I got back to her. I rushed into town and drove through the now-empty small streets, wondering about Nancy Elkington and her poor parents. I couldn't stop thinking about what Maycock had told me.

  Nancy had her tongue cut out just like Ella Maria Chauncey. It had to be the same killer, didn't it? And that meant Emily was right. Sofia was innocent. I hadn't fully believed it earlier, but now I did.

  32

  Lyford Cay, Bahamas, October 20
18

  Henry Sakislov greeted us in the hallway of his enormous mansion. I thought I had seen it all when visiting the Chauncey's, but this was extreme. It was too much for my taste.

  I had called that morning, asking to meet with him, telling him I was investigating the killing of Ella Maria Chauncey. I hadn't expected him to, but he had agreed to see me. I had also told him to bring his father, but he was out of town.

  Henry was a real looker and had one of those smiles that made the girls fall for him instantaneously. Emily was no different. When he shook her hand, I noticed the nervous tic around her mouth as she tried to smile. I knew her well enough to know that she thought he was cute.

  We sat in the living room, and a woman served us coffee. I knew most Bahamians either worked in the tourist industry taking care of wealthy American tourists or worked for the wealthy Americans who chose to live on the islands, taking care of their every need, whether it was gardening or housekeeping. I didn't like how it sort of reminded me of colonialism, and I especially didn't like for Emily to experience this. I had always made a big deal of her being equal to the rest of us, even though it was hard for her never to experience racism even in Florida. It hadn't happened much in school, but it was the little things. Like how all the black kids sat together at lunch or the teacher only calling on her for easy questions. It didn't take her long to realize she was different, and that broke my heart. Now, I feared she would see it again being in a place where there was a pronounced difference between races.

  "Thank you so much," I said to the woman who served us the coffee, trying hard to make sure that she knew I appreciated her and noticed her. The woman nodded shyly. As she put down the bowl of chocolates, I noticed she winced like she was in pain. I looked at her wrist and noticed it was badly bruised.

  "How did you get that?" I asked.