With it go hisList of Suspicious Happeningsand all his investigation notes, along with hisBlack Orchid Passport.
Carter’s limp body swings the opposite way—whirls—and slams against the ship again. Held only by the iron grip around his ankle, his consciousness fades. Before he blacks out completely, he sees a big shape come over the railing beside him, and plunge down past him. Carter glimpses a blur of black velvet, a flash of red silk, a glitter of sequins. Rings flash like stars. A huge bird. A winged beast. A Dracula launching into the Santorini winds.
Before Carter can properly register what he’s seeing, he hears a deep splash far below—then his head cracks against the steel side of the ship again, and everything goes white.
It’s Criminal:
The Mystery of theBlack Orchid
A Trinity Scott & Gio Rossi True Crime Production
Reenactment—Karamidos And His Donkey At The Cove
Manolis Karamidos guides his old wooden fishing boat back toward the pebbled cove where his donkey is tethered.
In the bottom of the boat lies the little yellow backpack.
He’s left the woman floating in the swells, lying cruciform in her glittering gown of emerald-green sequins and her silver mask still in place. He left behind the blond man with the gaping gash across his temple.
Other masks drift in the water near his boat. Silver, gold, bronze. They reflect the rising sun like mirrors playing with light as the sea—now soft and gentle—breathes and folds with the dawn.
But a chill has entered Manolis’s very bones. He feels it even as he beaches the boat, climbs out, and begins dragging it up over the stones.
Ever since those earthquakes began—those strange swarms of tremors—nothing has felt right. Nothing has been the same.
It’s as though the shaking earth opened a rift fathoms below the sea, rousing ancient souls—awakened now to curse or toy with those who dare enter their caldera.
When he feels his boat is high enough on the beach, beyond the reach of the tide, Manolis makes the sign of the cross once more. Then he reaches into his boat, lifts out the yellow backpack, and carries it toward his patiently waiting donkey.
Carter
Pain blurs the edges of Carter’s mind as he regains consciousness. It takes him a moment to realize where he is—dangling upside down above the sea, held only by his ankle. His head pounds from rushing blood.
Something made him wake, but he closes his eyes again, slipping once more into the whiteness of peace and no pain. Then he hears shouting—snatches of words, a man’s voice. Big, bold. Desperate.
“Hang on, Carter!”
Gramps.
Gramps is holding his ankle.
“Help, somebody help us! Please!”
Gramps is straining to pull him up. He’s tugging hard on his leg. Carter’s other leg dangles free. He’s helpless. He can’t find anything to grasp hold of.
“Hang on, Carter! For God’s sake, hang on!”
Gramps heaves until he manages to maneuver Carter’s hips up to the edge of the railing. He grabs him around the waist and gives him a heavy tug. Together they thud down onto the wet deck. Gramps wraps his big arms around Carter, holds tight. Carter feels him shaking—the old man is crying, gasping for breath.
“Thank God,” he whispers against Carter’s ear. “I’m so sorry, my boy. Thank the Lord for giving me the strength to pull you back. I should ... I should never ... have brought ...”
His arms slacken. They fall away from Carter. His grandfather slumps onto his side, then sinks to the deck. His head hits with a dull thump. His mouth hangs open.
Carter realizes with a jolt of horror that his grandfather is covered in blood. His white dinner shirt is saturated with it. The blood is all over Carter, too. He holds out his hands—they’re slick, crimson. He’s sitting in a thick, shiny pool of blood.
Carter’s heart clean stops. His body begins to shake so hard he can’t think or breathe, and nothing seems real, and it’s all slow motion again.
Under the roar of wind, the clang of metal, and the groan of the ship, a new sound rises—boots pounding. Along the deck. Coming closer. Men shouting. Louder. Closer. Two brilliant spotlights bob toward him. They flood him and Gramps with blinding white light. The blood gleams under the glare.
