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Nonna reached into the water and began washing my right foot.
“I can do it,” I said like I had earlier, leaning down to take the cloth she used from her hand.
She shook her head. “Le, err, no.”
I closed my eyes, nearly weeping, and focused on the comfort of her touch, the lilt of her voice as she hummed the way she had on the stairs when she stroked my hair. There was something almost spiritual in her gentleness, as if the simple act was washing away more than the dirt. Instead, it was cleansing my soul, every stroke wiping away more of the horrific memories lodged inside me.
It had been so long since someone was this kind to me. My thoughts drifted back to Cayman, the only person who’d ever treated me the way Nonna was.
It had begun the day I first spoke to him, at his parents’ house in Shere, and had never faltered. Even when I rejected his romantic overtures, the love I’d always felt from him remained steadfast. “Cay,” I whispered quietly enough I doubted Nonna heard me.
His name had become my mantra in the days and weeks I spent in Moretti’s prison. I didn’t dare hope he was looking for me, that he’d find and save me from the horrors I was instinctively certain I’d face.
If I could somehow reach him, I knew he’d come in a heartbeat. That’s what I’d do. I’d call Cayman, admit how stupid and naive I’d been, and beg him to save me. I was about to motion to Nonna to let her know I needed a phone when I heard a female voice call out. “Mama?”
She responded, calling out over her shoulder. I stifled my gasp, coming close to crying in anguish when the door opened and I looked into the eyes of the person who’d been responsible for first drugging me, then shackling me to the bed two nights ago. The one who’d dropped the syringe and begun the chain of events that resulted in my escape.
God could not be so cruel, could he?
11
CAYMAN
When Ares handed me his mobile, I hit replay on the video. In the same way I’d watched Bexli slip out the side door of the villa, I studied her image as she came out of the water. Whatever she was wearing clung tightly to her body, revealing how much weight she’d lost. Bex had always been too thin, in my opinion. Now, she appeared almost deathly so.
She limped as she walked on the sand. No doubt the blood we’d seen trailing her footprints was from cuts on her feet. She sat down briefly, pulling at the fabric near the hem of the garment as if she was trying to tear it, rest, then try again.
After several failed attempts, she stood and walked over to the rubbish bin, digging through it until she pulled out a piece of cloth. She sat down again and wrapped it around her foot before returning to the bin, finding another scrap of fabric, then tying it around the opposite foot.
The video tracked her as she stood and ran into the same street where I was. “She went that way,” I said, pointing to one of the roads on the right. I continued to watch for a few more seconds, as she ducked into an alleyway. The overhead recording ended there. “Is there any more?” I asked Ares, handing over his mobile when he shook his head.
“They’re checking from a higher vector, but so far, nothing.”
“She could still be there,” I said before turning to Poseidon. “Follow me!” I shouted as I ran, retracing the route I’d seen Bexli take.
Poseidon and Ares caught up with me right before I reached the alley.
“Bexli!” I shouted, repeating her name as I made my way through the narrow and dark backstreet. I searched behind every bin and every pile of rubbish I came upon, as did Poseidon and Ares. When it ended at the junction of another thoroughfare, I had Ares check with the NRO again.
“Still nothing. They sent the footage, and no one showed up in this area between the time Bexli ducked into the alley and now.”
“Gather the teams, and split everyone into four groups,” I said to Poseidon. “Check every alleyway, every nook and cranny. Leave nothing unturned. Search everything, everywhere.”
He stepped away, but returned a couple of minutes later. “We’re ready. I’ve assigned one person who speaks Maltese well enough to communicate who we’re looking for to each group,” he reported.
I pulled up the video from the NRO and took a screenshot of Bexli just as she came out of the villa’s door, then sent it to the group leaders. “That’s who we’re looking for. Immediately identify yourselves as law enforcement to anyone you come across.”
“Where do you want us?” Tank asked, approaching with two others.
“You, with us,” Poseidon responded, pointing at him. Then he motioned toward the other teams who’d made their way to where we stood. “Each of you, go with one of them.” He turned to me. “We need to move out. The more time that passes, the farther away she might get.”
There were six in our group, and we spread out on either side of the street. I called Bexli’s name as I traversed each road, each alleyway, not caring in the slightest that it was the middle of the night. Poseidon and the others did the same. When we reached the end of one, we went down another. By the time the sun came up, I estimated we’d crisscrossed and walked at least six kilometers on an island that was fourteen long by seven wide.
The teams had given regular reports through the comms, and so far, none had had any better luck than we did. I hated to pause the search, but other than going door-to-door, I didn’t know where to look next.
“Ares, any updates on the overheads?” I asked.
“Negative on Bexli. However, they were able to pull footage of a private aircraft leaving the island twenty minutes after the SUVs left the villa property.”
