“We have to find out more about your sister,” Trage went on. “Did she have any enemies?”
Cindy wiped her face with the back of her hand, and looked up. “Definitely not. Everyone loved her. Ann never had an enemy her whole life long.”
“She obviously did though,” Trage replied. “We just don’t know who yet.”
Chapter 4
Even though Cindy didn’t want to leave Ann’s room, ever, Trage finally insisted that she go to the room reserved for her, down the hall.
“It’s been the worst day of your life,” he said, as he carried her luggage and dropped it off. “Try to sleep, get some rest. You won’t be any good without it. We’ll get together first thing in the morning and get right back on the case then.”
The worst day of her life? Yes, it was; right up there with the day she found Clint, dead on the beach in Barbados on their honeymoon. How was it possible this nightmare was happening again? One by one those she loved were snatched from her.
“Is the room okay? Are you comfortable in it?” Trage asked, before leaving her alone. “Anything else I can get you?”
“It’s fine,” said Cindy, not bothering to look around. She’d been in so many hotel rooms, they all blurred into one. All that mattered now was finding out what happened to Ann and also helping Frank. It was awful that he was being held. It was crazy.
“First thing tomorrow morning I want to see Frank in jail,” Cindy said to Trage then, in no uncertain terms.
“You got it,” Trage replied. “Anything else I can do?”
Cindy softened for a brief moment. Trage was a fine guy, he was trying his best, caught in a tight spot with Cindy demanding to be involved in solving her sister’s murder.
“No, thank you so much for everything,” Cindy came to herself. “You’ve been a real help. I appreciate it.”
Trage seemed pleased to hear that. “That’s what I do this job for,” he replied. “I’m here to help you, Cindy.”
Cindy felt grateful. “Thank you,” she murmured again, as he turned and left for the night.
Finally, alone in her room, Cindy fell onto the sofa, buried her head in the pillows and sobbed and sobbed until she could barely breathe. How would she ever sleep again? How would she be able to wake up fresh in the morning and get on the case, clear headed? It felt by now as though it were the middle of the night. She had to sleep, had to put her grief on the back burner until she found out what happened to Ann. There would be no way to live until she did, and there was no one else she could trust with the case, either.
Cindy got up, went into the bathroom, dried her eyes, splashed cold water over her face, took off her clothes and got into a hotel robe. She had to sleep. Ann needed her to. Or else, she’d be no good for anything. Somehow or other Cindy managed to crawl to her bed, slip beneath the covers, and let herself fall into a quick, deep sleep.
*
The bright morning sunlight shone in on Cindy, waking her swiftly. Confused, for a moment, she looked around the room. Where was she? Not in Oyster Bay any longer. It took a second to recollect all that had happened and where she was now.
“Oh my God, Ann,” Cindy called out, jumped up, got out of bed, ran to her suitcase, opened it and clawed through the clothing. It was morning, she had to dress immediately, have a quick breakfast and get to the jail to talk to Frank. Not a second to lose.
Before Cindy dressed she called down for coffee and eggs to be brought to the room. She wanted to get right over to the jail, not waste time in a restaurant.
The food came quickly, before she was finished dressing and Cindy gulped it down, dragged a brush through her hair and called Trage.
“I’m on my way down to the station to see Frank,” she announced the moment he picked up the phone. “Get him ready.”
“He’s ready,” Trage responded.
“Thanks,” said Cindy.
“Wait a minute,” said Trage, “how are you, did you sleep?”
Cindy was taken aback at the concern in his voice. “I slept, I had breakfast and I’m on the way to the station,” Cindy shot back.
“You’re something else, Cindy,” Trage said softly.
*
The cab wound through the beautiful streets of Bermuda easily, arriving at the police station in no time at all. Along with everything else Cindy’d seen so far, the police station was housed in a modern, clean, well designed, well-tended building. Bermuda was upscale in every way, an idyllic place on the ocean, which seemed to have everything running flawlessly. There was a sense of order and safety here that helped a visitor relax. But this place wasn’t safe, it wasn’t idyllic. Her sister had been killed here, laying on her beautifully appointed bed.
Cindy paid the driver and raced into the building. Frank was being held here and she couldn’t wait to talk to him.
Trage was calmly waiting for Cindy at the main entrance. “Good morning,” he said, trying to take the edge off and create a semblance of normality. Trage had a stalwart way about him that Cindy appreciated.