Death by Betrayal (Caribbean Murder #10)

“Of course she’s your sister,” Trage backed off.

“Something else could have happened to her,” Cindy went on. “And only I would recognize it, because I know every little thing about Ann. If there’s an unusual mark that wasn’t there before, I’ll make note that it should be scrutinized.”

“Good enough,” Trage agreed.

“Besides, when will I have a chance to see her again?” Cindy suddenly asked, petulantly.

Trage looked distressed. “I understand,” he replied.

“Really?” Cindy wanted to know.

“Yes, I do,” Trage remarked. “I’m close to every one of my brothers and sisters. If something like this happened to any of them, it would break me in two. I couldn’t do what you’re doing now, Cindy.”

It meant a great deal to Cindy that he understood.

“You’re not alone with this, either, Cindy,” Trage went on. “Your mother and uncle called early this morning. They arrived in Bermuda late last night, staying at the same hotel as you.”

“Do they want to come down here and see Ann, too?” The idea of it relieved Cindy. She wanted the entire family to come and say good-bye, to give Ann the farewell she so richly deserved.

“No, your mother didn’t say that,” Trage answered quickly, “she just mentioned to me that Ann wanted to be cremated.”

A long, slow chill passed through Cindy’s body. She remembered that Ann had mentioned cremation on various occasions.

“That’s right, she did want that,” Cindy replied, “but we can’t do it right away. The body’s a trove of evidence, isn’t it?”

“It’s going to be checked for everything,” Trage assured her. “Forensic pathologists are routinely flown in from Canada and tissue samples are gathered and sent away for further testing.”

Cindy felt some relief at that.

“Have you seen or spoken to your family yet?” Trage continued, obviously upset that Cindy was alone.

The thought of seeing her family hadn’t even crossed Cindy’s mind, though.

“I’m sure they need you,” Trage urged.

“My sister needs me more, first I want to see her,” said Cindy said abruptly, as a tall, heavy set, Caribbean attendant made his way to where Cindy was standing. They looked at each other briefly and without a word he motioned her to follow him,

“I’ll be waiting right here,” Trage called after her, nervously.

Cindy felt a wave of appreciation for Trage’s concern. “Thank you,” she called back, “you’re special, so helpful. It means a lot!”

*

Cindy’s footsteps grew slower and heavier as she trailed behind the attendant to a large, grey door. He opened it and she walked into a small waiting room on the side. Before she even sat down, though, a woman dressed in white trousers and puffy jacket, her face covered with a sterile mask, came into the waiting room and guided Cindy with her into the morgue.

The morgue was a large, cold, antiseptic, and reeked of death. The shock of being in here rolled over Cindy like an enormous, dark wave. For a horrible instant, her knees buckled and she felt herself going under.

“My God,” Cindy uttered.

The woman turned and put her hand on Cindy’s shoulder. “You okay?” she asked.

“I’m okay,” Cindy managed, rallying. “Where’s my sister?”

The woman pointed to the far wall where the bodies were stored in heavy drawers. The two of them walked there slowly and the woman leaned over to one drawer and pulled out Ann. The body was covered by a plain, white cloth but there was a plastic cover over her face. Cindy could still see her.

Ann’s face was fathomless, still, completely grey, only a mask of the beautiful woman she had been. Cindy retched as the room started spinning and felt as if she would vomit.

“Ann, Ann,” Cindy cried out.

The woman turned abruptly and steadied Cindy, as if she were accustomed to this kind of response.

After a few moments Cindy regained her balance. “Show me her wounds,” Cindy pleaded. “I’m a detective and I know that the body holds secrets - speaks loud and clear.”

“Yes, it does, dear,” the woman agreed.

Thankfully, the woman pulled down the edge of the white sheet until Cindy could see Ann’s neck. It was covered with scratches that were wide and jagged and looked as though they’d been made by claws. Cindy stared at them, long and hard.

“These wounds will be checked thoroughly?” Cindy asked the woman. “There’s got to be everything here, DNA here, fingerprints, the works.”

“Absolutely,” the woman agreed. “Don’t worry, we have one of the best forensic teams imaginable. Nothing will be left unexplored.”

Cindy’s heart pounded as she stared at Ann’s neck. “My sister struggled for her life,” she murmured.

“It looks that way,” the woman paused. “I’m sorry.”

“She suffered like hell,” Cindy’s voice grew gritty. “She was overpowered but she knew what was happening. She knew she was dying, I feel it!”

“We don’t have those details yet,” the woman tried to ground Cindy.