Bentz flew out of Hayes’s 4Runner the minute it stopped. Ignoring the barrier, he found a policeman in charge and demanded, “The body inside the vehicle. Who is it?” he demanded, frantic. Oh, dear God…
“Who the hell are you?”
Bentz pulled out his badge just as Hayes and Martinez showed up and identified themselves. Satisfied, the officer said, “We don’t know. The body’s already been taken to the morgue, but I gotta tell ya, it’ll be hard to make an ID.”
Bentz thought he might be sick. “A woman?” he asked.
“We think so. There was ID with her, most of it consumed in the fire, but she had a badge with her. It’s pretty blackened, but I already checked the numbers. It belongs to the owner of the car, Officer Sherry Petrocelli. I’m thinking it’s her body we found in the backseat.”
Bentz nearly sank to the ground in relief. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists, trying to get a grip on his own sanity. Desperately he clung to a thread of hope that Olivia hadn’t met such a horrible, grisly end.
Yet, with that relief came an onslaught of guilt. Someone had died tonight. If not Sherry Petrocelli, then some other woman who had parents, possibly children, a husband, or friends who loved her. And he knew, deep down, that the victim was dead because of him. Because of his ego, his obsession with his first wife. His tunnel vision about Jennifer had brought death to several women and thrust his wife into harm’s way. Someone had personally damned him to a living hell.
“I have to see,” he said to Hayes, his voice rough, his teeth clenched.
“What?”
“I have to see the body.”
“You’re sure about this?” Hayes obviously disagreed. Shook his head.
“I need to know, Jonas. You understand.”
“No I don’t. For the love of God, Bentz, this ain’t gonna be pretty.” Hayes was still shaking his head, then seemed to realize he wasn’t going to dissuade his mule-headed friend. “All right, I’ll take you. But, for the record, I think this is a big mistake. Shit man. Oh, hell. We’ll do it and afterward, then we’ll pick up the rental and you can go back to the motel and get some sleep. You look like hell.”
At the morgue, the Assistant Coroner tried to warn them. Her preliminary examination indicated that the Jane Doe’s fingerprints had been burned beyond recognition. Eighty percent of the body had been charred, and there were no visible scars or tattoos. “We’ll probably use dental records to confirm her ID,” she said.
Still, Bentz had to see for himself.
The attendant, a different one from the person who’d pulled back the sheet on Fortuna Esperanzo hours before, waited for a sign from Hayes.
Bentz braced himself as a thunderous sound like a train in a tunnel roared through his brain. Powered by dread, it clamored down his spine and caused the back of his throat to turn to dust. What if he were wrong? What if the stiff, blackened body hidden by the thin sheet was actually Olivia? Oh God, no! He nearly backed down, but clenched his fists and set his jaw.
With a nod from Hayes, the attendant drew back the cover.
“Oh, shit,” Martinez said and turned away.
Hayes winced.
Bentz’s stomach roiled at the sight of burned flesh and white, staring eyes. Singed hair surrounded a nearly unrecognizable face. Teeth visible through blackened burned lips.
“Not Olivia,” Bentz said, swallowing back the bile rising in his throat. He was certain. Felt relief tinged with guilt. Thank God she hadn’t suffered the fear and pain this poor woman had endured.
“It’s Petrocelli,” Hayes said. “Officer Sherry Petrocelli. Oh, man, I wasn’t expecting that.” He was shaken, his lips flat against his teeth as he motioned for the attendant to cover the scorched remains again. “I know they found her ID, but somehow I didn’t believe it.” Hayes wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of one hand. “Her husband needs to know. I guess I’d better make the notification.”
“I’ll go with you,” Martinez offered, casting a horrified glance at the draped gurney as it was rolled away. “What a friggin’ nightmare. I hope to holy hell she was already dead when that car was ignited.”
“Amen,” Hayes agreed. He took one last look at the gurney then said, “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll take you to pick up that car if the rental place is still open. Then Martinez and I will go and give Jerry Petrocelli the bad news.” He let out a long sigh. “God I hate this.”
“You and me both,” Martinez said.
The pink light of dawn was just streaking through the small port-hole in the hull of the ship, a tiny window Olivia hadn’t noticed until daylight began to stream into the foul place. Vermin had taken over the boat during the night. The sounds of tiny feet on the floorboards and claws scratching at the wood had accompanied the creaks and moans of the boat moving slightly on the water. At one time during the pre-dawn hours Olivia had thought she heard someone come aboard. But if that had been the case, no one had hurried down the stairs to either rescue or attack her, despite her yells and screams.
She’d barely slept. Her nerves had been jangled all night, expecting the boat to be ignited into a hideous conflagration that would kill her with deadly smoke, squeezing the air from her lungs, or, worse yet, burning her alive.
She couldn’t let that happen. And yet, when she closed her eyes it overcame her…the horror, the pain. She saw her skin crinkling and charring, felt her muscles and tissue consumed by hungry, excruciating flames. Her eyelashes and hair would singe as she screamed deep in the belly of this empty boat.
And no one would ever hear her.
The vision was so horrifying, so vividly real that Olivia tried to keep her eyes open. Even the grim reality of this dank, smelly hold was preferable to the images her willing mind conjured.
However, facing reality meant dealing with the inevitable. Olivia knew she would have to fight. When the time came, she would have to attack the woman who had detained her here. She’d rather take her chances against a knife or gun rather than be caged like an animal, forced to wait while the sick bitch decided her fate.
At least now, after enough hours, not only was her brain working again, but her limbs were doing what she asked of them and she felt no residual effects from the stun gun.
As the sun rose, she tried to plot her escape. She refused to be intimidated by a weapon if her abductor brandished one. Let her try.
Who was this sick, deadly woman?
What did she want?
Why was she holding Olivia prisoner?
Worse yet, what did she have planned?
Nothing good, Olivia knew that much.
And that scared her to death.
Don’t let it paralyze you. Think, Olivia. Figure out how to get out of here. You’re a smart woman and there are tools available. You just have to figure out how to retrieve them, use them.
She eyed her surroundings, but they were sparse, only cluttered by bits or debris and rat droppings that confirmed the presence of tiny beasts living in the nooks and crevices of the boat. Great. She tried not to dwell on the vermin. She assumed that she was in a cargo hold of some kind, locked in a cage used for hauling animals. She was supposed to use the bucket to relieve herself, the jug for drinking water.
She hadn’t used either.
So far.
But that would change soon.
A mop hung on one of the walls, a harpoon and life vests and oars on the other. There was a built-in cabinet, the doors shut tight. Otherwise the hold was empty, bisected by the narrow, steep stairs.
She checked the steel bars surrounding her. They were firmly attached, too strong to move, too close together to slip between. The gate, too, was solid. It wouldn’t budge without a key. She lifted her bound hands and tried to prod the pins in the hinges, but they were set firmly. She couldn’t knock them loose.