The mayor spoke first, and formally. 'My thanks to all of you for coming on such short notice in this, the middle of our busiest season, but as I told each of you, it is a matter of life and death. We must find a young woman lost in one of the mines.' A few of the men exchanged glances. Pappas didn't blink.
The mayor came up with that cover story at Andreas' office, and even though none of them gave it much chance of flying, they hoped whatever rumors it spawned wouldn't be as catastrophic as the truth. There was a complication though — a very serious one. Volunteers were being asked to help find a ruthless, brutal killer. They had to be warned of the danger in a way that wouldn't blow the whole story wide open. The mayor assured them he'd handle it.
'My friends, we don't know if the missing woman is alone or with someone, went willingly or against her will. But we think she's somewhere in the mines, places you know better than anyone on our island. Just be careful. Prepare for the worst and pray for the best.'
Andreas couldn't believe what he was hearing. The mayor planned on sending these men off to look for a serial killer in the dark — literally and figuratively. Where was the warning he promised?
'What do you mean "prepare for the worst"?' It was Pappas.
Andreas assumed the mayor was agitated by the question, but he didn't show it.
'I think whenever you go in search of someone who might have been taken against her will — and I emphasize might — you should be alert to the possibility that someone may be prepared to do the rescuer harm.'
'You mean "harm" like what happened to that girl up at the church?' Pappas turned to face Andreas, as if directing the question at him.
That had to piss off the mayor, thought Andreas, but still Mihali didn't show it — just hurried to answer before Andreas could speak. 'Let's hope not. I repeat, I don't know what happened to her, but I want all of you to be careful.'
Andreas noticed he didn't offer his volunteers the opportunity of backing out. Perhaps that's why he wasn't agitated — he knew his audience had no choice.
No one else had a question, and the mayor turned the meeting over to Andreas to organize the search. Andreas described the missing woman and the area to be searched, which included mine entrances by the artist's home and Panos' farm. He said he'd leave it to the men in the room who knew the mines how best to conduct the search, but he insisted they work in groups of no fewer than three and that at least one in each group carry a firearm.
No one said a word. Although military service was mandatory for all Greek men and each probably had several guns at home, for the police chief to insist on guns meant this had to be far more serious than the mayor was letting on.
It was Pappas who said what everyone had to be thinking. 'Is that to prepare for the worst?' His tone was sarcastic but he didn't wait for an answer or dwell on his point. Instead, he threw up his hands in a sign of disgust and turned to face the men. 'Okay, let's set this up so we're not running into each other inside — because some of you are such lousy hunters you'll be shooting at shadows.' That got them snickering. He'd lightened the mood and no one seemed to object to his taking charge — it was almost as if it had been planned that way.
Pappas suggested they divide the area into five sections with groups of four assigned to each section. He and the remaining men — the 'old-timers' he called them — would man a command center out of his Jeep on the hillside adjacent to Panos' property. No one offered a better idea, but Andreas insisted that each search group report back at least once every hour, and any that didn't would have police dispatched to their last reported location ASAP.
Andreas noticed the mayor move his head to catch Pappas' eye, and immediately Pappas said, 'Okay guys, let's get to work.' The men filed out with nervous, resigned looks on their faces, expressions you'd expect to see on men asked to be pallbearers at the funeral of a stranger.
Pappas stopped as he passed Andreas. 'How dangerous do you really think it's going to be?'
Andreas put his head down so as not to look him in the eyes. 'Don't really know.' Then he lifted his head and looked straight at him. 'But I'd tell them to be careful, real careful.'
Pappas nodded. 'Thanks,' he said, and left.
'What do you think?' the mayor said to Andreas.
'They know she's not in there on holiday.' Andreas sounded annoyed.
'They probably think she was kidnapped by the same one who killed the Vandrew woman.' Mihali's voice was calm.
Andreas was surprised. 'That doesn't bother you?'
He nodded no. 'Not really. Everyone knows a woman was murdered and the killer's still out there. Once they get started, they'll be like farmers chasing a fox with a chicken in its mouth. They won't be thinking about all the other chickens killed by the fox, just the one in its mouth.'
'Yeah, and what happens if they catch the fox?'
He patted Andreas' arm and smiled. 'We should only be so lucky. If it's okay with you, I have to get back to town.'
Andreas didn't want to let the subject drop but could tell the mayor was in 'please the electorate' mode. He'd seen it in a lot of politicians. It meant no straight answers.
'Sure, I've got to leave for the mines anyway. I'll let you know if something turns up,' Andreas said, although he was certain the mayor would get his news straight from his volunteers, probably before he did.
As Andreas walked toward the door the mayor yelled out in a grandly cheery voice, 'Happy hunting, Chief.'
Andreas wondered what the hell was going through that man's mind that made him so happy in the middle of this nightmare. She hadn't moved from where he'd left her, under the light, flat on her back. He dropped a small beach bag on the floor beside her and stared at her face. He'd seen enough young women die slowly to tell she was still alive. He knelt down and gently lifted her injured hand. Cradling it in his left hand, he gently stroked it with his right. His eyes studied her body for movement, and when he looked at her face his own took on the gaze of a kindly friar. He stared with what seemed only benevolent interest for several seconds before giving her wrist a sudden, violent twist. She winced only slightly.
He placed the injured hand over her right breast, then reached down for her right hand and drew it across her body to rest on her left breast. Then, he sat back on his haunches and reached into the bag for what he needed next, confident the pain he was about to inflict would not wake her.
Annika was finding peace. The light was bright silver flecked with gold, the air bursting with fresh scents of springtime and mellow sounds of distant songbirds as smiling children in soft white muslin danced around her. They called her 'sister' and asked her to join them. From the circle of dancers, a little boy reached out for her hand. She followed him with her eyes but did not reach back. Two young girls with yellow flowers in their hair stepped forward and offered her a soft, white muslin gown. Looking down, she realized she was as naked as the day she came into the world. She looked up and stared into the light. Was this what she wanted to do? Was it time to join her brothers and sisters? Annika was so very tired, and they offered her peace.
She was about to accept the gown when her head jerked violently forward. The children must be pulling at her hair. It hurt. She felt the tugging and touching move along her body to places only her lover had been. These were not children, certainly not any she wanted to play with for eternity. She pushed the gown away and waited for the touching to end.
When it stopped there were no more children or songbirds. Only silence and a blinding light. She was no longer in a place of peace. Had she made a mistake not going with the children? Perhaps they would come back for her. She prayed they would. She'd long ago lost track of time, and now all hope of rescue was gone. She felt abandoned. All she wanted was to find that place of peace.