Dark Passage (15 page)

‘
No
, she wouldn't do that. I was taking her for a pedicure at two o'clock. She was supposed to meet me
here
,' she said, stabbing the desk with an index finger.

I laid a hand on my sister's shoulder. ‘It's not yet two, so why don't you stay here in case Julie shows up, while I'll go check the cabin, OK?' When she nodded, I said, ‘I'll be right back.'

But Julie wasn't in her cabin, or in ours.

Thinking she might have gone to the Firebird for a quick snack, I made a circuit of the buffet before returning, empty-handed, to the Tidal Wave on the deck above.

When I got back, Wesley had found a chair for Georgina and had whipped his hand-held telephone out of its holster, using it to summon his supervisor. Over my head, an annoying squeal designed to attract attention blared out of a speaker, followed by an announcement. ‘Will Miss Julie Lynn Cardinale please report to Tidal Wave on deck ten immediately? Julie Lynn Cardinale, report to Tidal Wave on deck ten.'

‘Have you checked with the day spa?' I asked hopefully.

Georgina nodded; her lower lip quivered. ‘Wesley called them. She's not there.'

‘She has got to be on board somewhere!' I insisted. ‘I'm going to get Ruth and we'll comb the decks, beginning with the swimming pool.'

But I didn't have to find Ruth; while I was reassuring Georgina, she appeared. ‘I was in the library when I heard them page Julie over the P.A. What the hell's going on?'

As I filled Ruth in, Georgina began to weep openly. ‘What if she fell down and is lying hurt somewhere?' Georgina turned her tear-stained face to me. ‘Oh, God, Hannah, what if Julie has fallen overboard!'

I knelt on the deck in front of my distraught sister. ‘It is the middle of the day, Georgina, and there are hundreds of people on deck. If anyone had gone overboard, they would have been noticed. Besides, there are CCTV cameras everywhere, and crew to monitor them. Julie did
not
go overboard. We'll find her, I promise.'

The speaker squealed again with another call for Julie to report to the Tidal Wave. This time when she heard it, Georgina came unglued. ‘What is the goddamn point of checking children in if you're just going to let them wander off whenever they damn well please?'

‘Settle down, ma'am,' Wesley said.

Georgina's pale face flushed dangerously red. ‘Settle down? I'll settle down when Julie's back with me safely, and not one minute before!'

Looking desperate, Wesley punched numbers into his phone and spoke urgently to someone.

‘Is there somewhere we can go?' I asked him when he'd finished the call.

‘Security is on the way,' Wesley explained. ‘They'll know what to do.'

Wesley had called out the big guns: Benjamin Martin, Chief of Security, wearing a crisp white uniform with black epaulets, each bearing two broad and one narrow stripe. I had no idea what the stripes meant on a Phoenix vessel, but if Martin were in the navy, he'd be a lieutenant commander, the rough equivalent of an army major. Accompanying him was a female officer wearing two stripes on her epaulets – his lieutenant, I gathered – who made a beeline for Georgina and introduced herself. ‘I'm Molly Fortune. Let's go someplace quiet where we can talk.'

Georgina looked up with red-rimmed eyes. ‘But Julie is expecting to meet me here!'

Officer Fortune took Georgina by the upper arm and gently helped her to her feet. ‘Wesley will stay here, don't worry. And the rest of the staff is out looking for your daughter as we speak.'

Molly Fortune didn't object when Ruth and I tagged along, following her into the elevator, and out onto deck eight. As we made our way along the corridors, we passed crew members wearing blue vests marked ‘security' in yellow. They seemed to be in a hurry.

Fortune led us to an office tucked away between one of the higher end staterooms and the ship's bridge. A desk dominated the room; three computer screens were mounted above it. If this was the
Islander
's security command center, it was unimpressive. Officer Fortune indicated that we should sit down, then reached into a drawer and pulled out a box of tissues, which she handed to Georgina.

I remained standing. ‘Can Georgina stay here with you while I go help with the search?' I asked the officer.

‘All passengers are being asked to return to their cabins, Mrs Ives, family included. That's SOP. Standard operating procedure. We've launched a deck-by-deck, room-by-room search for your daughter,' she added, speaking directly to Georgina. ‘Please, don't worry. We'll find her.'

‘But, even if Julie were in someone else's room, why didn't she answer when you paged her?'

I could figure out the answer to that, but Georgina was already so upset that I kept my mouth shut.

We were startled by a strident blast on the intercom, and a disembodied voice saying, ‘Code Adam, Adam, Adam.'

Georgina, who had to recognize the universal code for a missing child, began to wail. Ruth, sitting closest, wrapped Georgina in her arms and began briskly rubbing her back.

‘I'm doing nobody any good here,' I said. ‘SOP or not, I'm going out to look for her.'

‘No, ma'am, you aren't,' Fortune warned. ‘We can't have anyone wandering around the ship right now. Please sit down. We'll keep you updated. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Water?'

We declined, sitting together as we had at Aunt Evelyn's funeral, three silent and very distressed little monkeys, holding hands.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably only twenty or thirty minutes, the intercom crackled to life again: ‘Code Sierra, Sierra, Sierra!'

Georgina started. ‘What was that? Code Sierra. What does that mean?'

Fortune stiffened, used her phone to made a call and said, ‘What's the situation?' As she listened, her shoulders relaxed. ‘Good job, thank you. I'll tell the family. They've found Julie,' she said.

‘Passengers on cruise vessels have an inadequate appreciation of their potential vulnerability to crime while on ocean voyages, and those who may be victimized lack the information they need to understand their legal rights or to know whom to contact for help in the immediate aftermath of the crime.'

Cruise Vessel Safety & Security Act of
2010
(H.R. 3660)

G
eorgina leapt to her feet. ‘Is she all right? Please tell me Julie's OK!'

Molly Fortune smiled kindly. ‘Your daughter's unconscious, Mrs Cardinale, but breathing. They've got her on a stretcher, and they're taking her up to the medical center right now.'

Georgina grabbed Fortune by the arm. ‘I need to go to her!'

‘Of course you do, ma'am, and we'll get you there as quickly as possible. Please follow me.' Fortune held the door open until we'd all passed into the hallway, then closed it behind her, jiggling the handle to make sure it was secure.

‘Where was she?' I asked Fortune as she hustled us down the corridor.

‘On one of the lower decks, in an area we call I-95. It's restricted to staff and crew, so we're not sure how Julie managed to find her way down there. She was overlooked at first because she was lying behind a stack of cardboard boxes that had been flattened and bound up for recycling. One of the cooks found her when he shifted a tub of empty wine bottles.'

I wondered how long Julie would have lain there if the cook hadn't found her, and promised myself never to complain about shipboard food.

The medical center turned out to be a state-of-the-art facility near the bow on deck three, as well-equipped as any of my doctors' offices back home in Annapolis.

When we arrived, a blue-vested emergency team had just transferred Julie from a stretcher to a gurney in a small examination room. Her hair was disheveled, dirt streaked her cheek, and a lump on her forehead had started to bruise. One foot was bare. A man in a white lab coat, who I assumed was the doctor, stood beside her. With no apology, Georgina pushed the doctor aside and bent over her daughter. ‘Baby!'

Julie's head lolled, her eyelids fluttered in a desperate, but unsuccessful attempt to open them. Her lips moved, and she began to mumble.

Georgina leaned closer. ‘What is it, darling?'

‘Mommy, Mommy … I don't feel so good, Mommy.' Her voice was softer than a whisper, her words slurred, but nobody could mistake their meaning.

A nurse elbowed her way into the room carrying a tray of instruments covered by a sterile cloth. As she passed by, Fortune asked, ‘Is the girl drunk?'

Georgina's head shot up and schrapnel shot out of her eyes. ‘My daughter is
not
drunk. It's perfectly obvious she's been drugged. Just
look
at her!' Georgina picked up one of Julie's hands, raised it a few inches then let it drop where it lay, limp, lifeless, on the sheet. ‘Use your eyes, people!'

The doctor stepped forward. ‘I'm Doctor Springer. Which one of you is Mrs Cardinale?'

‘I am,' Georgina said, her voice laced with exasperation at the dim-wittedness of the question.

‘Mrs Cardinale, I understand your concern, but I'll need to examine Julie, and the sooner I can do that, the sooner I can prescribe appropriate treatment. Now, will you kindly step aside? Please?'

Georgina stood her ground. ‘Well, I'm not leaving, and neither are my sisters.'

Dr Springer eased a pair of rubber gloves, one glove at a time, out of a dispenser that sat on a glass-fronted steel cabinet. ‘That's fine, but bear in mind that I'll need space in order to conduct a proper medical exam. Pick one of your sisters, Mrs Cardinale. I don't work with audiences.'

Officer Fortune took the hint and backed out of the examination room. ‘You'll let me know what you find, won't you, Doctor?'

He nodded. ‘Of course. Nurse? Where's my stethoscope?'

‘I'll go,' Ruth said graciously, saving Georgina the embarrassment of having to choose one sister over another. ‘Georgina, do you want me to try to contact Scott?'

‘God, no!
Please
don't call Scott until we have something definite to tell him!' A fat tear rolled down Georgina's cheek. ‘Scott is going to kill me, he's absolutely going to
kill
me!'

I wrapped an arm around my little sister and drew her close, trying to comfort her as she sobbed. ‘This isn't about you, Georgina, it's about Julie. And if we're passing the blame around, sweetheart, it was
Scott
who insisted you take Julie along on the cruise in the first place. But, you know what?
Nobody
is responsible for what happened to Julie except the person who attacked her. Not you, not Scott, not even those overworked young counselors in the Tidal Wave. Now, let's give the doctor space. Let the man do his work.'

Georgina resisted my efforts to pull her away from Julie's side. She seemed stuck there, like glue. I tugged again on her arm, and she stepped away with me so suddenly that I stumbled. I recovered quickly, though, and dragged her aside until we were standing with our backs pressed against the wall, watching anxiously from the sidelines as Dr Springer moved a stethoscope around Julie's chest, listening carefully each time, then lifted each eyelid and shone a light into her eyes.

‘Are you a
real
doctor?' Georgina wanted to know.

Dr Springer didn't bother to look up. ‘Yes, ma'am, with a medical degree from Baylor and everything. It's hanging on the wall out there in the office if you want to see it.'

‘So why are you working on a cruise ship?' she sneered.

Dr Springer snorted in amusement, but chose to ignore her. He picked up one of Julie's arms, resting her small hand on his beefy palm. ‘Julie, can you move your fingers for me? Julie?' He laid a hand on her ankle. ‘Can you move your toes, Julie? C'mon, wiggle those piggies.'

From where I stood it looked as if, from the neck down, Julie was about as capable of moving her extremities as a rag doll.

The nurse arrived and clipped a blood pressure monitor on Julie's index finger, then drew a sample of blood from her arm. I'd taken Julie to the doctors before, when she was a child, and the fact that she wasn't cringing, whining pitifully and backing away from the needle now simply broke my heart.

Nonetheless, I was impressed with the thoroughness of Dr Springer's exam. In the bedside manner department, I gave him an ‘A,' too. He talked soothingly to my niece throughout the whole process, just as if she were awake. ‘Julie, I'm going to examine your abdomen, now – you might feel a little pressure. And I'll need to lift your dress.'

Springer lifted the hem of Julie's sundress and eased the dress up to her waist. Georgina gasped then, and I noticed it, too. Julie's underpants – white cotton with tiny rosebuds, childlike and innocent – were torn. ‘My God, my God, somebody's raped my baby!'

‘We don't know that yet, Mrs Cardinale.' Dr Springer turned to the nurse who had been hovering at his elbow. ‘Jeannie,
please
escort these women into the waiting room, then bring me a rape kit.' His arm shot out, grabbed the track-mounted cubicle curtain and drew it around the gurney on which Julie lay, cutting off our view. His well of patience with my sister had clearly dried up.

Moving Georgina the ten feet from the examination room into the outer office was a feat of strength; her shoes must have been made of lead. Eventually I managed to haul her to a chair next to Ruth, and I plopped down gratefully in the chair on the other side.

‘Where's Security now, that's what I want to know!' Georgina folded her arms across her chest and scowled.

‘They're probably securing the crime scene,' I told her. ‘That's what professionals do.'

‘We need to call somebody,' Georgina said. ‘The F.B.I. has jurisdiction. Isn't that what George Whatshisname said?'