The money was gone, all of it! What was she supposed to do, where was she supposed to go from here? Her ticket only brought her as far as Saoirse; from there, she would be on her own. Her heart galloped, her palms sweated, and her stomach twisted itself into knots; the one thing she hoped would not go wrong happened. When had this happened, her suitcase was in her possession at all time? Then it hit her like a brick; she had left her suitcase alone on her bed back on the Sgaoileadh with the family she shared the cabin with. One of them must have taken the opportunity when she went for a brisk stroll. Pacing back and forth on the carriage, with her mind spinning and her heart racing, she wondered what she could do. If anyone else were with her in the carriage, they would have thought her mad. Jumping off the train on a random stop would crazy, if not dangerous without the money for food and board; on the other hand, after reaching the station on Saoirse, she would be in the same position. Without the funds to return to the academy or to keep going, wherever she got off she would be stuck. She could hide as a stowaway on another ship, but if she were caught, she would be treated as such. If that were the case, prison would be the best result. Perhaps she could get a job on Saoirse, but who would hire her? She had no natural skills or work history, and she did not know that native language of the island, which worried her even more.

Close to tears, she sank back into her seat and buried her face in her hands; close to tears.

XXXXX

Under deck, Flinn lay in his bunk with the empty sensation growing more and more unbearable. He tried, unsuccessfully, to numb the emptiness with liquor, but it only seemed to have fueled it. The thought of ending this misery crept into his mind, but quickly he banished it for fear of following its' sweet siren voice. He tried returning on deck, but the sunlight stunk his tear beaten eyes and caused his worried head to throb with every beat of his hurting heart; taking refuge under the shade of the main mast, he let his eyes gaze out onto the vast blue ocean. He remembered the thrill and joy the sight provided him; how the sensation of the ship rocking in the waves filled his mind with endless possibilities; how the smell of sea salt cooking in the bright sun soothed his spirit; now, nothing brought him joy.

He closed his eyes and rested his head against the solid trunk of the mast, he let his mind wander and he thought "how did it come to this?" why was he chasing after a woman, who clearly did not want anything to do with him; surely, he must be insane. Then again, he often did things that seemed insane and ludicrous. Perhaps she wanted nothing to do with him, perhaps she was afraid of facing him after she left the academy, or, and he feared this thought, she was back on Mendocino and the harbor master had given him wrong information. He would not know until he reached Mormonta and spoke with its' harbormaster. Several times throughout the day, he checked his maps and compasses to ensure he was still heading in the right direction, each time sighing in relief that the winds were generous to lead him straight to his target. Soon, the sun was setting in the western horizon and the silhouette of Mormonta came to view.

It was not long before he reached the quiet island's weather-beaten wooden docks; he was a little surprised at how quiet the harbor seemed, but it was the evening hour. Slowly, and still slightly intoxicated, he made his way to the Harbor Master, who was sitting in his booth reading a book. Though he did not wish to repeat what he had with the last master, he still wished his journey to be over and knocked on the booth's counter without hesitation. "Excuse me, sir, I need your help."

The master, an elderly man with a well-kept mustache, jumped a little at the sound of the knocking; clearly, he had not noticed Flinn earlier, but he quickly caught himself and inspected the young stranger before him with a wary eye. "How may I help you this evening?"

"I am looking for a woman…"

"Aren't we all?" chucked the master, but that quickly died when he saw his joke had reached deaf ears.

"The master on Ceart told me she took a ship here. I was hoping to have caught up with her-."

"Sir," the master interrupted, "No ship has shown up here. I don't know what that master told you, but no ship has been scheduled for this island all day."

What? No, that can't be; he told me she went here. Perhaps she came here on a later boat or you must have missed it. Maybe her ship is running late!" his words began to run together and so did his thoughts. He heard the last master tell him that she went to Ceart. What if he misheard the master and he named some other island, or perhaps her ship sunk along the way. The latter, however, seemed unlikely as he saw no evidence of a sinking during his trip.

"Sir, the only ship scheduled for this location is a small fishing junker from Mormonta's sister island Sinsin. Again, I have no idea what the last master told you, but your woman isn't here. I suggest you go back to Ceart and ask him again where she went. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Flinn only managed to shake his head, dumbfounded to say anything. He should have known this journey was a farce from the moment he started; he knew Alisea well enough to know that she could do anything she set her mind to, including hiding from him. His heart hurt, his knees grew weak, his mind spun and his vision blurred; without realizing it, he fell to his knees before the booth. The master jumped from his post and rushed to the young captains' aid; wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulder and keeping him steady. "What is wrong kiddo?" he gave Flinn a gentle shake; this must have loosened something within the young captain for he suddenly turned and wrapped his arms around the old man's chest, holding him tight like a frightened child, and began to cry. The Harbor Master, being a father of five and a grandfather of three, knew this type of distress all too well and gently held the sobbing sailor, lightly rubbing his back. "Come on kiddo, there is no need to cry. Harbor Masters make mistake too; they are human."

"She is gone! She doesn't want me to find her! I shouldn't even have started looking for her! I should just give up!" the young captain hicked between soul-shaking sobs. In response, the master carefully pried the sobbing captain from his person and gave him a gentle shake. "Hey kiddo, this all has a simple solution."

"Then what is it?" Flinn asked, trying to wipe the fresh tears from his eyes.

"Why were you looking for this women in the first place?"

"I was going to ask her if she wanted to marry me, but she left before I got the chance!"

"Do you love this woman?" he asked with a gentle tone, he knew this was a sensitive subject, but he could not keep this young man crying all day.

"Of course, I do, I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"Then you should continue to look for her."

"But, what if I don't find her?"

The old Harbor Mater gently lifted the young captain's chin, so he could look into his eyes. "And if you quit now, you will always ask yourself if you could have found her. Take it from an old man, kiddo, life is hard, and nothing is gifted to you, so you must work hard for everything you want. You can't quit, simply because you are not seeing the results you like. If you love this woman so much, then you should keep looking for her. For all you know, she might be thinking of you and is simply too scared to approach you."

Flinn nodded in understanding and gave the old master a weak smile; he was right. Perhaps the last master gave him the wrong island and, perhaps, Alisea was thinking of him the way he thought of her. Carefully, with the old master to steady him, Flinn got back on his feet; feeling a little childish for breaking apart in front of a complete stranger. With a weary voice, he thanked the man and returned to the Maria with the intention of returning Ceart; leaving the old master standing on at the docks waving and wishing him a safe voyage.

XXXXXXXXXXX

On a small mail boat heading to Ceart, Peter and Vlad stood on deck and compared their notes while Ivan leaned against the railing, stuffing his pipe with Tabaco. Peter still thought the two killings were related, despite Ivan and Vlad insisting they were not. He knew he should take his colleague's word, but his gut simply would not let that idea rest and his gut was rarely wrong. "What if he has moved on from Ceart to another island by now?"

"Simple, we split up. One of us will follow the pattern and the other two will move from Ceart to Sinsin. Hopefully, we can trap him on Mormonta. It is unlikely he is expecting us to follow him all the way from Mendocino. He probably didn't even know that we followed him from Mendocino to Cina. We were just unlucky that he had moved on from Cina." Replied Vlad while sketching something in his notes.

"What if he is still on Cina and we simply missed him?"

"What use would he do in Cina? There is little to steal with all the Masters and Mistresses. If he tried to steal from a working girl, he would have his hand chopped off. Besides, we interviewed most of the major brothels and no one saw anybody matching our description."

"If this man is such a maniac, then there is no reason he went to a brothel. Perhaps he slept in the streets and we missed him."

At this, Vlad smirked. "What is the matter with you, did a pretty girl catch your fancy on Cina?"

"No, I am afraid we weren't thorough enough!" Peter snarled in annoyance. To Peter, the job was his wife and he knew Vlad knew.

"Listen, Peter, we were as thorough as we need to be. If we were wrong, he gets away and Cynthia won't be avenged…"

"Exactly, Cynthia won't be avenged and a murderer is on the loose. He might even kill again. How embarrassing would it be if we lost someone the likes of Jack the Ripper? Not only will the Erigby's be heartbroken, but also others might be in danger. You saw how he butchered that young girl, I can't imagine others suffering like that." At this, Vlad bit his lips; it was admirable how passionate Peter was about his job, but this also worried Vlad; he worried that his colleague and friend might break himself in this case.

"Listen, Peter, all we can do is try our best. If we fail, at least we can say we tried. This world is huge and we are just three detectives hunting down a single person." He places a reassuring hand on Peter's shoulder, "please promise me that, even if we fail, that it won't break you." Peter only nodded in understanding.

That afternoon, they reached the calm shores of Ceart. Being the only passengers on the mail boat, they easily maneuvered to the Harbor Master's booth, finding a trembling and smelly man hanging on to a half-empty bottle. "Sir, we are Detectives from Mendocino on a manhunt. Are you open to a few questions?" asked Ivan, taking a deep puff of his pipe.

The Harbor Master looked up at the detectives with drunk-glazed eyes. "Are you here for the crazy man?" he murmured with a drunken voice. Peter immediately pushed past Ivan and practically flung himself at the master.

"Did he have blue hair and wore a dark-blue jacket?" he asked in excitement, he knew his gut was never wrong.

"Yes, that is the basic. He came here ramblin' 'bout some girl. 'Didn't know her, so I told 'im to get lost. He snapped 'nd threatened to cut me throat. I lied and sent him to Mormonta." The master shook at that memory and took another swig of his bottle before looking back at the detectives. "You lookin' for 'im too?"

"The man we are looking for has killed a local girl on Mendocino." Said Peter; he moved his face a little closer to the drunk master's face. "You said you send him to Mormonta?"

"Yeah, Mormonta, but he be on 'is way back though. 'know the master 'f Mormonta; bloody honest bastard!" he sniffled an took, yet another, swig from his bottle; he felt like a dead man walking.

"You think he will come back from Mormonta just to get back at you for lying about the ware bouts of some women?" asked Vlad, scribbling a quick note about Mormonta.

"Man looked 'eady to kill." The Harbor Master choked back a few tears. " 'm dead!"

At this, Vlad turned to his colleagues, "I have a plan. I will take the next ship to Mormonta to see if he got there and if he planning or has begun to travel back here. Judging by his speed, he probably has his own ship." Suggested Vlad; his colleagues did not object.

"And we will wait here until we hear of you or until the man runs into our trap." Added Ivan, tipping his pipe at Vlad, and soon, Vlad was on the next ship to Mormonta.

Peter turned to Ivan, "How long do you think we should wait?"

"Mormonta is not that far from Ceart. If our got here at a reasonable time and there were no incidences on his journey and he is on his way back, then he would make it back here shortly before midnight."

"Yer gonna protect me, ain't ya?" asked the master, clinging to his bottle like a frightened child clings to a toy during a thunderstorm.

"Oh don't worry kind sir, we will keep you safe, but you will have to play along with our plan." Said Ivan, refilling his pipe.

XXXXXXXXXX

Flinn had not taken a single break since he left the docks on Mormonta; the conversation having lifted his spirits. He felt alive as he made his way back to Ceart; it was almost midnight when he spotted Ceart illuminated by the moonlight in the distance.