§ § § -- January 13, 1999
Roarke woke up pensive, and the mood lingered as he dressed and went down for breakfast. By now Mariki was barely speaking to him; she served him after delivering a grim "good morning" and then left without another word. The sun was just rising; so when he saw four of Leslie's friends coming around the bend in the lane, he was very surprised.
"Morning, Mr. Roarke!" Lauren Knight called merrily. "Is Leslie up yet?"
Maureen Harding grinned. "I have some pictures to show her." They, with Tabitha Ordoñez and Katsumi Miyamoto behind them, crossed the porch and paused in a line along the side of the table. At this point Mariki came back onto the porch and clapped a hand over her heart at sight of the women.
"Thank the ancestral gods," she cried, sounding as if someone had just plucked her off a sinking ship. "Maybe you can do something. Miss Leslie's been missing since at least yesterday morning. This place has turned upside down and inside out, and now that we have some folks here with clear heads, it's possible someone will believe me."
The girls' smiles faded; Roarke looked jarred, sitting there staring at nothing. Lauren peered at Mariki in confusion. "Missing? Holy cow, Mariki, what'd we miss?"
"A damned soap opera, if you ask me," Mariki said tartly. "Mr. Roarke's been in some sort of mental fog, giving everyone the brush-off, and lavishing attention all over some intruder who's got him wrapped right around her little finger." Mariki lifted a pinky for emphasis. "I may as well say it right out, because all I ever get is the evil eye around here anymore. Go ahead and fire me if you must, Mr. Roarke, but I know what's been going on, and frankly, Miss Leslie's been gone so long I'm convinced she's in some kind of trouble. And you don't want to do a blamed thing about it."
"Enough," Roarke said. His tone wasn't sharp, he didn't even raise his voice; but the soft command was enough to silence Mariki. She and the four visitors focused on him, and all found themselves unnerved by his expression. He looked pale and drawn; his eyes had a bleak look in them, and his mouth was one long grim line. As if unaware of his mystified audience, he said just above a whisper, "She has betrayed me…betrayed us all…"
"She isn't worth it," Mariki snapped. "What about your daughter, Mr. Roarke? What about this island and everything it's ever meant to you and all of us who live here? I don't know what she did to you, but it's time you snapped out of it!"
"You will cease, Mariki," Roarke said stonily. Something in his voice made her quail and she backed away a few steps. Slowly he stood up and paused there, looking as though he were gathering himself. "Leslie has been gone too long, and I have seen too little of the truth." He turned to Lauren, Maureen, Katsumi and Tabitha, and his voice softened. "I am gratified that Leslie has friends such as you. If you will assist in the search…"
"Absolutely," Tabitha exclaimed, and the others nodded vigorously. Mariki blew out a loud breath of relief and began to clear the table while Roarke, flanked by the four women, strode purposefully down the veranda. He never looked back or to either side, only stared resolutely straight ahead.
They piled into a station wagon, with Maureen up front and Tabitha, Katsumi and Lauren crammed into the middle seat. Roarke drove, still staring grimly out the windshield, without speaking. The girls were too worried about Leslie by now to be intimidated by his forbidding silence, though, and they murmured amongst one another as they scanned the woods along either side of the Ring Road.
About ten miles along they spotted a figure in the middle of the road; as Roarke drew closer, they saw that it was Paola. The girls had no idea who she was, but they sensed she had something to do with Leslie's absence from the flinty glare Roarke directed at her.
At first Paola didn't notice. "My Roarke…I'm so relieved to see you. The jeep I was using broke down several miles back and…" She trailed off as his expression registered. "Is something wrong?"
"Get in, Paola," Roarke ordered. She eyed him nervously but did as she was told; Maureen got out so that Paola could squeeze in between her and Roarke. Once they were rolling again, he commanded, "Tell me how to get to Leslie."
"I have no idea where Leslie is. Are you saying she never returned?" Paola asked.
Roarke stiffened visibly in the seat and slammed on the brakes, eliciting startled shrieks from the girls and a gasp from Paola. When the car had stopped, he turned furiously on her. "How dare you lie to me!" he thundered, in a towering rage the like of which none of Leslie's friends—nor Leslie herself, they suspected—had ever seen from him. "You've done an excellent job of disguising your true self, Paola, but there will be no more deception from you!" He leaned in towards her, his dark eyes boring holes in her; behind her, Maureen ducked out of the car and wedged herself in beside Katsumi. "Where is my daughter?"
Paola wilted under the concentrated power of his enraged gaze and began to wheeze, as if she were having an asthma attack. "She's in the jungle about twenty miles ahead of here. I found an old abandoned hut and left her there."
The girls gasped in unison and glanced at one another. Roarke held his glare for another five seconds, then released Paola and sent the car forward again. "Direct me there," he told her, "and be very specific."
Paola, cowed, did as he said, and soon they were marching up a weed-choked trail in a straggling line with her leading the way. Roarke was directly behind her, with Leslie's friends determinedly keeping up. It turned out to be quite a hike—nearly a mile, in Roarke's estimation—when the trail disgorged them into a small ragged clearing, in the middle of which sat a decrepit little hovel with no windows or doors, just holes in the walls. Tabitha said something in Náhuatl, her eyes huge with revulsion; her friends just gawked.
"She's in there," Paola said, pointing at the hut.
Roarke eyed her, then shifted his attention momentarily to the other women. "If she tries to escape, do whatever you must to restrain her," he said, then slipped through the largest hole. The hut consisted of only one room, so it was a bare second before he saw the inert form lying in the corner as if thrown there. Leslie was deeply unconscious, her face, arms and legs covered with dark smudges, her hair lank and dusty, her faded old nightshirt wrinkled, torn and filthy. She was barefoot, and he could see a pronounced mark on the inside of her left arm at the elbow, as of the insertion of a needle several times in the same spot. A massive icicle of fear speared him and he knelt beside her, gathering her into his arms with the greatest possible care, as though she might break. The self-recrimination he had held so tightly in check broke loose now, and he closed his eyes and rocked her a little, damning himself, damning Paola and all she had done.
"I have forgotten my promise," he said to himself in a barely-audible monotone. "She is my child, and I have failed her…"
"Oh no you don't!" shouted Lauren's voice from outside, and there came the rapid-fire sounds of a scuffle. Roarke shifted Leslie's dead weight in his arms and swiftly rose to a standing position, carrying her out. He was just in time to see Lauren and Maureen both holding Paola in place with white-knuckled grips; Tabitha stood with feet planted apart, glaring at her, and Katsumi was at a tree a few yards away, energetically ripping down a thick vine that twisted around the trunk.
"Is everything all right, ladies?" he asked.
"No problem, Mr. Roarke," Lauren said, shooting Paola a venomous look. "She was about to hit the trail there, but she didn't get too far."
"She probably wouldn't have anyway," Tabitha observed. "It sounds to me as if she has a severe case of asthma." Paola's panting sounded like wind moaning.
"I suspect she has far more than that," said Roarke in a steely voice. Katsumi gathered the vine in her hands and approached them; Lauren and Maureen forced Paola's arms behind her back, and Katsumi wound the vine around and around Paola's wrists, tying a huge and complicated knot just for safety's sake. Tabitha turned around and gasped again when she saw Leslie.
"Mr. Roarke, is she going to be all right?" she cried.
"I don't know," said Roarke baldly, and the bleak look filled his dark eyes again. It was so painful to see that Tabitha flinched and looked away; Lauren, Maureen and Katsumi all concentrated on restraining Paola. "We had best get back. Maureen, will you please take the wheel?" Maureen nodded, her green eyes large with worry.
Silence reigned now as the girls prodded Paola none too gently back down the trail and Roarke cradled Leslie, shielding her from overhanging vines and protruding branches all the way along. When they finally emerged onto the road, Paola said sullenly, "The jeep didn't break down—it's behind that bend." She inclined her head to their left.
Tabitha nudged Lauren. "You and I can get it. Come on." The two started off at a jog along the pavement, while Roarke settled into the front passenger seat of the station wagon with Leslie still securely in his protective embrace. Maureen looked away to forestall tears; and Paola, sensing distraction, again tried to make a break for it.
Completely out of the blue, Katsumi's foot shot out and deftly tripped her, sending her sprawling into the weeds at the roadside. "You think you are going somewhere?" she asked, her dainty voice carrying a taunting tone that sounded completely unlike her.
"Wow," said Maureen and laughed. "Go for it, Katsumi!"
Katsumi grinned. "They teach me karate at the geisha house in Japan," she said. "Not so much, only a little. But it is enough, I can break her arm if I must."
"I'm sure glad you're on our side," Maureen said cheerfully, brightening still more as the jeep came around the bend and pulled up next to them. Lauren and Tabitha jumped out and hesitated momentarily at sight of Paola prone in the brush; Maureen read their faces and said, "Katsumi tripped her up when she tried to run."
Lauren and Tabitha both laughed and hefted the cursing Paola up between them. They ignored her invective in Italian and trundled her along to the back of the jeep, slinging her unceremoniously across the rear seat while Maureen and Katsumi returned to the wagon. A worried silence settled over them all as they made their way back to the eastern side of the island, with Maureen piloting the wagon and Lauren driving the jeep.
Roarke promised Leslie's friends that he would get word to them whenever Leslie's condition changed, and they left with enormous reluctance after carrying Paola into the study and deliberately stretching her out on her stomach on the floor. Mariki had come in when they arrived, and now peered at Paola with a jaundiced eye. "Not so full of yourself anymore, are we?" she remarked rhetorically.
Paola cursed at her again, her voice hoarse from yelling and her incessant wheezing. "Be silent, Paola," Roarke said sharply. "Mariki, please call the authorities and have her removed. I find her presence in my house to be a great irritant."
"With pleasure, sir…and welcome back," Mariki said significantly. Roarke paused long enough to eye her with mock threat, and she simply smiled.
"I will be back down as soon as I have taken care of Leslie," he said, relenting and cracking the faintest of smiles, "and then I will see to it myself that Paola leaves the island. You, my dear, are no longer welcome here." The former endearment took on a mocking, ironic quality now.
"I want my property back," Paola shouted at him.
"You'll have it," Roarke said. "Mariki, please handle that also." Mariki nodded, already dialing the police.
"It won't matter, Roarke—the damage is done. She's going to die," Paola taunted. "I'll leave, never fear. I'll be going where I'm welcome—to someone you never thought to see again." Roarke shook his head wearily and started up the stairs with Leslie.
When he came back down a few minutes later, the police had arrived and were about to escort Paola out the door. "Good riddance to smelly garbage," Mariki pronounced. The cops looked at each other with surprised grins.
"Where should we take her, Mr. Roarke?" one asked.
"To the plane dock," Roarke replied. "I believe the next charter is due to depart in less than ten minutes. Her luggage will meet her there, and she is to be seated on the plane before you leave her to her own devices."
Once they were gone, Mariki followed Roarke up the stairs and into Leslie's room, where he had laid her atop the bed for the moment to be sure Paola was properly removed from the premises. Mariki winced at sight of Leslie. "The poor girl! Mr. Roarke, she needs a lot of TLC. I'll run a bath right away and lay out some fresh nightclothes for her. Just wait here." She bustled out of the room, and Roarke watched her go before turning to gaze at Leslie with an infinitely sorrowful look on his face.