This is it! The epilogue! Gives you an idea as to where things went from there.
Thank you again for the insane response to this story, thank you so much for reading till the end. It could go on but I think all stories need a bit of end otherwise it is too much. Thanks again, hope you've enjoyed reading it :) I've loved writing it.
The Swedish lady looked so Swedish it hurt.
Ingrid stood straight as a stick, blond beyond colour, and she smelled of coffee and new clothes. She felt that she had turned Italian, after so many years spent there with her partner, but the grief, and the anxiety, had somehow dug out the Swedish in her and to her greatest horror she had turned into everything she had attempted to escape through her travels, her foreign boyfriends, her foreign child. There is nothing wrong with being Swedish, of course, and if Ingrid had been born Spanish that's what she would have wanted to escape.
None of that mattered, though. Her daughter had gone missing while on a diving trip on south east Asia, along with her friends, and he rest of the diving trip.
No one knew where they were. Everyone had ideas, obviously, and none of them pleasant. She'd been killed. Raped and killed. That was the most likely.
But what of the others? Had all ten people on the boat suffered the same fate? The number of missing corpses was what gave Ingrid hope, because it couldn't be the work of a lone psychopathic killer, it had to be something else. An accident? Perhaps they were stranded on a desert island?
The police had been useless, so Ingrid hired a private detective who specialised in disappearances abroad. The private detective warned her: in that region of the world, that many people gone missing but no sign of an accident, it could be slave traders. Which meant that her daughter could be just about anywhere in the world, likely drugged, her identity likely erased, and there was little chance she would ever be found. Ingrid said to just find out, at least. Not knowing was worse. Wherever her daughter was, Ingrid could easily find her. Surely her daughter would stand out. Ingrid was prepared to walk around the streets of Hong Kong until she found her.
Two years.
Two years of slowly losing herself, of shrinking back into her Swedish mother. Ingrid was losing hope, but not spite. She contacted slave traders online. Tried to purchase her own qdaughter. Gave specific details, mentioning for instance she wanted a slave that had a birthmark the shape of Africa on her thigh, and a circular scar on her elbow.
Nothing.
Then one day, the private detective called her. Told her to come over. Would not say a thing on the phone.
So, Ingrid left Italy, travelled all the way to Holland. She knew the sinuous and labyrinth like streets like the back of her hand by now, and she found her way easily, climbed the cracking steps up to the top floor, to the den the detective called his office.
"Mrs Ridley," said the detective, not bothering to remember she was divorced.
"Miss Magnusson" corrected Ingrid, but it was half hearted.
He ushered her into the room and made her sit down at his desk in front of his computer.
"I found uh- I found your daughter, miss. I believe."
"F-found her? So she is-?"
"Alive."
"Where? Is she-? Has she been-?"
"It's better if I show you."
The detective opened YouTube on his computer. He typed in "the Vaas Montenegro experience" and landed on a playlist. He scrolled down.
"What's this?"
"This is a pirate that operates in south east Asia. He is part of a huge slave trade, sells drugs, weapons... He's not at the top of the trade but very nearly. A lot of disappearances in this area of the world can be traced down to him. Of course, no one knows that. I've had to contact some very special people to get this type of information."
Special people being former secret agents, and former slaves.
"And he just... Puts videos on YouTube?"
"Startling, I know. Ah!"
The detective opened up a video.
"It is a good job you are sitting down." He told her, visibly nervous. As the video buffered into clarity, Ingrid could hear the detective biting his nails behind her back.
The camera shakes then focuses on a man. His Mohawk stands proudly on his badly shaved head.
"Hello." Hispanic accent. "And welcome to my show. It's a beautiful day here on my island." The camera is turned towards a paradise like view of emerald hills and turquoise water. "Take a look at my house." The camera whizzes towards a great wooden colonial house, partly burnt and destroyed. "Still some work to do but Rome wasn't built in one day."
He smiles.
"Let's take a look inside. Follow me, motherfucker!"
The camera cuts and when it films again it appears to be inside the house.
It has been set onto a table, and the pirate is sitting opposite the camera. Behind him, there's an old man sitting at a desk in the corner, and, standing at the sink nearby...
Ingrid starts shaking. Her heart punches hard against her ribcage. Alice. Her baby.
"So it's a lot of work you know. I'm ok. Got my nurse looking after me."
There's a snort in the background, and Ingrid would recognise that sound amongst all others. She's had to put up with it for years, throughout her daughter's teenage angst.
The pirate smiles, like nothing happened. He is caressing the table, absentmindedly. He throws one look over his shoulder then bends forward, looking at his viewers in the eyes.
"We fucked on this table" he whispers. He chuckles, then kisses the wooden surface. "It was fucking beautiful, hermano, I tell you. So much love," his fingers grasp at thin air. "So much passion..." Unexpectedly, his eyes water and he looks away, wipes them with the back of his hand. "Sunday's Valentine's Day. I'm taking her for a swim. My gorgeous, gorgeous mermaid. What are you doing for Valentine's Day, huh? You lousy fuck?"
"Are you speaking to me?" Asks the old man from the back.
The pirate bursts out laughing.
"I don't want to know what you're doing, hermano!" He laughs, and Ingrid sees her daughter' shoulders shake as she tries in vain to suppress her own laughter. The pirate sees it, and looks back at the camera, visibly proud.
"Ok then. Put your plans for Valentine's Day in the comments. Bye. Say bye, Alice."
"Bye Alice."
Ingrid laughs tearfully at the old joke. The video ends.
"Oh god... It stopped! Is there more? Is she in more? Which videos?"
"There are a couple... There is one dated from a few months ago, at the beach, and another of her with a dog. This is the most recent one."
"She looks well" cries Ingrid. "She looks heathy. She's caught the sun!"
It occurs to her suddenly that the detective isn't looking as pleased as he should.
"What?" She asks, annoyed.
"Mrs Ridley... Ingrid. These videos... They do not seem to suggest an abduction. They... Do not seem to show any form of struggle, or... It looks as if she is staying there of her own accord. And... I uh... Well..."
"Yes? What?"
"Well we could easily trace where the videos were uploaded from and uh, find your daughter. But uh..."
"Of course we want to do that. What?"
"P-perhaps she met this man while on her holiday. Perhaps she fell for him, it happens, you know? Whatever the case, at present she is choosing to stay with him, the videos show her fairly happy, and with him being in the profession that he is in... Well, were she to be found, I am not sure this association with a people smuggler would be very... It wouldn't shine the best of light on your daughter."
And just like that, the hope that has been springing into Ingrid's mind starts slipping away, like smoke through an open window.
"What are you saying?"
"I am saying that I am unsure as to how much of an association there is between the two of them. There certainly seems to be consensual, romantic and physical relationship, and I am not sure whether reporting your daughter's whereabouts to the authorities would be the best thing we could do for her."
"Alice is not a criminal."
"No, but... In the eyes of the law, crime by association is still crime."
"Alice is NOT a criminal."
The detective sighs. "There's more."
He starts searching through the playlist again.
"I didn't want to show you all this but..."
He plays a video.
It's Alice, her back to the camera, watching as the pirate shoots her friends. Then Alice, this time in what appears to be a camp, shooting at a target while pirates cheer and the Mohawk bearing pirate snuggles up to her. Ingrid feels herself grow cold. There is no mistaking the smile on her daughter's face, the red in her cheeks. Another short video, this time filmed at arm's length by the pirate. He is in bed with her daughter. She is sleeping, her head resting on his shoulder, her arm wrapped possessively over his chest. He is smiling, kisses her forehead. The video title reads "mi vida".
"I've seen enough!" Yells Ingrid, and the detective turns the computer screen off.
"There is enough video evidence here to suggest your daughter may have very much willingly joined this pirate, and that she may have... Helped him, on occasions."
Ingrid cannot speak. God, she needs another coffee. And without bloody milk, thank you.
"You employ me, Mrs Ridley. I'll do what you want. It is your decision. We could have your daughter back soon. Only thing is, she may be coming back to a court trial, that's what I mean."
When the lady fails to react, the detective starts fidgeting nervously.
"I mean, she seems well. Healthy. In love, really."
"I know." Interrupts Ingrid, cold as ice. "I can see it, I am not blind."
She nods to herself, resigned.
"I know."
She stands. Picks up her handbag.
"I know. Thank you for your hard work. Payment will be transferred first thing tomorrow."
"So... What about...?"
"I said I know. I can see-" she nods, chokes on her words. "I can she is living happily ever after."
She shakes his hand, an iron like claw.
"Goodbye, then."
"Goodbye."
She walks out.
Miles away, Vaas has just uploaded his latest video. He turns around, looks at his mermaid as she peels a mango, chatting quietly to the doctor. His chest still hurts but it is getting better, and he smiles.
This is his happy ending.
And good news is, it's not even the end!