Tidal Rage by David Evans (best big ereader .TXT) 📗

“Did he rape her?!” Cutler spat out.

“No, he ripped out a large tuft of her hair and scalp. Bauer went on to say the guy was interrupted by a noise down on the next deck. He picked your sister up, moved away to the side of the ship which, when you look over the side had no balconies or overhanging lower decks, and he coldly threw her overboard. I am sorry, Cutler.”

Cutler walked to the edge of the roof patio, holding on tightly to the rails in the sweltering heat, but he felt cold, ice-cold. He stayed there for several minutes until he gained control of his anger and emotions before turning to Cortez.

Cortez finished, “He then washed, turning on a hose to wash the blood off him from your sister’s scalp, then walked away casually.”

Cutler closed his eyes, re-enacting the scene, torturing himself. After several minutes he had calmed his mind; his brain felt like it was overheating. His thought process returned, and he began to think like an investigator rather than a grieving sibling.

“The split pipe on my parents’ plane wasn’t an accident, was it?” he directed at Cortez in a barely audible voice.

“No, that was Bauer; they were desperate, and wanted you well away from the case. Triple whammy; your sister, father and mother. Bauer thought you would be on the plane, and even if you weren’t, you wouldn’t be interested in Werner for a long time.”

The plastic patio chair sailed over the edge of the roof as Cutler finally lost his composure and swung his foot, the lip of the seat catching the decanter on the initial upward movement. Cutler swore for several minutes and stamped around among the shards of glass.

His brain was overheating once again; he was shaking with anger as he realized that maybe not his sister, but indeed his parents, had been killed because of his job. He knew his sister would have died too, if not by the Asian martial artist, then by the hands of Bauer. Finally, after what seemed an interminable amount of time to Cortez and Shultz, Cutler regained some small part of his composure.

“Bauer and Werner. Was the delegate involved?”

“Not precisely, but she had put pressure on Werner to try to make you go away,” Cortez replied.

“And all three of them are up in those villas right now?” spat out Cutler.

“Yes.”

“Can you get me any hardware?” he asked Cortez directly.

“Handguns aren’t a problem. Every businessman in Turkey carries one, but anything else may be a bit tricky.”

“Get me what you can. Neither of you need to get involved.”

“We already are. In for a penny and all that,” Cortez replied

“Count me in, Cutler. If we ever get to my wife’s killer, I will expect the same courtesy.”

“That’s a given,” Cutler said.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Esme Ross turned six years old. Her foster parents had tried their best to give her a happy, memorable day. John and Kathi Sturgeon were the kind of people the civilized world could not do without. They received a pittance for fostering Esme, and they had spent a month’s fostering fees on taking her to Disney World the previous night.

Kathi Sturgeon had dressed Esme in a yellow dress with black polka dots, and she had two ponytails, with her hair tied back with Minnie Mouse hair clips. She looked ready for her trip to Disney World.

They had crossed the large lagoon on the Mississippi Paddle Boat, and Pinocchio had waterskied past them. They entered Cinderella’s Castle onto Main Street, and the Sturgeons had ensured they had purchased the fast-track tickets, so the birthday girl was in front of the queue for any ride she went on.

Esme had insisted on riding on It’s A Small World seven times. The Sturgeons thought it was her favourite ride, and happily obliged. What they were unaware of was that Esme had been there three years before, and the park was one of her first memories.

She had been there with her mommy and daddy. One of Esme’s first memories was being squashed in the middle of the boat between her two laughing parents. She adored the closeness of the magical ride.

Back home on her nightstand, her foster parents had placed a photograph of her mommy and daddy, with baby Esme held aloft by Daddy while Mickey Mouse had his arms around Mommy. She remembered and missed them both so much.

The Sturgeons knew the little girl was sad, but she had shown steel in attempting to display a sense of enjoyment, not wanting to disappoint them both.

The day before they had left for the park, Cheryl Ross had visited her estranged daughter, as she was allowed to do once a week. It was a source of happiness and pain for Esme. Her mommy was all full of smiles and joy when she arrived, but Esme, through her bedroom window, could see her mommy weeping profusely when she reached her car at the end of the driveway.

For over two years now Cheryl Ross had spent a small fortune on trying to get custody of her little girl. Cheryl was the first to admit she had taken Don’s death badly, and for a short while her mental health had suffered. The final straw for the authorities was when she had left Esme with her eighty-year-old grandmother for a week, as she went to Egypt to follow up on the revelation that the Yacoubs had seen her husband being killed.

Grandmother Ross keeled over two days into the trip, a massive stroke, and Esme was there for four hours while she died, moaning and groaning. It was only when Cheryl returned that she discovered the death of her husband’s mother, and that her baby had been taken in by the authorities.

The court case the following week