Hoping the stillness meant they would listen and leave Domitian alone, Sarita straightened to sit next to him again and explained, "People have been going missing from North America. Enough that it was noticed, and a-" she hesitated and then said "-a special policing team was put together to find out who was taking them, why, and where they were taken to. This team tracked the disappearances to Caracas and Dr. Dressler, but by the time they got here, Dressler had taken a sabbatical from the university and retreated to the island. They were able to find out he had an island, but not where it was. Apparently there's no record of his owning an island."
"He bought it under my maiden name," Mrs. Dressler said. "Elizabeth Salter. I didn't understand why at the time, but it was probably for just this sort of eventuality. The man is always thinking ten steps ahead of everyone else," she finished bitterly.
"Oh," Sarita breathed and glanced instinctively to Domitian. She couldn't see his expression, but when he squeezed her hand, she turned back. "Well, they didn't catch that, so sent teams out in boats to scout the islands. But eight of their people went missing during the searches and they were no closer to finding the island, so Domitian agreed to accept a job from Dressler to be a chef on the island to help them locate it. The plan was for them to track his phone to find the island, but Dressler didn't really want Domitian for the chef job. That was apparently just bait to get him here. The moment he got on the helicopter to fly here, he was knocked out. He was then dumped on the little island with me. That was the day before yesterday. Or maybe it was the day before that now," she added uncertainly, exhaustion slowing her thinking. Finally she stopped trying to work out the day count and simply said, "This is the third morning since both of us woke up on the island."
There was silence for a minute and then Thorne asked, "This special police force is going to storm the island?"
It was hard to tell if he was glad or concerned, Thorne's voice seemed to hold both emotions and again Sarita wished the light was better so she could see his face. As the sun rose, lighting in the room slowly got brighter, but it was still full of shadows and Thorne seemed to be in the darkest shadow in the room.
"They want to," she said firmly. "But they can't until they figure out where it is. As I say, they were hoping to track Domitian's phone, but Dressler must have destroyed or disabled it or they'd already have stormed the island, taken Dressler into custody, and freed the people he's taken."
"But why would El Doctor put you on the little island with this man, Chiquita?" her grandmother asked.
"Probably to harvest eggs," Mrs. Dressler said grimly, saving Sarita having to answer.
"He wouldn't need the man for that. Just Sarita," Thorne said, and the familiarity with which he used her name startled her. He spoke her name as if he had known her for years. But then, perhaps he too had been there for the letter readings, she thought. Perhaps like Mrs. Dressler he felt he knew her from her writings.
A crooked smile claimed her lips. It seemed like everyone in this room knew all about her life and had known of her and felt connected to her for years, Domitian with his private detective reports, and the rest of them from her letters. She was the only one who didn't or hadn't known much in return. She hadn't known about Domitian at all, and other than mentioning their names, her grandmother hadn't said much about Thorne or Elizabeth Dressler, and hadn't revealed much about herself either . . . like that she'd been a prisoner here all these years.
"Perhaps he was hoping for some fertilized eggs," Mrs. Dressler said into the silence.
"He couldn't have expected my little Sarita to have sex with a stranger," her grandmother protested at once. "She's a good girl."
Sarita winced at those words, and felt Domitian squeezing her hand gently.
"I wouldn't put it past Ramsey to have put drugs in whatever food and water he supplied to get whatever he wanted," Elizabeth said gently in response and then turned her head back toward Sarita and Domitian and added, "It's good you left the little island. Whatever reason he had for putting you there could not be good. But why come here?" she asked almost plaintively. "This is even less safe for you than the little island."
"That is my fault," Sarita admitted. "Domitian wanted to swim for the mainland, but I found a half-written letter from you, Mrs. Dressler, to someone named Margaret. It was tucked in a book in the office. In it you mentioned that this island was about half an hour or forty-five minutes north of the little island by fishing boat. That seemed manageable, whereas we weren't sure how far the mainland was.