The sun rose above a picture postcard sea. Gentle waves slowly lapped long sandy beaches, the calm sea, transparent and turquoise near the shore, transforming abruptly to a vivid deep blue as the coral shelf plunged into the depths further off the island.
It was going to be a beautiful day.
Not so for Kerrin. The past few days had been a living hell. He had arrived at Nassau airport and been greeted by an airport official who had escorted him to a private room, where a female police officer had been comforting his sister. She had spent the night in a hotel, and had been asked to return to the airport the next day to help the police and the airport officials with their enquiries.
Although technically Martin's Lear Jet had not yet entered official Bahamian air space when it vanished, they had been tracking the flight on their radar and had been in voice contact with the pilot. Questions were going to be asked, and if there was going to be an air crash investigation, the trail would start at the air traffic control centre in Nassau.
Elizabeth was in a terrible state. Only after quite a bit of persuasion from Kerrin, had she agreed to take a tranquilliser and go back to the hotel for some sleep. A female police officer had looked after the children for the day, neither of whom had yet been told about the death of their father.
After two days it was becoming clear that there was not really going to be any big investigation. The search for the wreckage and Martin's body had been called off after forty-eight hours. Two helicopters and a light aircraft had scanned the area where the plane had disappeared from the radar, and two ships had criss-crossed the surface of the sea where the plane would have come down. After they had found several pieces of floating fuselage, one with a large letter 'K' written on it, part of the plane's identity number, the search for survivors was abandoned.
It seemed that why the plane had crashed was a mystery that no one would ever be able to explain. It struck Kerrin that since it had happened in international airspace, there was a lack of motivation and accountability for the Bahamian officials to spend any more time or money investigating the cause of the crash.
Four days after the plane accident, Kerrin had taken his sister and her children to the airport and seen her off on an airplane back to the States. She would be met at the airport in Arizona, where she would spend a few weeks with their other sister Jane on their country ranch. Peace and quiet and rest. That's what they needed now.
He stood on the balcony of his hotel room overlooking the bay, watching the holidaymakers and tourists scurrying onto the beach to claim their portion of sun for the day.
It was only 9 a.m. but already most of the beach beds were occupied.
He had always wanted to come to the Bahamas, but had never been able to find the time nor money, and then after his wife had been crippled, overseas travel had become very difficult. Now he was finally here, it was under the worst possible circumstances, and he wasn't in the mood to do any relaxing.
The memory of Elizabeth crying uncontrollably in the small airless office at the airport kicked him hard, and he winced at the thought of the pain she must be going through.
Apart from Dana, he loved his sister more than any other person alive. She and Martin had made a brilliant couple. Sure, they had had their problems, but so did everybody. Martin was a workaholic, never really spent enough time at home with the kids or Elizabeth. At first she had hated playing the patient mistress to his work, but after a few years she came to accept it, taking comfort from the fact that Martin was driven by the will to save lives and was working on something that one day could change the world. Or so he always claimed. Truth was that neither Elizabeth nor Kerrin really understood exactly what it was that Martin did. It was just too complicated.
Kerrin and Dana owed a lot to his sister and her husband. After their accident, they had spent several months at Martin's house in Florida. Their nephew and niece had helped to take their minds off themselves, and Elizabeth had been a tower of strength. Without her, Kerrin didn't know how he would have got through it all.
After the accident Kerrin needed to spend more time with Dana, and it was obvious he couldn't carry on being a cop in Miami: it was too dangerous, the hours were too long, and Dana worried too much. Now she depended upon him, he could no longer take risks with his own life. He needed to be there for her. To look after her. It was Martin who suggested the job at the Washington Post, and he had pulled a few strings on Kerrin's behalf to help get him the interview.
It was tough making the move to Washington, but the job at The Washington Post, in theory, should have been quite interesting. "Being an investigative journalist," he was promised, "is an exciting job. With your background, you'll do great!"
Well, so far, it wasn't working out as exciting as he had hoped for. Too much 'desk' and not enough 'action'.
Still, he owed a lot to Martin and Kerrin was grateful. Unfortunately, he had never really got to know Martin well and now he was dead, Kerrin wished he had made more of an effort to talk to the man his sister had chosen to marry.
Martin was an intellectual. Never really got emotional, or showed that he was upset. A straight talker, independent and strong, he didn't exaggerate, and always called it like it was. If Martin had told Elizabeth that he had needed Kerrin's help, and that 'it was important', then Kerrin knew that it had to be something big.
It was the first time Martin had asked Kerrin for anything, and dead or not, Kerrin still owed it to him to find out what had happened.
He had decided to stay on in Nassau another two days, wanting to spend more time with the authorities and hoping to gain some information, or a few leads to go on.
He had already placed a call to his boss on the newspaper in Washington and had managed to persuade him into financing his trip to the Bahamas. He had been working at the Washington Post for just over five years now, and although he wasn't the best writer or journalist on the newspaper, he was pretty high up there in the ranking of upcoming stars. So far he hadn't come across any Watergate exposés or Iran-Contra affairs, but there had been the Albuquerque Housing Scandal, and the Wright Fund Fraud. They had both been his. It was only a few years, Kerrin reckoned, before he got his own column.
"Listen Paul," he told his boss on the phone earlier. "I can't guarantee anything, but I think I'm onto something. A group of top researchers working for a genetics company, officially lose their jobs and then all commit suicide in the space of one week. And then last night, the last surviving member is trying to escape to the Bahamas, when his plane mysteriously disappears."
"What do you mean 'escape'? " Paul replied. Kerrin could hear the tell-tale sounds of his boss pushing back his chair, and putting his feet up on his office desk. He had taken the bait.
"An inside contact told me he was trying to get abroad as soon as possible before he was found dead just like the others. He didn't want to become another suicide. I was meant to meet him here, then the next thing you know, his plane vanishes."
"Could be coincidence?"
"Could be, but unlikely. With your permission I want to sniff around a bit and see where it takes me?"
There had been a moment’s pause. 'Sniff around' invariably meant 'expense account' and things had become tight at the newspaper recently. Sales were down.
"Okay, Kerrin. Okay. But you're not one of the big time front page guys yet, so go easy on the cash. No five star hotels. Call me in a few days and let me know what you get. In the meantime, I'll give your other work to Ed Harper. Any problem with that?"
"None. Ed's a good guy." Kerrin replied, trying to hide his feelings towards the new man on the paper. Ed was hungry just like Kerrin was, and if he was completely truthful, Kerrin was jealous of him.
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He closed the balcony window and stepped back into the bedroom, pausing to look at himself in the full-length mirror hanging on the wardrobe door.
The job at The Washington Post didn't really give him the chance for much exercise. In the past t
hree years, he had really begun to put on weight, and now he looked in the mirror he realised just how much it had begun to show.
He was no longer the young man he used to be. He was only thirty eight, but he looked it. He was tall, just short of six-foot, broad-shouldered and still quite muscular. Last time he had checked he was 178 pounds. When he had been on the force, he had an amazing six pack, was well toned, fit, and the girls loved him. Kerrin knew that it was his looks that had first attracted Dana to him the night they met at the Police Ball. Unfortunately, now that he was stuck behind a desk at The Post most of the time, the extra pounds had begun to roll themselves too easily into what his English friends would call a 'beer-belly', and what Elizabeth called his 'one-pack'.
Thankfully, it wasn't too late to save his figure. A bit of exercise and Kerrin would be able to get back the body he used to have.
"I need to go to the gym!" he promised himself. "…Just as soon as I finish this story."
He had been promising himself that for the past five years, but had never got round to it. Once he had even paid the membership fees and joined a local health club. Although he never went once, the mere act of joining made him feel better for a month, and he told all of his friends how much healthier he was going to become…then the excuse wore off, and he just never seemed to mention it again.
Luckily, while many of his friends had long ago lost most of their hair, Kerrin still had a full head of brown locks, which were perfectly coordinated with his dark brown eyes.
All in all, in spite of his 'beer' belly, Kerrin was a good looking man. But his best feature was his fantastic smile. When Kerrin smiled at someone, the other person had no choice but to smile back. It was unfair, but people couldn't help but like him. He made them feel happy. A useful skill which helped whenever he was chasing a story and Kerrin was trying to befriend people and encourage them to divulge information.
Hopefully the smile would work its magic in the next few days.
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That morning he made no progress in coaxing more information from the airport authorities, so he decided to take a drive up the coast to the north part of the island, and to talk to the captains of the boats that had found the plane wreckage. Maybe there would be a clue there. If nothing else, it would be a pleasant drive, and it would give him the chance to plan what he would do when he returned to the States.
Chapter 4
Wharf Tavern
Paradise Island
Bahamas