They’d just rounded a sharp left-hand curve, but they’d not passed a hospital. Hilton looked around for signs of a hospital, which soon came in the form of a small roundabout that featured a sign for a hospital, which became visible later, when the trees on the left-hand side of the road thinned.
Soon the road curved softly right, then passed a petrol station, before another right-handed curve. Almost immediately was the sharp left. Hilton looked for a spot to pull over.
His eye caught a glimpse of something red in the trees to the right side of the road.
“Stop, stop!” he said.
“There’s nothing here,” she said.
“Just wait here,” Hilton said, getting out.
After checking for traffic — of which there was none — Hilton hurried across the road and through a few trees. There was an open area beyond them, but then what looked to be more trees.
Hilton listened for sounds, but heard nothing aside from the surf and the engine of the sporty car he’d left behind.
Cautiously he turned on the flashlight of his mobile, which reflected something amber-orange to his right.
He hurried forward and saw a people carrier with no one inside of it. Something about the sight made him uneasy.
Nonetheless, he urged himself to approach the vehicle and held his hand over the bonnet. It was warm. It’d just been running.
Looking around it, Hilton saw footprints in soft soil heading to his left.
He followed them into the trees before the land dropped and he had to pocket his mobile so he could use both hands to hold onto trees as he scrabbled down the slope. How in the world had they gotten Dr. Stiles down this kind of drop?
The trees ended, but the land continued for the shortest of distances before the sea glistened in the beam of his flashlight.
Shutting it off, Hilton looked at the water beyond and saw lights that looked like a boat, again.
They were further out than the lights at San Juan, and Hilton — for what was probably the first time in his life, if he was honest — rued the fact that he’d never learned how to swim.
If he could swim he’d dive into the sea, pursue the boat, get Meinwen off, and bring her back to the hotel. But he couldn’t, so he just had to watch and listen to the surf as it lapped rather sedately against the shore.
He had no idea how long he’d stood there, watching the lights, before his mobile startled him again.
Looking at it revealed to him another message from Meinwen.
We’re on another boat. I’m locked in a cabin.
Hilton swore at himself. He should’ve hired a car. He’d have been able to move faster if he’d had his own car.
Moments later he noticed that the lights of the boat were moving in such a way as to turn away from him, and after a moment he heard an engine not unlike that of M. Bonheur-Gagnon’s yacht rev.
Now he’d have to wait and see where Meinwen ended up next and find a way to follow her there.
Pronunciations:
M.: mihsyuhr
Bonheur: bohneuhr
Gagnon: gahnyo'
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