Cutler’s father put his arms around him and tried to speak, but only croaks and sobs came out. Max never had in all his years witnessed his father like this. It was clear to him his dad was broken-hearted; he was spent. He loved his father and always thought him a strong, safe pair of hands in any situation. He had never factored in the situation where this proud man would lose his little girl.
Cutler was hurting like he never had before; his father was being eaten alive.
“Where’s Mom, Dad?” Cutler asked quietly with resignation.
“Erm,” he cleared his throat with a cough, “Bartlett Regional Hospital, ten minutes away.” He slumped down into a chair and put his face into his hands. “She’s sedated. She was distraught. I thought it better we stay here to wait, but it hasn’t helped; if anything, I think it has made it worse,” Stephen said, as he raised his head slightly.
“Now that you are here, I can take her home. I have used the insurance and have a private ambulance plane coming in tonight. I’ve got to get her home, away from this place,” Stephen said through his pain.
“Probably best,” Max replied.
Cutler senior took a deep breath and in a shaky voice continued, “We both know there’s no hope, Max, waiting to drag a body up from out there.” Stephen pointed towards the direction of the sea. “It’s thousands of feet deep. Could be some time, could be never,” he spluttered, with the tears dropping in large globules from his eyes.
“Dad, we both know she’s gone, but you have to be strong for Mom, although I know it’s killing you,” Max said, as he embraced his father.
“I don’t care what they say, she never committed suicide. She was happy right up to the time she went to her cabin. She never committed suicide,” Stephen said, with more steel in his voice.
“Dad, I know. I do not want to upset you any more than you already are, but it must be an accident or more likely murder. After walking through and around the ship today, I think it would be hard to fall overboard by accident. The captain assured me the lifeboat gates had been locked, so to fall over the barriers is nearly impossible. Did Elisa have a drink that night?” Max inquired.
“She had cola all night, that’s all she drank,” Stephen replied.
“So that leaves out accident by shenanigans under the influence. The captain said you would be amazed how many people kill or put themselves at risk under the influence at sea,” Max said.
“He’s blowing smoke up your arse, Max. We told him she had not touched a drop of alcohol. You could tell he did not believe us or did not want to believe us. Convenient excuse if you ask me,” Stephen said, with an equal amount of anger and tears.
“Well, that just leaves murder. You understand that don’t you, Dad?” Max said plainly.
“I do, and so does your mom. We knew the moment the captain said they could not find her anywhere on the ship. She’ll never get over this, son, you know.” Stephen continued, “We’re proud of you, Max. We know how much you enjoy your job, and what skills you have. Give your mom and me some hope. Use your skills to catch the bastard who did this; make him suffer, whether it’s death row or from your own hands, you make him suffer,” Stephen said, his fists clenched.
“Dad, I promise if it’s murder, I won’t rest. It is not going to be easy. It may be the hardest thing I have ever done. But I promise you I will try. I’ll do my utmost to get him,” Max promised.
“You’ve never broken a promise or failed in anything substantial, so that will do for me,” Stephen said, as he tugged Max’s head toward him and kissed him on his forehead. To Cutler, it felt as if his father was saying goodbye.
Stephen sat next to his wife in the ambulance as it went the very short distance to the seaplane, which had been equipped as an air ambulance. The seaplane bobbed up and down on its mooring as the rough sea beneath it swelled and sank. With some difficulty the paramedic, pilot, and co-pilot transferred the stretcher to the dedicated flat area at the back of the plane.
Max had been walking the streets, talking to anyone he could. He showed anyone who would look a picture of Elisa. “Have you seen this girl?” he had asked a hundred people.
He arrived a few minutes before take-off to see his parents off. “I have a meeting with the police chief in fifteen minutes, and over the next few days I’ll go out to the area where Elisa disappeared, so I need to arrange for a boat,” Cutler told his father. “I’ll come home in a day or two to update you and see Mom,” he said, as he stroked her forehead. She had been under constant sedation and had not woken all that day.
The noise increased dramatically, and the propellers sprang to life. The little seaplane started off slowly and fought the swells of water. Eventually, the plane gathered sufficient speed against the drag of the water and wind and staggered into the air.
Cutler could see the aircraft’s wings swaying as it fought to gain height. The clouds reflected Cutler’s mood, dark and angry, with an undertone of violence. Cutler knew he had to control his emotions if he was to keep a clear head and fulfil his promise to his father.
Two hours later, Cutler had showered and changed and was in
