'If he knew he couldn't bury her here, he must have planned to bury her somewhere else on Delos. Where in hell could that be?'
Tassos shrugged again. 'I think he'd go for the spectacular. He seems the sort.'
'But where?'
Before Tassos could answer, one of the port police shouted from outside, 'Chief, I've found something!'
He was standing behind a pile of rocks next to a wall.
'There's a puddle of water here, and footprints in wet dirt.'
Andreas stared at the footprints and pointed his light at the front of the church. The whitewash was riddled with gray and brown marks — the same color as the rocks he'd tripped over. 'I think our girl's giving him a fight. Looks like she got away and was throwing rocks at him. Don't think she got him, though; and he didn't catch her. At least not here.'
'Why's that, Chief?' asked the officer.
'No body,' said Andreas, 'and the same pair of bare feet moving back and forth behind this pile, then heading south — toward the center of the island. They're all the same footprints,' he repeated as he pointed into the light, 'except for these, a pair of sandal tracks heading south and overlapping the bare feet.'
He looked at Tassos. 'It's the sandals from the cove where we found the motorbike. Looks like he came down those steps' — Andreas pointed the light north — 'and is following her tracks — something we've got to start doing right now.' His voice was urgent.
Andreas told the other port cop to get their brightest portable lights off the boat. 'We want him to know we're looking for him.'
Tassos said, 'I think your two rounds into the door did a pretty good job of that.'
Andreas wasn't sure if Tassos was making a joke. 'Let's get going,' he said to Tassos and the officer who found the tracks. To the cop heading back to the boat he yelled, 'Catch up to us with those lights and tell the lieutenant to keep an eye on the Zodiac — just in case he doubles back.' He held the beam of his flashlight snug against his chest so Tassos could see his face. 'Maybe she's still alive.'
'Maybe.' Tassos' voice held no enthusiasm. 'Then again, there's a reason the guy brought her to a place where no one's been allowed to die for twenty-five hundred years.' His light moved to the rocks scattered by the door. 'That's ending tonight.'
24
Annika's move south along the narrow dirt footpath from the church to the upper path was taking much longer than the few minutes she thought it would. She'd gambled that he'd gone north because the church was Delos' northern-most structure and he only had to climb a low hill to reach the path above her. If he'd taken the gully to the south, there was the Stadium Quarter's maze of excavated walls, wells, and foundations to negotiate in the dark just to reach the path she was on. Going north was the obvious choice for someone in a hurry. Still, her heart jumped to her throat every time she inched past an excavation. She knew he could be waiting for her in any one of them.
It seemed a lifetime before she reached the upper path and was on open ground in familiar territory. It was as close to a sense of relief as she'd felt since her nightmare began. She could see if someone was in front of her, avoid places where he might be hiding, and move faster — if only her legs would respond beyond a drunken stagger. She couldn't seem to run no matter how hard she tried — nor could she breathe through her nose. She'd been so focused on escaping she'd forgotten all about that — and the pains in her belly and below.
Without stopping, she worked her fingers at her nostrils until she found an edge to get at with her nails. She pulled slowly. She didn't know what to expect but, in the surreal tale that her life had become, was not surprised at finding tampons in her nose. She didn't care about the pain — just wanted to breathe — and pulled them out as best she could.
Annika noticed something else. She was cold, very cold. Even in July, Delos was cold at night, particularly out in the open with the wind picking up as it had. What made matters worse was the soaking wet dress. She pulled it off as she stumbled forward and wrung it out as best she could. She thought of putting it back on, but it still was too damp to wear. Fitting the shoulder straps over her head, she wore the dress down her back like a cape. It would dry faster in the wind that way.
She was between the stadium and the northeast corner of the Lake Area ruins, headed south toward the middle of the island, when she came upon a half-dozen or so houses about a quarter-mile from the center of the ancient town. They were built as a concession to the modern practicality that those working Delos' archeological digs and protecting its sites from plunderers and mischief makers needed housing. Newer ones were built more out of sight, on the southern tip of the island. One house sat only about twenty-five yards to the east of her, beyond a low stone wall running along the eastern edge of the narrow dirt road the footpath had become. It curved south toward the Archaeological Museum, a quarter-mile away. The other houses were to the west across flat, open ground, with the nearest forty yards away and the rest at least twice that.
There wasn't a light or sign of life in any of them. Maybe everyone was living in the new ones to the south? She thought of yelling but doubted she'd be heard above the wind blowing in from the north — even if anyone was there to hear her. The only one listening for certain was him. He was back there somewhere, and she knew it was only a matter of time — possibly minutes — until he found her.
The houses were her only hope of finding help before dawn — but that choice could lead to catastrophe. If she went for the houses and they were empty, she risked him catching up to her before she reached the high ground that she thought gave her the best chance of holding him off until the morning. Morning seemed an eternity from now… and that place was another quarter-mile past the museum, at the far southeast side of the ruins.
She took a deep breath and decided to gamble on the houses — but on the ones to the west. Even though they were farthest away from the road she wanted to stay on, there were more of them, so the odds seemed better. She did a quick scan behind her, saw nothing, and headed toward them. She was almost at the first one when she heard two gunshots. They came at her on the wind from the north, from the direction of the church — and the way he'd be coming. Certain they'd been aimed at her, she fell to the ground for cover.
Her mind was racing but her body didn't move. He has a gun! She waited for the next rounds but heard only the wind. Slowly, she lifted her head and looked toward the houses. Not a single light had come on, not a sound from a door or window opening. Maybe the wind had swept the sound away from them — or maybe no one was there. Then she thought, if he has a gun, I'm not safe in those houses even if people are there. I must get to where I can defend myself — against him and his gun.
She stared north, looking for movement — and found it coming steadily south on the road fifty yards north of where she'd left it. 'It's him!' She said the words aloud into the wind. She watched him start to run. He'd seen her. The road was no longer a choice. She had to get away, had to start moving. She crawled up into a crouch and moved as fast as she could to the west, away from the road. She was headed into the ruins over a half-mile from where she wanted to be. It was Delos' flattest and most indefensible part. It felt like hours that she'd been stumbling over walls and excavations — looking over her shoulder on every step, until she found herself standing amidst the fabled marble lions of Delos, on the western side of the ancient city. She stared southeast over the ruins of its Sacred Lake and largest building, the Agora of the Italians. Somehow, she'd have to cross southeast through the heart of the ruins and climb east along Mount Kynthos, Delos' most prominent height, without being caught. She was as far away from where she wanted to be as she could imagine.
She was tired, she was cold, she was hungry, and she was naked. Worse yet, she had no idea where her pursuer was. She hadn't seen him since he stopped at the place where she'd heard the gunshots. He must be ahead of me, she thought, waiting for me to cross the ruins. I know he's out there, waiting to kill me. That thought led to another, a bizarre one that made her smile: I can't believe this; here I am, in a cradle of ancient Greece, being forced to compete for my life and I'm perfectly dressed for the occasion! Naked as all those Olympian boys. She put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. She was afraid if she started, she'd become hysterical — and lose it all.
She stared off toward Mount Kynthos. Fitting, too, she thought, was the place she'd chosen to make her stand: it was what remained of a temple built to honor the pagan deity on Delos probably closest in kinship to Saint
