UNITS

By K. M. Winthrop

Medical student Bethany Hastings and her grandmother were enjoying their cruise, a relaxing summer break before Beth resumed her studies.


The cruise ship Vivianne, was a small, intimate ship. Unlike the larger cruise ships which were massive cities, the Vivianne was a pleasant floating village. Passengers enjoyed a variety of activities, interesting ports of call, and fine dining, as well as the companionship of other passengers, while being catered to by an attentive crew. It was the perfect vacation.


Until Beth’s stumbled onto the Vivianne’s deep, dark secret and her idyllic cruise became a nightmare. Because not all the passengers were enjoying the cruise. Below deck, hidden in the bowels of the ship, were ten kidnapped children. Ten little girls who existed in deplorable conditions. Ten little girls who would be smuggled into the country to be groomed and sold as prostitutes.


They were the units.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9798369411568

Book preview

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UNITS

K. M. Winthrop

Copyright © 2023 by K. M. Winthrop.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 11/14/2023

Xlibris

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Contents

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII

Chapter XIX

Chapter XX

Chapter XXI

Chapter XXII

Chapter XXIII

Chapter XXIV

Chapter XXV

Chapter I

I stood on the balcony of our cruise ship, The Vivianne, a lovely name for a lovely lady. She was smaller than the massive cruise ships catering to two or three thousand passengers at a clip and are literally floating cities. The Vivianne was a smaller ship, more intimate and less crowded. Not a bustling city but a friendly village. It had been our home for the last five days. After departing Port Everglades we visited a pair of Caribbean islands after a day at sea. Today we had a wonderful day in a lovely city, Cartagena. Tomorrow another day at sea would bring us to the coast of Panama and we’ll cruise through the Canal the following day. The next ten days will be spent cruising at sea or visiting Pacific ports before disembarking in Port San Diego.

Leaning on the rail of our balcony I took a long, last look at the city. It had been a wonderful day. First, a hop-on, hop-off trolley tour of the city followed by an enjoyable boat ride. A pleasant tropical breeze carried the scent of flowers through the air making the heat bearable. Added to the fun was the companionship of Philip Shelton, a fellow passenger.

This cruise was exactly what I needed. After cramming and studying through four years of college and my first two years of medical school I needed a chance to relax and unwind. At the end of the cruise it would be back to the books for my final two years of medical school. Clinical rotations. Real medicine at last and I was looking forward to it. Best part, the teaching hospital where I would be studying was only fifteen minutes away from our house and I could live at home instead of in a crowded, noisy dormitory.

After my clinicals were completed I could change my current title. Ms. Bethany Marie Hastings would become Doctor Bethany Marie Hastings.

Watching the crew and shore personnel servicing the ship was an event in itself. Trolleys presumably loaded with food and other necessary supplies rolled up to a rear hatch. I watched with fascination at the harmony of motion between the men on the dock and the ship’s crew.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a movement closer to the bow of the ship. A man pushed a hand cart loaded with several packages wrapped in what appeared to be heavy paper. He moved along the pier to the hatch of a lower deck just under the forward passenger gangway. Unlike the dark green coveralls worn by the dock workers and the navy blue uniforms worn by the ship’s crew, he was wearing street clothes. He was a dark-haired man with a swarthy complexion wearing a polo shirt and neat, lightweight slacks. Certainly not what one would expect from a dock crewman. He rapped on the forward hatch. When it was opened another man stepped out onto the dock. He was fair-haired with a fair complexion wearing dark dress slacks and a short-sleeved shirt. After the two men pushed the cart onto the ship, the dark-haired man exited and the hatch was quickly closed behind him.

This really piqued my curiosity. From what I’d seen of the ship’s schematic there was no cargo hold either on the midsection of the ship or forward. More likely this hatch led either to the crew’s quarters on the O deck or the ship’s mechanical systems on the Orlop deck.

A short time later I saw the same man cross the dock pushing another, larger, hand cart. This time the cart was loaded with what appeared to be several large laundry bags. One of the dock crew approached him, apparently offering to help him with the cart and the man refused. His manner appeared somewhat brusk. Once again, he tapped on the hatch. As before, the blond opened it and the men pushed the cart through the hatch, following it onto the ship. When he was on board the hatch was firmly closed.

I couldn’t help but wonder about them. Late arriving crew members? From their attire they looked more like passengers than crew. And why, I wondered, were they boarding from the dock? I saw several crew members returning to the ship. They were all in uniform and they all entered by the gangway that connected the ship to the main terminal.

I was watching the gangway pull away from the terminal when I heard Gram call to me and, reluctantly, I went inside.

Our spacious cabin was perfect. My dorm room was a third-world country in comparison. There were two twin beds, a comfortable couch and coffee table, as well as plenty of drawers, and a large cabinet that served as both dresser and closet. A hutch on the far wall had a built-in cooler and beside it, a desk complete with computer hook-up completed the furnishings. Seaside, privacy drapes covered the sliding doors that led to our balcony.

Hurry and dress, Dear, Gram called. I’m going to go down. I promised to meet the Howells for cocktails. I’ll see you at dinner.

And with that she grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

That was my grandmother. The social butterfly who attracts followers like flowers attract bees. Between her delightfully outgoing personality, outrageous sense of humor, and the slightly risqué stories she delighted in telling, Gram never lacked companionship.

I was only three when my parents were killed in a horrible fire that swept through their office. Gram took me in and raised me as her own. She gave up her prestigious job as head OR nurse and took a job as a nurse practitioner in a doctor’s office so she could be with me nights and weekends. She attended every PTA meeting and every school activity. She was there for every important event in my life. She was a confident when I wanted one and a disciplinarian when I needed one.

I can never remember a time Gram wasn’t there for me when I needed her.

I was still in middle school when I decided I wanted to be a doctor like my parents and from that time on, my grades were my primary focus. First, the need to be accepted into a good college, then a good medical school. And, of course, there was the need to qualify for necessary scholarships. I was dedicated to my books to the exclusion of almost everything else.

Fortunately, Gram would have none of it. Whenever I got too far into my studies she made it her business to ensure that I didn’t become a workaholic. Now, for the duration of the cruise, I was determined to leave my serious side on the pier and concentrate on having fun.

Especially after Gram confiscated the anatomy book I sneaked into my luggage.

I dressed quickly and got down to the dining room just as our group was being seated.

Dinner was a formal affair. Gram, ever the life of the party, requested a table for eight. Our dinner companions were the Howells, an older couple from Canada, Latino parents with their teenage son, and Phil Shelton, a nice-looking young man only a few years older than I am. The Latinos pretty much ignored us, socializing among themselves in Spanish. Gram and the Howells immediately hit it off, which left Phil and I to entertain one another. This was definitely not a problem. As far as I was concerned he greatly added to my enjoyment of the cruise.

Now, Gram announced as we were finishing desert. I’ll leave you youngsters to your own devices. It’s bridge night for the ladies and the boys are going to head to the casino to see how much of a donation they can make tonight. Why don’t you run along to the playhouse? I hear they have a great new show.

Placing her carefully folded napkin beside her plate, she and the Howells flounced rather than walked out of the dining room, turning in the direction of the casino.

The new show was enjoyable as advertised, a little on the naughty side but a lot of fun. Phil excused himself right after the show blaming an early morning appointment at the spa. But I joined a group of young people for an evening of socializing and dancing in the Lido Lounge. It was nearly midnight when I finally got back to our room. Gram wasn’t in yet. Nor did I expect her to be.

I sat down at the desk and fired up my laptop to upload the pictures I took during the day. I was alternately working on my pictures and dozing when I was surprised to hear a noise out on our balcony.

Dozing, indeed, I thought as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and glanced at the clock. It was now after two a.m. After the heat of the day, no doubt Gram was relaxing and enjoying the cool evening breeze. I decided to join her.

I saved my work and shut the computer down before I got up and opened the drapes, peering through the glass on the sliding doors.

But Gram was nowhere in sight. The balcony lights were out and there was only darkness. Sliding the doors open I walked over to the rail. It was a beautiful night. Looking up I could see a sky full of stars. Below me the ocean was calm with just the hint of a chop. The lights of Cartagena were now just a dim glow off in the distance.

I sat down on a deck chair and leaned back, enjoying the soft, cool breeze. It was a long day, pleasant but long, and I started to drift off again. But I was startled awake by the sound of movement behind me. I turned around to find a small figure cringing against the privacy wall that separated our balcony from that of the cabin next door.

Who are you? I demanded. What are you doing on our balcony?

I reached over and switched on the balcony lights.

To my amazement I found a child, probably no more than thirteen years old, flattening herself against the wall. Small in stature and terribly thin she was filthy, her hands and face were streaked with dirt. She was olive-skinned with dark brown eyes and what would someday become classic features. High forehead and cheekbones, long lashes, and a cherub mouth. But her long black hair was matted and dirty. The simple cotton dress she was wearing was filthy as well. And she was barefoot.

She appeared to be terrified.

Her eyes were wide with fear. She was trembling visibly, probably more from distress than the cool night breeze.

It’s all right. I won’t hurt you, I said quietly as I moved toward her.

If she understood she made no sign. She shrunk away from me, cringing as I reached out to her.

Doubtful she speaks English, I told myself. And my Spanish was practically nonexistent.

I won’t hurt you, I repeated, hoping that a soft, gentle tone to my voice might reassure her.

Unfortunately, Gram chose that moment to erupt into the cabin calling, I’m home.

The child started and her face was an expression of terror. She got to her feet, her frightened eyes darting around the balcony, probably seeking the means to escape. I wanted to reach out and hold her, to reassure her. But when I took a step toward her, her face contorted in terror.

Softly, Gram. We’ve got a visitor.

Who? Phil? Well, it’s about time you two got it on.

She bounced out onto the balcony.

The child turned and started to run. She appeared to be heading toward the rail and I stepped in front of her to prevent her.

Not Phil. A little pixie who appeared out of nowhere.

I pointed to the child.

Good heavens! Where did she come from? A stowaway?

I thought back on the procedure we had to go through to gain access to the ship. First a scan of our carry-on bags and purses before we could enter the terminal. Then we presented our tickets and passports to the clerk in the Port Everglades terminal where we received the photo identification that doubled as a boarding pass, room key, and charge card. We were required to show our passports and boarding passes to security to leave the terminal and enter the passenger’s gangway. And finally, a third time, we handed them to the steward at the top of the gangway. After he scanned them into his computer we could actually board the ship. After each shore excursion we were required to show our room keys and passports in order to disembark and reboard the ship. It was impossible to think this terrified slip of a child could slip past that much security to sneak onto the ship.

I doubt it, I answered. Another good question is how she managed to get onto our balcony.

Not too difficult.

Gram pointed to the partition the child was cowering against.

It looks like the cleaning crew didn’t lock the access.

There was a narrow door close to the rail on the partitions that separated the passenger balconies. The crew used them to move along the deck at night when they cleaned the balconies, picking up any dishes or any trash that was left behind. When they were finished they always carefully locked each door to ensure the passengers’ privacy. But the door on the partition between our balcony and the balcony next door was slightly ajar.

Speaking of the cleaning crew, she added. It might be a good idea to take our little visitor inside before they get here. I think we need to do some investigating before we turn her over to the steward.

Good Idea. The poor little thing looks like she’s terrified.

I reached with my foot and gave the partition door a push, making sure I heard the click of the lock engaging. Then I turned to the child, trying to take her hand. But she pulled away from me, wide-eyed with fear.

It’s okay, I said softly, hoping my tone would reassure her. We won’t hurt you.

With the child’s attention fully on me, Gram moved behind her, slipping her arm around her shoulder, and gently easing her toward the cabin door. I followed them, turning off the balcony lights as I slid the door shut. I locked it, closing the privacy drapes.

Now what?

Well, I think some soap and water would be the first order of business and then something to eat. The poor little thing looks like she’s starving. Get me one of your tee shirts, Dear. It will probably be huge on her, but it’s better than that disgusting thing she’s wearing. I’ll tackle the washing detail while you see to the food. Don’t forget to order coffee.

Gram was still in the bathroom working on the cleaning detail when the steward arrived with our tray. Before I let him in I tapped on the bathroom door.

Food’s here.

Gram tapped back.

Feeling sure that she wouldn’t leave the bathroom until she was sure the steward was gone, I let him in. He set the heavy tray on the coffee table, pocketed the tip I handed him, and left the cabin. I locked the door securely and tapped on the bathroom door again to let Gram know the coast was clear.

She led the child into the room a few minutes later.

I stared at her, appalled by what I saw. As Gram predicted, my tee shirt hung loosely on her. However it was a bit short and didn’t fully cover everything that needed to be fully covered. Her black hair was washed and combed and was hanging in a long, thick plait. Now that the grime was washed away I could see the child had been badly abused. There were bruises on her arms and legs as well as some puffiness on her face where she had been struck.

Looks like she was in some sort of a scrap, Gram told me. I think she scratched someone. There was what looked like blood and tissue under her fingernails.

That would probably explain the bruises. Are they new?

Some are. Some of them appear to be healing.

Poor kid, I thought. No wonder she’s terrified.

Gram settled her on the couch and, taking one of the blankets from the bed, she wrapped it around her.

I handed her a sandwich and she dug into it like she hadn’t eaten in a week. From the look of her, she probably hadn’t.

"I tried speaking to her in Spanish but I don’t know if she understood me. She didn’t respond. I’m sure she can hear. She settled down a bit when she heard my voice and she did cry out when I was brushing the snarls out of her hair. It looked like it hadn’t been combed in weeks. She doesn’t look Spanish. I think she may be from one of the indigenous Colombian tribes.

Her clothes are a total loss. I tried, but it was impossible to clean them. Her dress was nothing but a rag and her panties literally disintegrated in my hands. I’m sure she must have come aboard in Cartagena. She couldn’t possibly have picked up that much dirt aboard the ship.

Well, it’s too late to do anything about it tonight. I think we should keep her here and bring her down to the purser’s office tomorrow morning. I wonder what the procedure is for stowaways.

Gram shrugged. I think they turn them over to the authorities at the next port of call. I have no idea what they do with them in the meantime. That wasn’t covered in the brochure. I do know what they do with passengers who conceal stowaways. They also put them ashore at the next port.

We waited until the child finished her sandwich and drank a carton of milk before we settled her on the couch. I guess her fatigue overcame her fear because she cuddled her pillow and fell asleep almost immediately.

Gram was dozing and I had just finished my shower when we heard a scream in the passageway followed by someone pounding on our door. We both jumped up and ran to the door to find the two women who occupied the cabin next to ours standing outside. They were still in their dress clothes and it appeared they had just returned from a night of partying.

On our balcony, one of them cried. We were going out to relax and have a nightcap before bed and we saw it. It was horrible!

I followed them through their cabin and stepped out onto their balcony. Laying on the deck close to the rail was a dark object. I flicked on the lights and immediately knew the reason for their panic. The object was a child, as disheveled and dirty as the child in our cabin had been. But this child was unmoving. It didn’t take my two years of medical school to realize that this child would never move again. An expression of terror was on her face, her eyes were open, and her mouth was agape. There were angry abrasions on her neck and her head was bent at an odd angle. Like the child in our cabin, she appeared to be from an indigenous tribe rather than Spanish.

My God! I gasped.

One would think the hours I spent working on my cadaver in anatomy class would have inured me to the sight of a body. But it didn’t. I stumbled backward, banging against the edge of the doorway as I moved back into the cabin, and I hurried into the passageway trying to ignore the rumbling in my stomach. I managed to make it through anatomy class without losing my lunch and I seriously hoped I would be able to do so now.

The two women ran into the corridor as well, sobbing noisily and clinging to Gram. I pushed past them back into our own cabin and called security. I caught Gram’s eye as I passed her and I immediately knew what she wanted me to do. I gathered up the child, pillow blanket and all, and moved her into the bathroom. Setting her on the floor, I closed the door. I could only pray that she wouldn’t wake up.

Gram brought our neighbors into our cabin and settled them on the couch. She knelt on the floor in front of them, trying to calm them down while we waited for security to arrive.

I hoped their dinners and whatever beverages they consumed were secure because, at the moment, using our bathroom was out of the question.

~ ~ ~

He was dressed in black. Black slacks, a long-sleeved black, form-fitting shirt, with a black stocking cap pulled low over his face. He stood in the shadows and watched the men as they stamped out of the room, slamming and latching the door behind them.

They appeared to be furious about something. He listened to their indistinguishable grumbling as they stamped down the passage way and climbed the steep ladder to the O deck, then a second narrow staircase that brought them to the main passenger deck. They stepped through the hatch, slamming that door as well.

He hesitated, waiting until he was sure they didn’t plan to return. Then he stepped out of the shadows and moved toward the hold. Unlatching the door, he stepped inside the dark room, swinging the door shut as silently as possible.

He took a pair of night vision goggles from his pocket and glanced around the room.

Just to the right of the door was a table and a single chair, the only furnishings. Ten pallets lined up across the floor along the wall on the far side of the room. They were thin, narrow pallets, barely two inches thick without either a pillow or blanket, although considering the intense heat in the room, a blanket would hardly be necessary.

Lying on each pallet a small girl was either sleeping or about to fall asleep. One of the girls who was still awake was sobbing softly. But as sleep overtook her the sound of her sobs died away as well.

Good, he told himself. Although he hated the fact the girls were being drugged, it was easier for them that way.

When he approached the pallets, intending to check on the girls, he realized that pallets number four and seven were empty. They were two of the new girls who were just brought aboard in Cartagena. He looked around, thinking that the girls might have doubled up with one of the other girls or, perhaps, they were trying to hide. But they were nowhere to be found.

Damn! he thought. No wonder these bastards were so ticked off when they flew out of here.

The girls couldn’t have escaped on their own. He was sure of that. Someone must have taken them. But who? True, a few members of the crew had to know what was going on but he doubted any of them would dare take one of the girls out of the room. They knew what would happen to them if they did. The organization had very long arms and an extremely short temper. He wouldn’t want to be in their shoes if the keepers caught up with them.

Quickly he checked each of the remaining girls before removing his goggles. He stepped out of the hold and locked the door behind him.

Avoiding the staircase, he moved rapidly down the long corridor to a small alcove, almost completely hidden by the profusion of wires and cables that ran along each side of the dimly lit corridor. Quickly, he changed out of his black clothes secreting them in the alcove. Then at a brisk pace he continued along the hallway past the engine room to a ladder that led to the O deck. Moving along the deck, past the crew quarters, he ducked into a rest room to wash the dirt and grease from his hands before he casually walked up a second staircase to the main deck.

It wasn’t difficult to blend in with the passengers as he scanned the deck, searching for the two men. But they were nowhere to be found.

No surprise. No doubt they were scouring the ship for the missing girls. The crowded common area was the last place they would be hidden. He moved through the groups of partying passengers and stepped into one of the corridors leading to the passenger cabins.

He knew the ship like the back of his hand, every nook and cranny of it. Every possible place someone or something could be hidden. Quickly and efficiently he began to move through the ship, searching both for the missing girls and their keepers. Moving to the next deck he spotted the two men. The keepers were also searching the ship.

He gave them a quick wave as he passed them.

They didn’t respond, which was not surprising. He didn’t expect them to.

At least he was ahead of them now, meaning they hadn’t found the girls. When he found them, he would have to secrete them somewhere on the ship, out of the men’s reach. To do otherwise would put them in extreme danger. Not only had they seen the ship, but they could identify the man who took them from the hold as well.

When he reached the third deck, he heard the sound of a disturbance. He started toward the source of the commotion as several security guards hurried past him.

Trouble, he thought as he quickened his pace. He followed the officers down the corridor and saw a crowd of people, both crew and passengers, milling around.

What’s going on? he asked one of the security officers.

The officer glanced around as though he was hoping none of the passengers would overhear him. Then he answered him in a low voice.

10-54, I’m afraid. The passengers in this cabin went out onto their balcony and found her.

10-54. A fatality. Damn!

He moved past the officer and entered the cabin. No one made a move to stop him as he walked out onto the balcony.

That’s where he saw her.

She was young, no more than eleven or twelve. Her black wavy hair fell across the deck in a mass of tangled curls, and her dark eyes stared unseeing at the sky. She was petit and cute, even in death. A promise of beauty that would never be fulfilled.

She hadn’t been dead long. No more than two or three hours, he thought, although he couldn’t examine the body to tell for sure. She still appeared to be flaccid with rigor mortis just beginning to set in. The deep abrasions on her neck indicated that she had been strangled. Her ragged clothes were disheveled, torn, and dirty. Her tattered panties were around her ankles.

Number four or seven, he wondered as a sinking feeling came over him.

There was no sign of the other girl. That was good. He could only hope she managed to escape and didn’t see what happened to this child. If she did she would be expendable. He could only hope he’d be able to find her before the keepers did. If they found her first, he would be too late to save her.

He turned away. Moving back into the cabin, back into the hallway and, pushing through the crowd of sightseers, he retreated down the corridor.

He melted back into an alcove, watching as curious passengers entered the passageway, rubbernecking to see what was happening before they drifted back to their cabins. It was some time before the keepers arrived. They separated when they arrived at the cabin, each mingling with a different group of passengers. He moved back toward them, trying to overhear their conversations.

But their questions were innocuous. Someone died? Oh, how horrible. Was it a passenger? How did it happen?

Unfortunately, they didn’t get much information other than the body that was found by the cabin’s occupants was not a registered passenger of the cabin. He noted, however, that they did make a note of the cabin number. Probably for future investigation.

He decided that he’d better keep an eye on the occupants. When the keepers wanted information, they had no reservations about what they needed to do to get it.

The security guards stepped into the corridor, ordering the onlookers to disburse, probably because they were about to remove the child’s body. He decided to wait until she was placed in the morgue when he would be able to gather evidence without fear of being detected. Mingling with the crowd until they reached the elevators, he deftly managed to get on the same elevator as the keepers.

It would be interesting to see if they were going to continue their search or if the body on the balcony satisfied their curiosity.

Back on the Orlop deck, he changed into his black clothes and blended into the shadows outside the storage cabin used as the ship’s morgue. The child’s body had been placed there and the ship’s doctor arrived shortly after to examine it. However, his examination was brief and routine at best. All too soon, he, the ship’s captain, and the chief security guard exited the room and returned to the upper deck.

Once again, he waited until he was sure he was alone before he entered the room. He photographed the child’s injuries using a small camera from his pocket. Then he took a nail file and cleaned under her fingernails, depositing the scrapings in an evidence bag. A DNA swab he swiped on the inside of her cheek was sealed in a second bag. Finally, he pressed her fingers on plastic slides and put them in a third bag. He wrote the date and time on the bags before he signed his name and, laying all three bags on the child’s body, he took another photograph before he sealed the memory card from his camera in a final bag.

He turned out the room’s light before opening the door and stepping into the corridor.

Returning to his alcove, he deposited the evidence he collected in a black case before changing out of his black clothes and returning to the passenger area.

Chapter II

It was a long night. Two security officers questioned our neighbors at length before, finally, they were moved to another cabin with the promise that their things would be packed and delivered to them. When the women were gone, they moved on to Gram and me. Did we hear any sounds from the balcony next door? Did we see anyone?

I was able to answer their questions truthfully, up to a point that is. I got in about midnight and I was working on my computer, I told them. No, I didn’t hear any sounds coming from the cabin next door or their balcony. However, I carefully omitted the fact I heard noises coming from our balcony and I definitely saw someone there. Fortunately, they didn’t ask.

When they turned their attention to Gram, I walked over and stood by the bathroom door, ready to pop in quickly in case the child woke up and made some sound. Gram sat on the couch, trying to keep the security guards’ attention on her as she answered their questions carefully. She got in quite late, only a few minutes before the woman next door discovered the body. No, when she got home she didn’t see anyone in the corridor or hear any suspicious sounds from the cabin next door.

Finally they ended their interrogation and they left the cabin.

But our ordeal wasn’t over. We couldn’t help but overhear the sounds emanating from the cabin next door while the security team investigated the little girl’s murder.

We settled the child on the couch again. It was fortunate that she didn’t wake up when we moved her to the bathroom and she continued sleeping soundly when we returned her to the couch. Although Gram and I had a full day and we were both tired, we were unable to sleep. Instead we sat on our beds and, in hushed voices, tried to decide our best course of action.

When we found the child we agreed we would bring her down to the purser’s office in the morning. However, that was before the body of the second girl was discovered. Now we were faced with a dilemma.

A