“Yeh, man.” Darnell was more daring, walking fearlessly to the edge. “He went over right here. All the way down to the water.” He pointed over the ledge, then smacked his palms together.
Sidney stopped a few feet from the edge, bent at the waist, and took a hesitant glance over the threshold. Her stomach rose into her throat. It was a long way down. She lookedbehind her. The camera crew was just now arriving after capturing the staircase from the angles she requested. Sidney walked over to Leslie Martin, her producing partner, turned back to look at the clearing and the bluff and the pristine view of Pitons Bay sparkling with afternoon sun. She put her arms out wide.
“I need a full shot of this view. A first-person perspective, coming around the bend and witnessing the bluff and the clearing and the bay. We’ll need to get a shot at sunset as well, with the sun in the backdrop and long shadows creeping toward the camera. That’s about the time he was killed.”
“I can see the promo,” Leslie said. “Gorgeous, but eerie.”
Sidney nodded. “Get a blanket up here, too. With a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Low shot, okay? Ground level, with the glasses in the foreground and the setting sun behind them.”
“You’re a genius. I love it,” Leslie said.
“It was a long time ago,” Darnell interrupted. “When that boy went over the edge. What is the interest so many years later?”
“Research.”
“For a book?”
“No, a film.”
Darnell’s bright smile appeared again. “A movie?”
“Documentary.”
Sidney walked back onto the bluff as her camera crew prepared to film the area where Julian Crist was killed. She enjoyed a moment of solitude as she looked out over the ocean, and then down to Sugar Beach, where vacationers strolled hand in hand, their footsteps melting in the sand.
“Okay, St. Lucia. Tell me your story.”
The Girl of Sugar Beach
“Pilot” Episode *Based on the interview with eyewitnesses from the scene
They were celebrating in St. Lucia and had chosen this morning, the day of their twentieth wedding anniversary, to watch the sunrise. With dark outlines of the twin Pitons rising on either side of Sugar Beach, like broad-shouldered guards on night watch, the couple strapped into their kayaks in the predawn hours. The sky was still dark and the moon was the only light that guided them as its charcoaled brightness fell softly across Pitons Bay. Sugar Beach, situated on the west side of the island, offered the perfect locale for sunsets. To witness the sunrise, vacationers needed to navigate across twelve miles of mountainous terrain to reach the eastern side of St. Lucia. The other option was to take to the ocean. A five-mile paddle over calm water brought kayakers to the southern tip of the island, just past Vieux Fort, and presented an unfettered view to the eastern horizon.
They clicked on their headlamps as they took off through the darkness, hugging the shoreline around Gros Piton. They stayed fifty yards off the coastline, keeping a good pace of nearly three knots. It was a strenuous workout they had undertaken many times before. They maintained a tandem formation, him in front of her so she could utilize his draft. After an hour of paddling, the black inkiness of night melted as acerulean glow took to the sky. After three miles, he fell back and allowed her to take the lead until the southern portion of the island jetted away from them to the southeast. Here they kept a straight tack that took them farther offshore, a more direct line that eventually rendered a clear sight line to the horizon.
When they made it past Vieux Fort, floating in the middle of the Caribbean Sea, they pulled their kayaks together and drank from their water bottles. Their breathing came under control just as the sun emerged from the ocean. A magnificent sight, the tip of the sun pierced the horizon and the couple leaned over the edges of their kayaks and kissed.
After ten minutes, the sun was bright and its reflection spread from the horizon to capture their kayaks in its glow. They turned and started their journey back to Sugar Beach. The twin peaks in the distance acted as their navigational tool. With a steady northwest current, it took just over an hour to make it back to the base of Gros Piton, where they clung to its structure and paddled around its base. One final turn and Sugar Beach came into view. Still too early for resort life, the beach was empty but for a few early-morning walkers. The huts were vacant, and the bungalows void of activity. A few staff members prepared lounge chairs and hustled dishes and glassware to the beach bar.
She glided the kayak paddle through the water on the left side, then dipped the paddle into the water to her right. She’d repeated the same process for the past three hours. This time, however, her paddle didn’t glide smoothly through the water, but instead struck a solid object. She jerked, scaring herself that a sea animal was ready to capsize the kayak. But when she looked into the water, she saw immediately that it was no animal.
Her scream was nearly enough to topple her husband, who was a few yards ahead and preparing to exit his kayak and step into the shallow waters off Sugar Beach. He pivoted in a quick U-turn as his wife continued in hysterics, slapping her paddle at the water in an effort to get away.
When he came up beside her, his stomach turned. The body floated on its stomach, arms and legs outstretched like a skydiver in midflight. A cloudy swirl of blood muddied the crystal-clear waters.
CHAPTER 3
“WHAT’S THE INTEREST, MS. RYAN?” INSPECTORCLAUDEPIERREasked.
A tall, thin man with hair so short his scalp was visible, Pierre had run the investigation division of the St. Lucian police force for the past two decades. A native St. Lucian, born and raised, he was a product of the island and the school system, and was an example of how hard work and determination could bring you to the top of your occupation. It was the same here on a small island as in any large city in the United States. Sidney had done her research on Inspector Pierre, and knew him to be a terribly proud man of his homeland and his role within it.
“I’m filming a documentary about Julian Crist, and looking for anyone who had knowledge about the case. Anyone who might be able to offer details.”
“What is the nature of the documentary?”
“To tell the truth about what happened to Julian Crist. It will air in the States. I’m in St. Lucia on a fact-finding mission to gather details about the case and take some footage. My studio floated me a slim budget to get my crew down here to see if there’s enough to run with.”
“Enough what, Ms. Ryan? The Julian Crist case was closed many years ago. The truth has already been told.”
