Tourist Trapped (13 page)

Footsteps neared the shed, the second set too heavy for the girl.
Trent?
The door flew open and her husband stumbled in. Rebecca jumped up and clung to him like a life-ring in the middle of the ocean. “I got worried when I didn’t see you yesterday.”

“I’m okay.”

She released him and inspected his body in the meager rays of moonlight that wended their way into her jail: a new black eye, and deeper rope burns around his wrists. His stubble had morphed into a full beard, and dirt and blood covered his tattered buttercream polo shirt and khaki shorts. The scent of his sweat had ripened, akin to the haunting aroma of the homeless she encountered in Chicago.

“No sign of Hector; I think they killed him,” Trent said.

The boat captain dead, were they next? She grabbed at her chest, to calm her racing heart. “Tell them. Give them Dad’s phone number. He’ll take care of the ransom.”

Trent’s head dropped into his grimy hands. “I did, Rebecca—I hated to do it because I’m afraid they’ll kill us if they get the money, but I had no choice.”

She caught her breath. “Why, what happened?”

“I heard them talking. We’re in Belize.”

Rebecca dropped to the ground, almost knocking over the slosh bucket. “They’ll never find us here—we’re going to die in this sweat hole!” Tears flooded her eyes, blurring her vision and rolling down her cheeks.

Trent bent down and held her, the perspiration and dirt on his arms melding with the residue on hers. “That’s why I told them. Although it’s a slim chance, I think the ransom is our only way out of this alive.”

“Dad will save us—he’s got to.”

SIXTEEN

Sunday December 13, Morning

Amanda waded through
the surf to the beach and grabbed her towel. The swim hadn’t calmed her mind. All night her brain had spun through the information they had gathered. Another day, another threat, and this time it meant Amanda and Cooper weren’t alone. The eyes she had felt follow her around Cancun belonged to some thug in cahoots with the kidnappers.

“Morning, Boss. I talked to a contact of mine last night.” Cooper appeared from nowhere. “He thinks our rooms might be bugged and that somebody loaded spyware on our laptops.”

A feeling of unease enveloped Amanda, like the skittishness she endured the year she lived in an apartment complex plagued with roaches; the need to react to any movement, no matter how slight. “You think that’s how the kidnappers knew about the boat so quickly?”

“Among other things.”

The feeling of being watched returned. The hairs stood at attention over every inch of her body. “Our friend’s back.”

“I know. How about you sit by the pool and see if you can spot anyone hanging over a balcony. I’ll wander up for a couple of coffees and look for him as well.”

“I’ll need my purse; can you get it for me?” She handed him her key card. “It’s on the bottom shelf of the nightstand.”

Cooper left and she selected a chaise lounge that offered an excellent view of the resort. Unfortunately she didn’t have her sunglasses, so she needed to act casual. She sprawled across the canvas on the chair and rested her head on the raised back.

The early morning sun painted the white-walled resort a rosy pink. The daily morning routines had staff rushing about, sweeping around the pool, wheeling out a cart full of towels, restocking the outdoor bars. None of the workers looked interested in her. A few tourists strolled by and one jumped into the pool for an early swim.

She occasionally glanced up at the rooms to check out the balconies. Couples populated some of them, admiring the view with a coffee mug in hand. Birds serenaded them with their exotic calls, the crashing surf keeping time.

Amanda caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Fifth floor on the end. When she surveyed it during a stretch, she didn’t see anyone, but something told her it held their stalker’s lair.

Cooper hurried back with her purse slung over his shoulder and two coffees in his grip. In that instance, in his navy Izod shorts and white polo shirt, he fit the part of the ever-faithful husband. She understood his wife’s attraction to the slightly pudgy, pasty fellow. Not much in the way of looks, but solid in substance.

“Anything?” He set the coffees on a round, white table and handed her the purse.

“Possibly.” Amanda donned her sunglasses and set up her phone to take pictures. She pretended to make a call and snapped as many photos as she could of the hotel. Hopefully she’d catch one or two of the room under question. Once she filled the memory on her phone, she stowed it.

They sipped their coffees and tried to look nonchalant while they eyed the resort.

“You think they’ve gone through everything in our rooms?” Amanda said.

“Probably, except maybe the safe.”

I think I prefer the cockroaches.

* * *

The piers teemed
with wannabe anglers and fishing crews readying for a day at sea. Chad pulled Amanda to his side, out of the path of a rocketing cart pushed by an overzealous mate. He caught the floral scent of her shampoo.

Back to business
. They picked their way down the docks, threading their way past excited families, adults swapping fish stories, and lots of boat crews greeting their customers. The pair of eyes following his every move no longer bothered him.

Crews
. “Only one fisherman’s missing, right?” Chad scanned the police report. “Doesn’t it look as if most of these boats have at least a captain and one mate?”

“Good catch, Cooper.” She punched him in the arm. “But if they booked a private charter, would there be a need for a crew?”

“It’d be tough to drive the boat and help with fishing.”

“The police said there were two other missing person reports for that day. Could they have been on the charter, too?”

Chad wandered over to a boat where a gray-haired, weathered-faced fellow barked out orders to three hustling young men. “Excuse me. Friends of ours went out on the Ocean Fox the day it disappeared.”

“I heard Hector’s missing. We’ve been watching for his boat and haven’t seen any signs of it.”

“Do you know who his first mate is—and whether he’s missing, too?”

The man waved a gnarled hand at a young man a couple of boats away. “Roberto! Ven aquí.”

A lanky kid jogged over. “What’s up?”

“Hi, my name is Chad Cooper and this is Amanda Sloane. Her sister sailed on the Ocean Fox when it went missing. Are you the first mate?”

“Sí.”

“I’m curious; can you tell me why you weren’t on the boat last Sunday?”

“Hector said he didn’t have a charter, so I worked the Sea King. I was surprised when he showed up with customers. He said it was a last-minute booking and they would be okay without me.”

“Just the three of them went?” Chad said.

“Sí,” Roberto said.

“Did anything seem odd?”

“Como?”

“Strange…um, extraño.” Amanda said.

“No, nada.” The young man pulled off his hat and scratched his head. “They got on the boat and—oh yeah, the fight, I forgot. Earlier in the morning, when Hector loaded supplies, I heard yelling. He was shouting at a man.”

“Did you recognize the fellow?” Chad said.

“No.”

“Was it Trent?” Amanda showed him a photo.

“No. Darker skin and hair.”

“What happened when Trent and Rebecca arrived? Did they get sucked into the fight?” Chad said.

“The man had gone by then. I think the tourists got on the boat and Hector left right away.”

Amanda slid the photo back into her bag. “No boat and no captain, but we have another mystery man.”

* * *

Amanda breezed through
the downtown office supply store like a pro. Chad, impressed by her shopping prowess, chased behind with a cart and offered technical advice. Between carrying her purse over his shoulder earlier in the morning and following Amanda around the store, memories of roaming the mall with Danielle surfaced. Caring for a woman—even a bullheaded boss—gave Chad the sensation of being part of something bigger than himself again, a half to a larger chunk of humanity.

“If we have to keep the laptops with us at all times, we need ones that are as lightweight as possible,” Amanda said as she scanned the computers displayed along the shelf. “Are tablets a better choice?”

“I’d like at least one laptop with a DVD drive and a USB port.”

Once they selected their hardware, they picked up eight disposable phones.

“We’ll need to smuggle the equipment into the resort.” Chad said. “After ditching our tail to come here, we can’t roll in with an armful of bags from an office supply store—nor can we leave the boxes in the hotel.”

“Good point.”

“Let’s dump the wrappings here and pick up shopping bags from some tourist trap on the way back. Let them think we’re typical Americans, more concerned about purchases than people,” Chad said.

“We still have an issue. How do we handle the bug problem until we get the scanner from your friend?”

Amanda and Chad needed to talk freely in their rooms. They could wander the beach on occasion, but sand and sea wouldn’t cut it when they had to dig in for research. His gut churned, thinking about all the conversations the kidnappers overheard. Every plan outmaneuvered thanks to big ears.

“Noise. We need background noise—how about speakers for our iPods?” Chad said.

“Great idea. We can download some environmental crap.”

“Huh?”

“You know, that ocean sounds stuff. Waves crashing against the beach with Yanni or somebody playing over the top.”

“They sell that? As music?”

“You’ve never been to a spa?”

“Me going to a spa would be like you attending a comic con convention,” Chad said.

“A what?”

“Exactly.”

Amanda’s private phone rang and she clicked on the speakerphone. “Hi Ian. You got more pictures for me?”

“Ms. Sloane? This is Genevieve Dunn.” The woman’s voice trembled. “Ian instructed me to call you before they wheeled him into surgery. He went jogging this morning, and a mugger stabbed him.”

* * *

“Cooper, do you
think the two muggings are a coincidence or could they be connected?” Amanda pulled their bags out of the trunk of the taxi, the purchases disguised in ubiquitous Plaza la Fiesta sacks. The salesperson had been more than happy to hand over a pile of the paper totes in exchange for fifty pesos. If their personal gang of goons wanted to determine where they had gone shopping, hopefully the bags would send them to every Plaza la Fiesta in the city.

“Attacks on your part-time housekeeper in Chicago and your investigator in Miami? The one thing in common is they know you. Are you becoming a dangerous individual with whom to associate?” Cooper grabbed the remaining bags.

“No more than usual. And you’re in one piece. But I think it is, as you say, damned peculiar.” A bad feeling had started twisting her belly the moment Ian’s wife called about the attack. As Cooper said, no obvious connection came to mind between the two of them, but it bothered her. Amanda didn’t believe in coincidences any more than she believed in “happily-ever-afters.”

“Do you want me to pursue the possibility?” He ran up the front steps and into the resort lobby.

Amanda followed, her sandals clicking on the tile floor and echoing off the walls and ceiling. The cavernous room smelled of Lysol, as if freshly scrubbed. “Not at this point. I don’t feel strong enough about it to slow our current slate of investigations. We have too much going already.”

“Wasn’t it odd, what Roberto mentioned? The comment about a last-minute booking,” Cooper said. “Trent and the boat captain had exchanged emails well before the day of the trip.”

“Either Roberto misunderstood or the boat captain lied to him.”

They walked through the lobby, passing carts loaded with the luggage of departing families. Sunburned fathers gathered golden-skinned wives and children for final pictures in paradise.

“Which would mean Mr. Hernandez was involved as well, further confirming the boat as our one tangible lead,” Cooper said, elbowing the elevator button.

“Tangible? It’s gone.”

“Maybe it’s tucked away.”

“What are you getting at?” The elevator doors opened and Amanda entered.

Cooper followed and poked the fourth floor button. “Let’s walk through what we know. Trent reserves a charter about a week in advance. Hector Hernandez claims it’s a last-minute booking and doesn’t hire any staff for the day. An early-morning argument with a stranger. The boat and three people disappear. A bartender at Buho’s warns us to mind our own business. Don and Miriam receive a ransom call, and you get a threatening message.”

“Our pinhead policeman said the bartender was kidding.”

Cooper shook his head. “I don’t buy it. Jokester or not, that bartender meant business. I didn’t see even a hint of mischief in those eyes. That warning was as genuine as your Jenny Choos.”

“Do you mean my Jimmy Choos? Stick with what you know, Cooper—like IBM and, and SQZ.” The elevator doors opened on fourth and Amanda headed down the hall toward their rooms.

“What is SQZ?” Cooper followed, the bags crinkling with each step.

“Every letter combination is some sort of acronym for you people. SQZ has to mean something—maybe you’re not so techie after all. Google it. I’m sure it’ll pop up some sort of Java framework thingy.”

“Where did you hear of a framework?”

“I told you, Lauren and the crew.”

“Someday I have to meet these people.”

Amanda opened the door and they dropped the sacks on the bed. She extricated their haul from the paper totes while Cooper set up one of the iPod speakers to blare an old Spyro Gyra album.

She hated being in a room someone might have bugged. She felt vulnerable. Naked. Amanda moved to the patio where it felt a bit more private. Cooper joined her.

“I’m certain the boat’s our lead. Whatever happened to your sister and Trent transpired on that charter. If we find it, we might uncover something on the vessel to lead us in the right direction—or just by its location we may get closer to finding them.” Cooper’s cell phone vibrated.

“So…the next step is to rent a boat? Then let’s do it.” Action. A plan. No cowering in the corner. No hanging around a bugged hotel room.

“Hang on. I think there’s something we want to do first.” Cooper held up his smartphone. “Hector and Rosa Hernandez reside at 54 Poiniente.”

Another victory for the nerd nation. “How did you get their address?”

“The magic of Fozzy.”

“What’s a Fozzy?”

A knock on the door. Amanda crossed the room, but hesitated before twisting the knob. Cooper’s warning about the death threat lingered like cigar smoke in a limo. She peered through the peephole.

Dad and Miriam.