Tourist Trapped (18 page)

Another set of docks. Juan traveled along each row. The day had been as thrilling as enduring a
Jersey Shore
marathon. “No Ocean Fox,” she yelled and the sea captain sped up until the next fleet of watercraft.

“Not a lot of resorts on this side of Kukulcan Boulevard,” Cooper said, lowering his binoculars. “Mainly restaurants and residences.”

“And a golf course,” Juan yelled down. “You Americans like the beach. No sand on this side, so we find other uses.”

A heron rose out of the water, flapping enormous wings and coiling its neck into an “S.” Once over the trees, his slow, stately rhythm evinced a majestic quality.

With every minute that passed, Amanda grew tenser. They had until Thursday night to crack the kidnapping wide open or they risked losing Rebecca—if she weren’t already dead. Eighty hours left.

Tito made a few trips from the galley, laying out platters of fresh fruit, vegetables, fried onions, and cooked beef. He unwrapped a pile of warm tortillas.

Juan cut the engine and the four of them relaxed on the deck, downing the food along with lemonade for the crew and bottles of Corona for the Americanos.

The handmade flour tortillas had texture and a deeper flavor than the ones found in supermarkets back home. The caramelized onions and spicy beef blended with the cool, sweet tomato and avocado, finished with a mild salsa verde. Amanda saved the pineapple for dessert. Its firm flesh and burst of sweetness made her look forward to fresh pineapple almost as much as guac.

“Juan, where do you think we should go next?” Amanda bit into a filled tortilla, the juice dripping onto her plate.

“We’ve covered most of the docks on the populated side of the lagoon. We have a few more to go and then we can sweep the open shore.”

“How long do you think that’ll take?” Cooper wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“It’s a big lagoon, but we should cover it by the end of day. It’ll be easier to spot a boat on wild shoreline than in the middle of a pier full of yachts.”

“Could they have changed the name on the boat?” Tito asked. “Or maybe repainted it?”

They all groaned. “That would mean we’d lose the one lead we have,” Amanda said.

“Juan, how often does someone disappear in these types of situations?” Cooper said.

“A few years ago, I’d say never. But bad things happen in Cancun these days.”

“Like the bartender in the paper this morning,” Tito said.

Amanda cocked her head. “What happened?”

“They found a popular bartender from Buho’s in the cemetery at Isla Mujeres,” Tito said. “Stabbed to death.”

TWENTY-ONE

Monday December 14, Late Afternoon

Chad had helped
Tito haul the day’s garbage and remaining supplies out of the boat while Amanda touched base with her accountant. When they finished cleaning up, Chad shook hands with Juan and Tito. “Thanks for your help today. We’ll see you again tomorrow, bright and early.”

“I’ll make sure to bring guacamole for la dama hermosa,” Tito said, a mischievous grin working its way across his face.

“Dama what?”

“He said for the beautiful lady,” Juan said.

“He’s got that right.” Chad watched her pace the dock as she worked out the details with her accountant that would, in one fell swoop, knock her assets down by a million. So much for being hard-nosed—she had folded like a lawn chair in a windstorm. He’d known for months the flames spewed by this fire-breathing dragon were lots of flash without much heat. Beneath her armor lay tender skin.

She caught his eye and smiled, giving a thumbs-up. In his gut he knew surrendering the money was a potential death trap for Rebecca, but he understood Amanda’s need to plunk down the cash.

Chad sympathized with the Sloane family’s frustration of facing the unknown. Been there, done that, with his search. He hoped Rebecca’s rescue was far less painful than the five-year ordeal that continued for him yet another day. Danielle must have found a helluva hideout this time.

Art buzzed on his cell phone. “Something’s popped up on Lisa James.”

“The murdered prostitute in Miami?”

“I couldn’t find much on her, other than a long arrest record, but the police charged her boyfriend, Brady Gray, with the homicide. I’m digging into his life as we speak.”

“Thanks, Art. I appreciate all of the work you’re putting into this.”

“Not a problem, glad to help out.”

Chad signed off and gazed at Amanda. The day in the sun had given her skin a golden tone, against her dark blonde hair pulled up with a clip, exposing a long and graceful neck. Accustomed to seeing her in pricey designer clothes, he found her far more alluring in simple cotton tops and shorts.

And why am I thinking about my boss this way?

His body still vibrated from the touch of Amanda’s shoulders against his skin. He hadn’t expected to offer more than friendship when he consoled her on the beach, but something in his heart had stirred and refused to settle down after his closeness with her.

He twirled the gold band on his left hand. For the first time, since he had put it on twenty years before, it felt tight.

* * *

Chad and Amanda
walked barefoot along the shore where he had comforted her the night before. The sun started to set behind the resort, radiating hues of red and pink across brushstrokes of delicate clouds. The Mexican starlings fluttered in the palm trees, their exotic mating calls filling the air above waters as brilliant as gemstones.

A setting too romantic for his comfort.

“I called Rodriguez to find out if the stuff we dropped off had been sent to the lab and I couldn’t get a straight answer out of him,” Amanda said. “And when I asked about the lead he had mentioned this morning, he said he didn’t have any new information. Lazy-assed, pathetic chunk of humanity. He kept blathering about the importance of paying the ransom. I told him I took your advice and wouldn’t proceed with any financial transactions. I’m not giving him any excuse to sit around, licking his balls.”

“Did he, by any chance between licks, mention whether he contacted the hotel to see if they had videotape of the delivery of the doll?”

“Of course not.”

“Then, that’s our next follow-up.”

The technicolor sky deepened the tan on Amanda’s shoulders and illuminated her hair into a halo of glistening strands. He wanted to grab a handful of her mane and smother his face in it, certain it smelled of the first warm day of spring.

“Tonight let’s order room service and review everything. I want to reread those emails between Marty and Dad.”

His heart pounded at the prospect of having her alone in his room, but he mentally slapped himself with an order to straighten up and fly right.

“And maybe roam the fifth floor?” Amanda said.

“Check out our eavesdroppers?” He looked up at the room in question. A man in a baseball cap turned away and exited the balcony. “Worth a try.”

Amanda stopped and touched Chad’s arm, sending a current of electricity through him. A furrow deepened between her eyebrows. “They killed the bartender, didn’t they?”

“Probably.”

“Which means they’re more than capable of killing Rebecca and Trent.”

“I’m guessing they wouldn’t think twice about murdering them even if the ransom is paid. Evidently they despise loose ends,” Chad said.

“Isn’t that a comforting thought.”

They wandered off the beach and passed by the pools.

Don jogged up to them. “There you are, we’ve been looking everywhere for you. Get changed and meet us in the lobby. We’re heading out for dinner.”

Chad sensed Amanda’s spine stiffen. She hadn’t encountered her father since the meltdown the previous evening.

“Are you going to yell at me all night about being an ungrateful bitch?”

Don pulled her in for a hug and kissed her forehead. “You’re my daughter, kiddo. I have to love you in spite of everything.” He released her and slapped her ass. “Meet us down here in fifteen. We’re dining at Captain’s Cove.”

Amanda froze. “No—I can’t. Not there.” The glow from her tan drained away, as if hosed off. “Go without me.”

“Mandy, does every action have to be drenched in drama? Can’t you just say, ‘Okay, Dad. I’ll be ready in five minutes’ for once?”

“Look, anywhere but there.”

“Miriam loves the place, and if that’ll help get some food into her, that’s where we’re going. All of us.”

“Dad, I can’t—”

“Mandy, this discussion is closed. Whatever problems you have with Captain’s Cove—for heaven’s sake it’s a restaurant, not a torture chamber.”

That’s what you think.

* * *

Amanda struggled to
breathe. With every kilometer the taxi ventured south of Plaza Kukulcan, her chest constricted. Her ribs refused to allow her lungs to expand for fresh air.

The vehicle stopped at the eye of the storm.

“Here we are, Captain’s Cove. Miriam and I come here to dine over the lagoon.” Her father looked at Amanda. “If we’re lucky, the crocodiles may come out to play.”

Piss off, old man.
Her stomach roiled; she’d never be able to keep anything down. “I’m not feeling well. You three go without me. I’ll head back to the hotel.”

“Nonsense.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the cab. “You inherited the Sloane cast-iron gut. You’ll be fine.”

The hostess led them through the restaurant’s spacious dining room, as quiet and relaxed as she remembered. The aroma of grilled fish permeated the air, a smell that normally triggered hunger pangs, but not tonight.

“Are you going to be okay?”

She looked into Cooper’s kind eyes. “To be honest, I don’t know. We’ll see what the night has in store.”

They chose a table on the deck for its picturesque panorama of the lagoon, but Amanda opted for the chair with the best view of the establishment. The rest of them could admire the sunset; she wanted to see what came at her. She ordered a shot of tequila with her Negra Modelo. Anything to get through the night.

“How was snorkeling? Mandy a good teacher? I can’t imagine she wasn’t; that girl almost swam before she could walk,” her father said.

“Well, um, I got cold feet. We went out on a boat, but we didn’t swim,” Cooper said.

“How long have you been down here son, five days?”

“Something like that.”

“And you haven’t been in the water? What’s wrong with you, man? ‘Fraid of sharks?”

“Dad, leave Cooper alone. You should be thanking him for helping us.”

“Yeah, that’s what I hear…I talked with Lieutenant Rodriguez and he said the two of you visited him again this morning. Without us.”

Here we go.
She braced for impact, but their waiter saved the day with a tray of drinks. Before he had served everyone, Amanda downed the tequila and guzzled a third of her Negra Modelo. She held up the bottle. “I’m going to need another one of these pretty soon.”

She felt vulnerable on the deck, unable to see the staff in the dining room or the kitchen and she had no place to run, unless she decided to try her chance with the crocodiles…which might give her the best odds.

They talked trivialities through dinner, sidestepping the financial elephant in the room, and whenever Amanda or Cooper brought up the topic of the kidnapping, her father shot them down, insisting the police handle the search.

Miriam also played by Don Sloane’s rules. A hint of color lessened her ghostly pallor—maybe an afternoon by the pool? Instead of ruing Rebecca’s disappearance, she shared stories about trips with Amanda’s father to Cancun over the years—snorkeling, fishing, touring Isla Mujeres and Cozumel. She mentioned they used to stay at a nearby hotel and frequented Captain’s Cove regularly. “Before we smartened up and invested in a timeshare. Amanda, you should get one.”

Cooper choked on his snapper.

As the evening unwound, Amanda relaxed.
If something were to happen, wouldn’t it have occurred by now?

After the waiter cleared their meal, he brought coffees and a couple slices of key lime pie for the table to share.

“When Miriam and I stopped at the police station today, Officer Rodriguez gave us his advice—which he mentioned he also gave to you.”

Finally, some discussion on why they were all in Cancun, but Amanda tensed, ready for the explosion.

“He encouraged me to continue with my plan because the local police force doesn’t have much experience in these types of matters.”

“Did he mention if he contacted the FBI?” Amanda asked.

“His captain said it could be done, but since the bureau has no jurisdiction in Mexico, it might worsen the situation. I asked that they keep the investigation low key—Mandy, we just need to pay the money and Rebecca and Trent will be back with us.”

“Donny told me about our finances. He spent the day trying to put together a deal to come up with the funds for the ransom.” She looked at Amanda. “We think this is the only way we’ll get our baby home.”

“Mandy, this sum of money will ruin me. I’ll have to sell the house, the business, the cars—even Miriam’s jewelry. We’ll have to liquidate our investments and our life insurance policies and it still won’t be close to enough.”

“I thought you were doing well, that you’d made a killing from the video stores,” Amanda said. “And didn’t Trent and Rebecca buy a brand-new house recently?”

“Most of the down payment came from my mother,” Miriam said. “She didn’t like that I married Donny so she left her money to Rebecca. The modest sum gave them the funds to buy a nicer home.”

“Rebecca picked up a job outside of the video business a few years ago to help tide them over,” Amanda’s father said. “Miriam knew the stores weren’t doing well, but she didn’t know our savings were in lousy shape. The downturn hit us hard and I made some stupid decisions. Instead of waiting it out, I blinked.”

“Yikes,” Cooper said.

“Dad, please. Don’t lay this responsibility on my shoulders, expecting me to hand over my life savings for some freaky kidnapping scam that may or may not work. Instead of insisting that the police work the case, you want me to sacrifice everything I’ve earned to fix the problem—and what if we still don’t rescue her? What if she never surfaces again? If you loved me, you wouldn’t ask this of me. Please, pressure the authorities and allow Cooper and me to continue searching.”

“I’m a failed old man, but I see before me a daughter—whom I love—with the wherewithal to help another daughter I love.”

Amanda felt as if she were on trial, defending herself against the foolishness of others. She would gather the funds, but she couldn’t tell him. Her father might back completely off the case, jeopardizing the lives of Rebecca and Trent. “Dad, forgive me, I can’t.”

His face turned fire truck red. “If you went missing and Rebecca could help, I’d ask the same of her.”

“That’s easy to say, but—”

The hostess appeared with a single glass of white wine for Amanda. “This is for you, by special request.”

Her chest tightened again and she scanned the deck. He wasn’t there. “May I ask who ordered this for me?”

The hostess shrugged. “I don’t know.”

A group of diners hurried to the railing a few feet away from the Sloanes’ table and pointed at the water, oohing and aahing. “I think the crocodile has arrived,” her father said.

If you only knew.
She stared at the wineglass and reflected on all of the conversations that took place over many similar glasses. She could still remember the thrill of his fingers exploring her skin.

What the hell.
She raised the glass to her lips and let the cool, astringent liquid pass over her tongue and down her throat.
It’s from Alsace. He never forgot.
Similar to other alcohol, it passed through her body, relaxing and warming her, but the Pinot penetrated deeper, reaching her soul and warming it for the first time in thirty years.

Cooper leaned over. “Are you all right?”

She slapped his knee. “Never better.”

Amanda locked eyes with a diner near the other end of the deck, a fellow who looked somewhat familiar, but he disappeared from view, blocked by a body walking toward her with a gait she immediately recognized. More laugh lines and some gray around the temples, but it was definitely him.

“Buenas noches, Señorita Amanda. It’s been a long time.”

“Hola, Miguel.”