Tourist Trapped (29 page)

THIRTY-FIVE

Thursday December 17, Mid-afternoon

Blessed peace. Amen.
The moment Miriam embraced Rebecca, Amanda’s brain shifted into idle. No more hunting for clues, analyzing or strategizing. Ordinary life resumed, as if the universe had been holding its breath and finally exhaled.

She drove down Highway 307 with her precious “cargo.” The wild terrain flew by, a blur of green, as they headed back to “Fiasco Royale” and their old lives. Miriam relaxed on the passenger side and Rebecca slept across the back seat. Both of Don Sloane’s daughters sported stitches and toted bottles of painkillers and antibiotics, courtesy of a charming physician at Clínica San Miguel.

After showering in Amanda’s room at Casa del Mar, they had debriefed with the police and Navy. The authorities advised the women to return to Cancun and stay at Fiesta Oasis Royale until they heard from Officer Vargas. The police would apprehend Rodriguez immediately and interrogate him about the rest of the kidnappers. A team had been dispatched to clear out the room at the end of the fifth floor of the resort. Once they made the arrests, Captain Garza said Rebecca would remain safe as long as she kept to the confines of the hotel grounds. On the way out of the police station, Amanda handed Lucia’s gun to Yesenia, relieved to no longer need it.

Miriam had transformed into another woman, her once bloodshot, teary eyes now clear and bright, the mask of suffering cast off.

Amanda’s leg ached from the bullet wound, her skin burned from her catfights with the jungle, and exhaustion tempted her to nod off at the steering wheel, but they had rescued Rebecca. It seemed surreal—all of it: from her father’s first call to the reunion of mother and daughter.

Her poor sister would have to mourn the loss of her husband, although Amanda suspected the girl would be better off in the long run—not that someone should have murdered Trent. No one deserved to die for the sin of unexpurgated stupidity.

Miriam sighed and smiled. She checked her watch. “We should be back at the hotel by, maybe, five o’clock? That’ll give Becky time to settle in before I set her down in the dining room and feed her. She’s lost so much weight.”

“I think you both should work on adding a little flesh to your bones. The two of you could fit in those capris.” Unfortunately Amanda had the opposite problem.

“Now that Becky’s safe, I’ll be fine.”

It was hard to believe it was over, that tomorrow they could be back in the States. Amanda yearned for blustery Chicago, but her heart couldn’t commit to complete exhilaration: Cooper.

Miriam asked, as if on cue, “Have you heard from Chad? I’ve tried to reach him a few times, but I keep getting voice mail.”

“I’m sure he’s pretty busy in Portland.” What would she do about him? His cruel words had injured her far worse than any bullet or jungle bush. Cooper had shot arrows into tender spots. Her dad had wounded her time and time again, but Amanda allowed few others close enough to detect the chinks in her armor. Her surrogate family, the friends who knew her far more intimately than any lover—Lauren, Dylan, Terry and even Zach—guarded her vulnerabilities instead of exploiting them.

But she missed Cooper. Throughout the day, she had felt so alone without him next to her. She’d come to rely on his quiet, steady determination and thoroughly enjoyed their conversations over Margaritas and guac. The dorky DBA with the fashion sense of a Jerry Lewis character had winnowed his way into her heart. Like a barbed fishhook.

“You should call him and tell him the good news. He’ll be thrilled to hear that Becky’s safe.”

“Maybe later tonight.” Amanda had no idea what to say to Cooper after their awkward goodbye. Besides, shouldn’t he be the one extending the olive branch? Or had he not called because he was so disappointed in her? His voice had dripped with disdain when he confronted her about sleeping with a married Miguel. She permitted him a glimpse into her past and the monster who tried to steal another woman’s husband repulsed Cooper.

Still, his silence confused her. No matter his level of exasperation with Amanda, he wouldn’t inflict suffering on Rebecca. Not returning her calls didn’t fit Cooper’s M.O.

“I wonder how things are going in Portland. Hopefully he’ll be back in Chicago with his kids by the time you return,” Miriam said.

“I bet they’ve missed him while he’s been away.”

“Oh, that’s right—I mean you’re right. Too bad we won’t be there to see it.”

“Miriam, he hasn’t been gone that long, it’s not as if he won’t recognize his kids.”

“My guess is, for Chad, it’ll feel like years.”

* * *

“No way, Vince,
I’m not getting Amanda involved,” Chad said. “She’s up to her eyeballs with the search for her sister and brother-in-law in Cancun and I refuse to ask her to drop everything and haul ass to be here for tomorrow’s rescue.”

Vince and Chad sat on the end of the beds while Sally cleared used food wrappers and cups from various surfaces. She tripped over her boss’ feet as she crossed the room to toss out an armful of trash.

“Careful, Sal, we need you in one piece,” Fozzy said, grabbing his mug and making his way to the coffee maker next to the sink.

“I bet she’d be perfect—I know lawyers. She dresses to the nines and never a hair out of place, right?” Vince said. “We pair her up with an adorable little mutt and if we’re lucky enough to have the kids pass by, or look out the window, I bet we lure one of ‘em in. Once we got one of them, we’re home free.”

Chad cringed at the thought of Amanda showing up in Portland. After his cutting remarks about how she screwed up her life, wouldn’t it be ironic for her to witness, firsthand, how he messed up his?

He wondered how she and Miriam were faring on Cozumel. Had they discovered any leads? He was acutely aware that the deadline for the ransom was a few hours away. He prayed for their safety.

“This is the craziest idea yet,” Chad said.

“Look, we keep losin’ them. They squeeze by us every time. I think we gotta have a distraction that’ll slow ‘em down. Kate agrees that it’s a good idea. She’s the one who suggested this Sloane chick.”

“You talked to Kate first?”

“Yeah, well, you were in ‘limbo land.’”

“I don’t think you understand. Amanda’s literally tangling with the goons who kidnapped her sister and brother-in-law. You know, the guys who shot me?” Chad raised the bandaged bicep. “It’s not like Danny and the kids. We think the thugs who abducted Amanda’s family members murdered a bartender—and they’re demanding a million-dollar ransom.”

Vince whistled. “Cha-ching. Okay, we’ll tank the idea of your attorney friend, but I still think we need a civilian who can help draw in the kids.”

Chad had vowed he’d do whatever it took to get his kids home…within reason. “Fine, we can go with a distraction, as long as it isn’t Amanda Sloane.”

Kate walked in, wearing a curly wig and wire-rimmed glasses. “What about Amanda Sloane?” She slid an enormous backpack off of her shoulder and onto the desk. “Peter and I took care of the food run.” She pulled bags from Kenny & Zuke’s from the pack. “A little of everything. Enjoy.”

Peter plopped a knapsack on the edge of the desk. “Drinks are in here.” He pulled off a skull cap and sunglasses, and grabbed a can of root beer from the bag.

“Have you talked to Amanda?” Kate opened the paper sacks and pulled out plastic cartons.

“Love their pastrami,” Fozzy said, as he plowed through the bodies and grabbed half of a sandwich, the meat piled inches high.

“Well?” Kate said.

“Nope.” Chad picked up the other half of the pastrami sandwich and sunk his teeth into the corner, ripping off a mouthful.

Kate yanked the sandwich out of Chad’s hands. “Why not?”

He chewed and swallowed. “I don’t want to bother her.”

“What did you do?”

“Huh?”

“You drop everything and fly to Cancun with Amanda and spend a couple of weeks helping her search for her family, and now you don’t bother calling to see how the rescue is going? Chad, you did something.”

He grabbed the sandwich out of Kate’s hand. “Let me eat in peace.”

* * *

While Amanda focused
on the road, Miriam kept looking over her shoulder to watch her daughter sleep. “I can’t believe it’s over, that she’s finally with us.”

“It all feels like a miserable dream, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, but it’s not over for Donny. I wish Becky would have called him. He must be worried sick—especially so close to the deadline. He has to be frantic.”

“Why didn’t you take pity on him and call?”

“I’m so mad at him for pulling a Donner in Chicago that I turned off my cell phone. I figured we needed to teach him a lesson.”

“Pulling a Donner?”

“That’s what I call it when he screws up.”

Amanda burst out laughing. “I’ll have to remember that one.” She didn’t know if her father had been part of the reason for the caper. With her brother-in-law rotting in the jungle or on the seabed, it seemed logical that Trent somehow instigated the series of events. Whatever it had been, he definitely tangled with the wrong crowd. She recalled the bartender’s warning. Had he cautioned Trent, too?

They pulled up to the hotel. The setting sun bathed the resort in a rosy glow. Amanda never thought she’d be so happy to see “Fiasco Royale.” She stopped at the entrance and Miriam woke Rebecca and helped her out of the car. “I’ll get the bags,” Amanda said. “You two go in.”

She parked the car and noticed a cell phone wedged between the gearshift and the seat.
Miriam must have dropped it.
She threw it into her tote.

Amanda grabbed the knapsack and another tote bag out of the trunk, slung the straps over her shoulder and headed toward the hotel. As she neared the building, she spotted her father pacing along a line of bushes, gesturing with his free hand. His strained expression and almost purple coloring reminded Amanda of someone on the verge of a stroke. He sprinted to the street and hailed a cab.

Where is he going?

* * *

Amanda was too
far from the car to jump in and tail her dad. She surprised a relaxing taxi driver, hopping into the front passenger seat and dropping her bags on the floor mat. “Follow that cab, por favor.” She never imagined that cheesy line would come out of her mouth.

“Sí.” He pulled onto Kukulcan, heading north.

The line of gargantuan resorts gave way to expanses with villas and boutique hotels interspersed with patches of jungle.

What was her dad up to? He looked too upset to have run into Miriam and Rebecca in the hotel lobby; they must have missed each other. He probably believed his youngest daughter still suffered in the hands of the kidnappers. Amanda tried to call him, but kept getting sent to voice mail.

They passed the first gas station on the boulevard on the north end; they were nearing downtown. The beautiful landscaping and impressive structures disintegrated into dust and a mix of worn buildings and abandoned hovels.

They turned onto Tulum Avenue and passed the flea market where Amanda had purchased the bottle of sand for Cooper.

They neared the bus station. Did her father miraculously amass the money for the ransom? Was he going to drop it off? A streak of pity passed through her. She should have phoned him as soon as they rescued Rebecca. Keeping the truth from him was cruel, no matter how angry he made Amanda.

The cab ahead of them passed by the depot and continued through town. They made their way toward the western edge of the city on Highway 180, driving by every type of business imaginable, from grocery stores to tire centers, pharmacies to McDonald’s restaurants.

Real life existed in this area of Cancun. Street vendors were closing down their food carts for the day. Taxis lined up at Mega and Chedraui grocery stores, ready for local residents to pack them to the windshields for their rides home.

The businesses grew smaller and traffic thinned. More abandoned buildings and rickety structures populated the roadside, along with the reemergence of parcels of jungle.

The trek mystified Amanda. Why was her father motoring through the city? If Cooper were with her, he’d offer up some theory. His comments haunted her: “Why are you taking a stroll down memory lane when we should focus on the fact you’ve pissed off your family so much they’re shaking you down for a mil?” Had Cooper been right, was her father part of the deception?

On the outskirts of Cancun, civilization bowed to the mighty jungle. Buildings stood on small lots amongst tracts of dense flora.

Could it be that her dad was upset that Amanda rescued Rebecca? Was he involved with the kidnapping and became angry when he discovered that it had failed? Her heart cracked. He couldn’t have sunk that low, could he? And yet, why else would he be riding through the streets of Cancun instead of celebrating Rebecca’s return?

They passed a long fence with an arch in the center with the words “San Ramon.” It looked to be some sort of academy. Even behind the fence the trees were thick, the jungle intruding.

Finally the taxi stopped at a large, brick-red complex next to an abandoned car lot.

“Keep going,” Amanda said.

The driver continued down the road and Amanda watched her dad walk through a gate and meld into dusk’s darkness.

She spotted a sign for a motel. “Turn in here.”

The driver drove into the parking lot and Amanda paid the fare, grabbed her bags and hopped out.

“Tenga cuidado, señora.”

Be careful? Why start now?

THIRTY-SIX

Thursday December 17, Early Evening

Amanda left the
dusty, crumbling parking lot of Motel Jardín and ventured down the road, hoping the curtain of darkness falling over Cancun would hide her. She passed a feeble excuse for a grocery store, next to an even more pathetic food stand.

What would she find? She prayed harder than she had ever done in her life that her dad wasn’t mixed up with the mess. No matter how much anger she felt toward him over her mom, over the money, she didn’t think she’d be able to live with the hurt of such a heartless act.

Amanda walked past a fence that held behind it a fleet of construction vehicles, then another food stand. She saw her dad’s taxi parked at the front gate. She hung her bags over her shoulder and hoisted herself over the black metal bars of the fence. Its resemblance to the bars of a jail cell may be appropriate with what she might find on the other side.

A chill ran down Amanda’s spine. What if the kidnappers were trying to lure her dad? Since they lost Rebecca and murdered Trent, could they be trying to nab her father to replace their hostages? Were they still at large—was Rodriguez behind it? Her father would have bought into a call from a police officer. She kicked herself for not telling her dad about the lieutenant’s role in the mess.

She surveyed the complex. It looked like a mishmash of storage containers and collectible cars. She couldn’t get a handle on the establishment’s purpose. A series of buildings sat on the parcel, some were open warehouses, others were walled-in buildings. She noticed one labeled as the office, but it was dark.

Miriam’s phone vibrated and Amanda almost jumped out of her skin. Could it be her dad trying to call his wife? Or maybe Rodriguez telling Miriam they have her husband? Amanda answered it, whispering a hello.

“This is Kate Dalton. Am I, by any chance, speaking to Amanda Sloane?”

“This is Amanda.” She tried to talk softly. How would anyone know she had Miriam’s phone? Was this another part of some scam?

“Ms. Sloane, I hate to bother you, but do you have a minute?”

Do I have a minute? Maybe my last one.
“I’m a bit tied up at the moment.”

“Can I try you again later? I’m checking in to see how the search is going. I’m assisting Chad Cooper—he’s swamped with logistics here in Portland, but he’s concerned about you and your family.”

“How did you know I had Miriam’s phone?”

“I don’t know a Miriam. I’m calling Chad’s number.”

It was stupid, but after she hung up, Amanda felt better, knowing she had a little bit of Cooper with her.

A fellow strolled out the front gate and talked to the cab driver. The taxi drove off and the man pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Amanda couldn’t make out his face.

She hugged the wall of the front building.
Damn. No gun, no Taser, and no Cooper.

* * *

Amanda made her
way around the building and then the next. A couple of antique cars sat in an open area of the complex, but they appeared empty. Amanda slunk through the shadows, just in case.

She heard voices, her father and someone else. The fear in her dad’s voice chilled her to the core. Light leaked through the cracks of a large shed and she peeked through one of the openings. Her father stood in the center of the rickety building with his hands raised, but she couldn’t see anyone else. The old cars lining the wall limited her view.

The ancient shed looked ready to topple in a breeze. She searched for a back entrance. Metal edges curled up on a corner, giving her a sizable hole to squeeze through.

She crouched behind a vintage roadster and peered over the hood. A man stood about fifteen feet away from her dad, a gun dangling from his right hand. A battery lantern illuminated her father’s face, the stress darkening the hollows of his cheeks.

“You screwed up, you old geezer. By now your precious Rebecca is dead and, after I take care of you and your mousy wife, I’ll finish off that other bitch-of-a-daughter of yours. All you had to do was cough up a million dollars, and none of this would be happening.” The man started to pace.

Trent—that slimy S-O-B survived!

Amanda had to neutralize him. She scanned the floor. Nothing in sight that could be thrown.

“Trent, son, there has to be a better way—I’ll find the money,” her dad said. “I’ll talk to Amanda again, I’ll get the cash from her. Just don’t hurt Rebecca.”

“I told you, old man, she’s already dead. When that pain-in-the-ass Amanda got too nosy, they had to break camp and couldn’t take your daughter with them. Too risky. You can thank Amanda for Rebecca’s demise.”

Think, Amanda, think
. She still carried the bags. Did any of them hold something she could leverage as a weapon?

“Kill me, but don’t harm Miriam or Amanda—especially Amanda. She’s only tried to help. She and Chad gave their all to save Rebecca—and you.”

“That bastard. If he hadn’t hauled ass out of here, he’d have a slug from my gun in him right now—and I’d make sure it counted. If it weren’t for him, Amanda would have handed you the cash in a heartbeat. That asshole kept her from forking over the funds.”

Like a blind person unsure of the terrain, Amanda ran her fingers over the items in her tote bag.

“How do you know about Chad?”

“Rodriguez—you are thick, old man! You haven’t figured out that he helped, keeping an eye on what all you idiots were doing?”

Billfold, lipstick, checkbook, nothing with heft.

“How long have you been planning this?”

“A friend suggested it a few weeks ago as a way out of the financial mess you put us in with those fucking ancient video stores.”

“Trent, we would have helped, you didn’t have to do this,” her father said.

Cell phone, tissue, sunglasses.

“Don’t you get it? I want out of this godforsaken situation. I never planned to go back. Either you coughed up the ransom and I disappeared as a kidnapping victim and you got Rebecca, or she died in a kidnapping incident and I got her life insurance. You failed and she’s dead.”

“You’ll have her life insurance money, why do you need to kill anyone else?”

“You know what happened, old man, you need to go.”

“Okay, kill me, but why Miriam and Mandy?”

Eye drops, hand wipes, pen.

“Your daughter’s loaded and such a bitch nobody’ll marry her. No husband, no heirs. I figure I can arrange an accident for her and your old lady and then I’ll be the one family member left. I won’t have to work another day in my life.”

“You won’t get away with it—don’t you think they’ll figure this out? Once the FBI gets involved—”

“Enough talking old man. It’s time to die.”

Amanda’s fingers passed over something cold and hard—and heavy. The jumbo jar of vanilla extract.

Trent raised the barrel of the gun and aimed it at her father. “Any last words?”

She had one chance to hit him. She pulled out the bottle and threw it as hard as she could. It arced through the air and caught the back of Trent’s head. He jerked his arm and the gun discharged as he fell to the ground. The jar of vanilla shattered on the concrete. Amanda dropped the bags and charged at Trent, kicking the hand that held the gun. Dazed, he released the weapon and it flew across the floor.

Amanda grabbed it and pointed it at Trent. “You sick sonofabitch. You and Rodriguez planned this? I should shoot you here and now.”

“You’ll have to kill me first!” her father yelled.

Amanda turned to see her dad charge Rodriguez, the aim of the officer’s gun moving from her to her dad. The lieutenant shot and her father collapsed like a ripped parachute.

She remembered her training and aimed at the bastard. It was Rodriguez or her. She shot once. Twice. He dropped the gun and fell to the ground, motionless.

Arms encircled Amanda, along with the stink of sweat and cheap cologne.

“This isn’t over, you bitch.”

“Trent.” She stomped on his instep. “You need to expand your vocabulary.” Her elbow jabbed into his solar plexus. “Bitch is so over used.” Her fist connected with his nose and he crumpled. She turned around and shot him in the thigh. “Payback, pendejo. And by the way, I’m engaged.”

She grabbed Rodriguez’s gun and checked on her father. Thick, dark blood streamed down the side of his chest. She ran back to her bags, pulled out her cell phone and called Lucia.

“I need three ambulances. My father, Trent Adams and Rodriguez have been shot.”

“Where are you?”

“We came out on Highway 180. I’m in a complex painted bright red, between something that resembles a school named San Ramon, and a flea-bitten motel called Jardín.”

“We’re on our way.”

Amanda ran over to her father, pulled off her tank top and pressed it to his side to stem the blood flow. Perspiration beaded on his forehead and cheeks, and the color had drained from his face.

“Mandy, how did you find me?” He swallowed, sounding as if he hadn’t consumed water for a week.

“I tailed your cab.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No, Dad, I’m fine. Don’t talk.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay—and I’m sorry that I tried to take your money. I’m a stupid old man.” He started sobbing.

“Dad, you’ll be all right, hang in there.”

“How do I break the news to Miriam?”

“I told her about the money. She’ll forgive you.”

“No. Rebecca.”

“She’s back at the hotel with Miriam.”

“You’re lying, you b—witch.” Trent sat up.

Amanda pointed the gun at him. “Don’t even think of moving or I’ll shoot you where it counts. As for Rebecca, your compadres missed her. Somehow they gunned down pretty much everyone else, but Rebecca had the smarts to survive. No insurance payment for you, tonto del culo.”

“Thank God—how did you find her?” Her dad coughed and then grimaced from the pain.

“It’s a long story. Miriam and I can tell it to you later.”

“Miriam went with you?”

Amanda nodded. “Your wife is a tough little cookie.” She glared at Trent. “She witnessed the horrible, dank hut where you held Rebecca hostage. Dark and barely enough room to turn around. Rebecca went through hell.”

“Was she harmed?” Her father started to wheeze.

“Running through the jungle roughed her up, but the kidnappers failed to hurt her.”

“Then both of my girls are safe.”

“Dad…thanks.”

“For what?”

“You saved my life.”

“That’s what fathers do, kiddo. We’ll move heaven and earth if we have to.” He coughed again and spatters of blood spewed with each expulsion of air.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry for being mad at you all of these years, and for not telling you that I had planned to pay the ransom if necessary.” Her eyes burned with tears that begged to flow. “It’ll be different, Dad, I promise.”

“Mandy, I love you, never forget it.” He closed his eyes and his breathing turned shallow.

She shook him. “Dad, don’t you dare die on me—wake up! Stay with me, dammit. There’s no way in Hades I’m going back to that hotel and telling Miriam and Rebecca you’re dead. You stay with me or I’ll tail you to heaven and make it hell.”

A faint smile crossed his lips, but his eyes remained shut. She checked his pulse: weak, but detectable.

Sirens surrounded the complex. Amanda phoned Vargas. “We’re in a building at the back of the grounds. Hurry, my dad’s losing a lot of blood.”

Vargas and a team of police entered the room. Paramedics surrounded Amanda’s father and started IVs. They replaced her blood-sodden shirt with thick gauze and whisked him to the hospital. Lucia asked Amanda to stay behind to answer questions.

Another paramedic treated Trent while an officer hovered nearby. Eventually they, too, left for the hospital. Police snapped pictures of Rodriguez before sending him to the morgue. Amanda felt for the teenage son who delivered the “Day of the Dead” doll, now fatherless. Thanks to her.

Amanda notified Miriam of the shooting and provided her with the address of the hospital. Once again, poor Miriam had to fret over a loved one.

Vargas recorded Amanda’s statement while the police department gathered evidence. Amanda couldn’t stop shaking. She’d have to live with the fact she ended a man’s life. Self-defense or not, she pulled the trigger and now a man no longer existed.

Lucia reported that the boat captain had been tracked down, found hiding in his own house. Rodriguez had paid him to loan them the boat and to disappear. The police had also stormed the end room of the fifth floor of the resort and nabbed the man they suspected tailed Chad and Amanda. Another police officer.

“Need a lift?” Officer Vargas said after Amanda signed the paperwork.

Amanda nodded, looking down at her blood-stained sport top and shorts. “I need a lot more than that, but it’s a good start.”

* * *

Amanda stood at
the water’s edge, her father’s blood still clinging to her body, like he clung to life. Miriam had called. Her dad was in surgery; the bullet had broken a rib and punctured his lung.

She needed to wash up and go to the hospital, but her feet had taken her across the lobby, past the stares of tourists and staff, through the pool area, and down to the beach.

The tide rolled in, beating against the shore, and once its energy spent, retreated to regain strength.

The rhythmic sound couldn’t soften this ache. She yearned for the thunderous clashes of water against land farther south. Amanda wanted to splash in and let the waves have their way, swirling and tumbling her body until her lungs felt about to burst.

She waded in to her waist and dove beneath the surface, the salt stinging her eyes and nose, and biting at her stitches. She swam along the sandy bottom, as far as she could go on a single breath. Then she floated to the top and tasted the sweetness of fresh air.

The tears started to flow, for the years she tortured her father with hate, and for Rebecca’s denied birthright. Her dad had to survive; they needed the chance to be a family.

Finally she swam toward shore and noticed a figure watching her. Cooper? Her heart skipped a beat and she swam faster, but as she neared the beach, she recognized Miguel. He held out a towel and when she made it to dry sand, he wrapped her in it and kissed her.