Tourist Trapped (17 page)

“Am I pathetic and empty?”

“Not even close.”

* * *

“Join me for
a beer, Cooper?” Amanda said as they walked to their rooms. “Just one?” She didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts so soon.

“You know, a cold one sounds damned good right now.”

Amanda felt out of sync—as if observing the world from a fish tank. Separated. Shunned.

They grabbed a couple of Negra Modelos and sat on the balcony. A knock on the door interrupted her first sip.

“Great, it’s probably Dad, ready for round two.”

She started to rise but Cooper rested his hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down. “Your dad’s done enough harm for one night. I’ll take care of him.”

He crossed the room and opened the door. She let a swig of beer run over her tongue and down her throat. The taste of malt and hops filled her mouth before the cool liquid settled in her stomach. At least part of her felt something.

“Amanda, it’s not your dad. It’s a package.”

She padded across the cool tile floor. A bellhop stood in the doorway, a small box in his hand.

“Señora Sloane, this is for you.” He held out the container, labeled with her name and room number. No return address.

“Wait a minute. Don’t touch it.” Cooper fetched tissues from the bathroom and used them to set down the box. He tipped the bellhop and closed the door.

“This can’t be the item from your friend.”

“Somebody must have left it at the front desk,” Cooper said.

Amanda eyed up the box, dreading its contents. “There better not be a body part in it.”

Cooper pulled out a jackknife and slit the tape. He opened the top with fingers shielded in the tissue.

The box contained an envelope and a six-inch high Catrina, a popular “Day of the Dead” figurine. Amanda pulled a note out of the envelope, using a pair of tweezers. The note read,
Dig too deep and you’ll find yourself buried.

* * *

Chad didn’t care
about the time; when he returned to his room after midnight, he dialed Vince.

“Hey, sorry Chad. I haven’t called because I don’t have anything to report. I tracked a few leads, but they dried up before I could get any legs underneath them.”

“Can I help in some way? Should I contact Danny’s parents again, see if she’s been in touch?” Chad leaned against the balcony railing while Donna Summer sang about some hot stuff in his room. He’d downloaded a dozen disco hits and played them over and over, figuring if anyone decided to listen in, he’d inflict a little torture of his own.

“They claim she hasn’t reached out to them in five years. I don’t think you’ll hear anything different now,” Vince said.

“Danielle and the kids are moving more quickly, aren’t they? They’re becoming more agile.”

“The longer they’re on the road, the better they’re getting at dodging me. Do you think it’s time to change agencies? Hire somebody they don’t recognize?”

“Not on your life. We’ve come too far together—I’m not about to switch investigators now.” His mind spun through the conversations they’d held over the years and sparks of emotions flitted through him with each memory: anticipation, excitement, utter defeat. Five years on a roller-coaster of hope and despair, never an opportunity to jump off and catch his breath.

“Your wife—you sure she’s still suffering from a breakdown? The way she gets around tells me she’s in a stronger mental place. Else how could she keep ahead of us this way?”

Chad sighed. “I’d love to find out that she’s psychologically healthy, but then why hasn’t she returned home with the kids?”

“Good point. How’s Cancun?”

“Strange. Very, very strange.”

“Did the bug detector show up?”

“We received a package tonight, but unfortunately not that.”

“Anything we can help with?” Vince said.

“As a matter-of-fact, I could use your team to hunt down something for me.”

TWENTY

Monday December 14, Morning

“Do you think
this is the right thing, leaving the evidence with the lieutenant?” Amanda asked.

The aroma of bleach wafted through the deserted police station at six in the morning. Amanda and Cooper fidgeted while they sat by Rodriguez’s desk, awaiting his arrival. Although nothing moved on the case, the lieutenant insisted on handling every discussion.

“I don’t think we have a choice. My contacts are too far away. We don’t have time to ship it to them for processing,” Cooper said.

“Should we mention that we’re being followed?”

“Probably not. We don’t have definitive proof, and the lieutenant might use it as another reason to pay the ransom.”

Amanda reviewed her notes—not in search of any great new revelations, but to avoid talking to Cooper. Although she knew the death doll and threatening note should occupy her concerns, she couldn’t free her mind from the interaction with Cooper on the beach. She didn’t know what to say after exposing her soft side to him. Nobody sees Amanda Sloane’s underbelly. Nobody.

“We should have picked up coffee on the way. The stuff here eats out the stomach lining,” he said. “The one American business I can appreciate in Cancun is Starbucks.”

Amanda nodded. She felt embarrassed, having bared her vulnerabilities to Cooper. And yet she knew she could trust him. Somehow, in a matter of days, he had transcended into her tiny inner circle, one of a handful of men allowed full access to the woman behind the curtain. Ironically, Amanda never extended this level of intimacy to lovers—or fiancés. They weren’t allowed to get too close. They always disappointed.

Cooper usurped her friend Dylan’s place as “Male Confidant Number One.” Even after decades of friendship, Amanda couldn’t imagine asking Dylan if she was “pathetic and empty.” Not in a million years.

“Did you get much sleep?” Cooper asked.

“A couple of hours, I think.” She checked her watch; forty-five minutes before their boat’s scheduled departure. On the bright side, since she and Cooper were the only passengers, the charter would wait.

“Buenos días,” Rodriguez said as he sat down. “What do we have today?”

Cooper plopped a plastic grocery bag on the desk. “Somebody delivered this to the hotel last night, for Ms. Sloane.”

The officer peered into the sack. “La Catrina. Sent to you, señora?”

“And a note that implied that if we keep snooping around, someone’s going to get hurt,” Cooper said.

“They’re delivering threats? Please, go back to Fiesta Oasis Royale and let us do our jobs. Help Señor Sloane gather the ransom and then spend the next few days relaxing by the pool. Captain Nunez and I are optimistic we can find the kidnappers before Thursday night.”

A flutter of hope lifted through Amanda’s chest. “You’ve found something?”

“One of my detectives informed me of a potential lead last night, but nothing firm enough to discuss with you at this point,” Rodriguez said. “In the meantime, I’ll send out La Catrina and the note for processing.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Amanda said.

The right side of the officer’s mouth curled up. “Now, will the two of you promise to stay out of trouble?”

“We won’t get in your way,” Cooper said, “but we don’t plan on sucking down Margaritas on the beach all afternoon.”

“I’ve asked around, señor, and most of the precincts that reported kidnappings in the last six months said the hostages were returned when the ransom was paid. I’m certain that either we will find the kidnappers, or they will deliver the Adams couple once they receive the money. Please, stay at the resort. I want you to keep safe.”

“Thank you for the advice, we’ll take it under consideration,” Cooper said. “You can recommend that we pay off the kidnappers, but I still believe it’s a big mistake, and I think Señora Sloane feels the same way. So…please ship this to the lab as quickly as possible and keep us informed of any progress.”

“Señora, you agree?”

“I think Cooper’s right.”

“I hope you’re making the right decision. I don’t want our men to discover your bodies in an abandoned lot somewhere.”

Cooper stood. “Neither do we.”

* * *

“Do you think
the kidnappers ‘arranged’ the availability of this boat?” Amanda said as she followed Cooper into the thatched-roof Club Lagoon, empty at seven in the morning. In a couple of hours the place would teem with tourists brandishing registration slips for jungle tours and snorkeling trips, but now the large room echoed. They wandered through the facility and out to the docks.

“Don’t know. Want to cancel?”

Cooper and Amanda could end up in the same situation as Rebecca and Trent, but they had to take the chance. They needed to find the Ocean Fox. “No, let’s go.”

They found two men prepping a small yacht. “Is this the Sea Ray charter for the Sloane-Cooper party?” Cooper asked.

The older man nodded. “We’ll be ready to set sail in a few minutes. We’re behind because of the late booking.”

“Sorry about the urgency,” Cooper said.

They sat on the pier and Cooper played with his phone. Amanda watched a brown pelican search for breakfast. Broad wings lifted it into the sky, giving him an aerial view of the prey. The bird spotted a hapless fish and dove, hurtling through the air like a rocket, pulling his wings back right before he hit the water and disappeared. Popping up like a bobber with the fish in his bill, the pelican tilted his head to let the wriggling meal slip down his gullet.

Cooper yawned.

“Sleepless night for you too?” Amanda said.

“Had a lot on my mind.”

Amanda’s phone rang. Matt. She had avoided him as much as possible, keeping every conversation short and trivial—stuff like the pretty water, the nice weather, the pretty water…

“Hi Matt. We’re sitting down for breakfast at the beachside restaurant. They have a fantastic buffet—”

“Amanda, sorry, I don’t have a lot of time. I’m swamped with campaign events today. Have you thought about what we discussed before you left?”

“Whether I’ll eat veal?”

“Not in the mood, Babe. When you come back, will you cut your caseload?”

No luck in sidestepping the conversation this time.
She walked up the pier to venture out of earshot from Cooper. “I—I haven’t thought about it. You said I should come down here and relax—I didn’t know you expected me to make life changing decisions over saltwater and tequila.”

“Look, it’s time to make a commitment. The day you return, I want you next to me on the campaign trail—to hell with your job. I’ll take care of you.”

Threats against her life, family members missing, expectations of surrendering her financial security, and now her so-called fiancé wanted to twist her future into something vapid and useless.

“Matt, I’m not willing to hand over my life to you.”

“That’s not what I’m asking. I want you to be my partner on this journey. We’ll march to Washington together.”

Why were they having this discussion over a phone line that crossed two countries? It wasn’t the place or the time. “Look, we’ll talk when I return to Chicago.”

“No, Amanda, we need to straighten this out now.”

“What? Lauren said the bus is here for our trip to Tulum. Sorry, gotta go.” She hung up and turned off the phone. Jaz knew to call her on one of the disposables. Amanda pulled out a pad of paper and feigned making notes to give herself a few minutes to calm down without raising Cooper’s suspicions. She blocked thoughts of Matt; death dolls and missing yachts took precedence. Once her breathing and heartbeat normalized, she rejoined Cooper on the dock.

He sent off a number of long texts. “Amanda, my contacts said it might be a little expensive, but if you authorize it, they’ll dig into who left the ransom voice mail for your dad and who made the threatening phone call to you on Saturday.”

“Since I’m guessing it’ll be cheaper than a million bucks, go for it.”

Amanda’s stomach churned. A single call would start the process of liquidating her assets to gather the small fortune needed to free Rebecca. It’d take a chunk out of her finances, but it wouldn’t put her under. “Cooper, would you hate me if I called my accountant?”

“Of course not. You have to live with the decisions you make, and Rebecca and Trent may not survive. Although, I’d hate to see you lose both your sister and a million dollars. I think it’s a lot of money, even for you.”

On the other side of the pier, two adolescent girls raced along the shore of Sunset Lagoon, dressed in matching outfits. Sisters. They ran and laughed, not a care in the world. If the teenage Amanda had known about her baby sister, would there have been tender moments between the Sloane girls? Or would her father’s betrayal have tainted the relationship between the siblings even then?

And how about now?

“I need to do this.” Amanda called Rich, interrupting his breakfast. “I have an odd, but urgent request. Can you liquidate a million dollars in assets for me? I may need it to pay a ransom. On Thursday.”

“A million? For a ransom?”

“Yes. My sister’s been abducted. In Mexico.”

“Of course, I’ll get right on it—and Amanda, please be careful.”

“I’ll be in touch,” she said before signing off.

The boat engine groaned to life and Cooper started to rise. Amanda grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. “Let’s keep this between the two of us. I don’t want Dad or Miriam to know until we have a better handle on the situation.”

“Agreed.”

The yacht ready for boarding, a young man offered Amanda his hand. She gave him her bags and hopped onto the swim platform. The fellow helped her swing her legs over the stern and onto the deck.

“Hola. I’m Juan, the captain, and this is Tito, my first mate.”

Tito waved and then helped Cooper over the back of the boat.

“I’m Amanda and this is Chad.”

“There aren’t many instructions on the booking and you didn’t bring scuba equipment. What are the plans?” Captain Juan said.

“We’re looking for a boat,” Cooper said.

“Que?”

“My sister disappeared on the Ocean Fox last Sunday. We believe the boat is in one piece and we want to find it.”

Juan furrowed his fuzzy brows. “Where do you want to go? We can’t cross into prohibited waters.”

“We thought we’d start by searching the shores of the lagoon and the sea side. Look at any place somebody can stash a boat,” Cooper said.

“Juan, you’re the captain of a vessel and Tito, I bet you’ve spent a lot of time on the water. We need your expertise. Where would you hide this one?” Amanda said, waving a hand over the deck.

“There is a lot of shore to cover—and there are many boats. Are we looking for a needle in a haystack?” Juan said.

“I think finding a needle may be far easier,” Cooper said.

* * *

Amanda’s clenched jaw
ached and her neck muscles felt as knotted as a macramé project gone awry. She and Cooper spent the morning riding around the lagoon, inspecting boat after boat after boat—every size and shape imaginable. They had brought along binoculars and other equipment to help in the search, but no luck. A little hope rose every time they spotted another vessel, but died with each disappointment.

“Who knew there were so many yachts in Cancun?” Amanda raised the binoculars to survey a watercraft on a trailer. “We must have seen hundreds already.”

“Juan, could the boat be on land?” Cooper shouted up to the flybridge.

“Sí…but it would have to be a pretty big trailer.”

“Where would they pull it out of the water?”

“At a marina.”

“So they would need help,” Cooper said.

“Probably.”

“Boss, give your eyes a rest and skip the ones on land. I don’t think they’d want that kind of attention,” Cooper said. “Besides, if they pulled it out, it’s probably halfway to Costa Rica by now.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Amanda said.

“Uh, Juan’s captain, I’m just the second mate.”

Another world existed in Cancun’s lagoon. Impenetrable walls of mangroves obscured the shoreline, and the water lacked the turquoise hue found over the white sands on the ocean side. Ladyfish, baby tarpons and barracuda swam in the waters, making the lagoon their home.

Most fishing charters and water jungle tours originated in the lagoon. As Juan navigated the Sea Ray along the shore, lines of wave runners and small boats played “follow the leader,” cruising through the lagoon and out to Punta Nizuc coral reef for snorkeling. A few hours later the water version of a conga line returned before another group ventured out.

In spite of the knockdown on the beach the previous night, Amanda had to laugh, recalling her flustered father’s comments.

“What’s so funny?” Cooper asked.

“I remembered Dad’s sage advice on snorkeling.” Even after his biting accusations and deceit, they remained father and daughter; stuck with each other by some bizarre tie that bound them together. Love? Yes. A distorted, mangled Frankenstein version kept them linked. Even if he had entangled himself with a drug dealer.

Her father couldn’t be selling—unless his golfing buddies wanted to score a few spare OxyContins—or Viagra. To her knowledge, Don Sloane rarely stepped outside the confines of The Villages, and although his video stores had flourished, it wasn’t due to his salesmanship. His success was a “build it and they will come” story: he had chosen prime locales for his stores. If her father involved himself with this Marty guy, it had to be for a loan, not dealing.

Her dried out contacts grated against her eyes and her arms felt as heavy as anchors after holding up the binoculars for hours. Tito, bless his heart, had helped search all morning, but at noon he abandoned his post to prepare lunch. Based on the morning’s pace, Amanda feared it would take days to motor around the lagoon.

Tito’s willingness to assist and Juan’s quiet patience allayed her fears. It didn’t appear the kidnappers had arranged the boat’s availability for Amanda and Cooper.

A call from Jaz with an update on Natalia broke the monotony. The housekeeper had asked to return to work, although Jaz suggested she wait. Natalia had insisted she begin cleaning again.