Tourist Trapped (22 page)

Her parents would move heaven and earth to get her back home. Her dad had a vast amount of resources at his disposal and he’d take care of it. After all, once Amanda shunned him, Rebecca became his little girl, his precious daughter. She could do no wrong.

And her mom. They were so close, always keeping in touch.
She must be going crazy.
Before her dad moved in, it had always been the two of them. They’d go to the movies together, shopping, out to dinner. Rebecca had few friends, but she never needed them because she had her mother.

Until Trent came along. She had fallen for him the moment he swaggered up to the counter with an armful of videos. Good looking, polite, great manners. When they had dated he put her on a pedestal. He wined and dined her and stole her away to northern Wisconsin for summer weekends, continually doting on her.

After they married, the gleam on their love tarnished. She found him flirting with the women who always noticed when Trent entered the room. On the rare day that Trent filled in for an ailing employee in one of the stores, Rebecca tolerated the excessive giggling and hair flipping by the female clientele. She suspected on occasion he strayed, but she had counted on their last-minute trip to Cancun to offer them a second chance, a new beginning.

Instead, it became the end.

What am I going to do without you, Trent?
Maybe she should fight back, let them shoot her, too. End the misery. Wasn’t it the conclusion the kidnappers were planning, anyway? With the mere pressure of a finger on a trigger, her abductors could mow her down. One moment alive, the next, riddled with bullets.

Do it—kill me so I can be with my husband. In paradise.

The cruel irony, Cancun had been Rebecca’s idea of paradise: turquoise blue waters and beaches the color of the sand in the hourglass that sat on her dad’s desk. As a kid, she had played with the timepiece for hours, observing the granules as they drained through the narrow midsection, the mounds imploding when the lower grains made their way through the opening. She imagined how smooth the sand would be to the touch as it piled into the bottom half of the glass.

The jungle quieted and branches crackled as someone neared her hellhole. Rebecca huddled in the corner. Was this it? Her time to die?

Fine. Finish me off. Free me.

The latch creaked and the door opened. The girl entered.

Did pity gleam in the child’s eyes? The girl lowered her head and set the daily plate of beans, tortillas and fruit on the bare ground, replaced the slosh bucket with an empty one and left a fresh roll of cheap toilet paper.

The girl crept out and started to close the door, but then opened it again. She ventured her head in and gazed at Rebecca, tears streaming down her hollow cheeks. “Lo siento, señora.” The door shut and she was gone.

Alone again.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Wednesday December 16, Morning

Gordon Harding clicked
on the conference phone and continued devouring his breakfast: two farm-fresh eggs, three slices of organic turkey bacon and fresh-squeezed orange juice. Not a single food item spread over his desk came from his agricultural empire.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew how the animals were raised and slaughtered on his farms, with workers who made minimum wage—or less when they hired undocumented immigrants. Corners needed to be cut to keep up production—if an animal wasn’t dead before gutting, well that was the price of industry. As long as bacteria counts stayed below USDA limits—and even that, oftentimes, had its price. Profits were what mattered. He didn’t have the bandwidth to make sure every single consumer obtained safe food, his employees remained healthy, and the staff treated the animals humanely. As long as he kept the stockholders happy, he ruled the empire.

“Good morning, Mr. Harding.”

“Your report is late, Jonathan.”

“Yes sir. We had numerous developments yesterday and some went well into the evening.”

“This will affect your bonus.”

“Understood. First, there is no indication that Ms. Sloane and Mr. Cooper are pursuing any leads surrounding your business activities.”

“You delayed our daily status because nothing happened?”

“Not exactly. Although our Mexican partner planted a distraction—authorized, of course—to slow the search, one of his team members took matters in his own hands and tried to remove Mr. Cooper from the equation.”

“Did he succeed?”

“Mr. Cooper survived.”

“That’s a shame.”

“There’s more. Brady has been handled…and, um, Matthew Baird arrived and spent the night with Ms. Sloane.”

Gordon hurled his knife across the room, barely missing the Gabriel Carter hanging by the mahogany door. “How did he slip out of Chicago?”

“We didn’t expect him to make such a move. Evidently when we informed him that plan A would be shut down, he decided to take action.”

“Fools—what else would he do? He’s tasted the good life. You thought he’d roll over and play dead when you threatened to take it all away? Fix this problem. Immediately.”

“Extermination?”

Gordon pushed away his breakfast. “If you need to, proceed, but I’d rather not. Baird’s high profile—unfortunately, thanks to us—and this could get messy. Try to resolve this one without a corpse, if possible.”

* * *

The noise of
someone banging on her door jolted Amanda out of a dream. Matt snored next to her ear, their limbs entwined and his body heat making her sweat.

Cooper, go away.
Hopefully he’d give up if she ignored him. She hadn’t fallen asleep until the sky began to pink up.

“Amanda, let me in. It’s important.”

She disentangled her arms and legs from Matt and dragged herself out of bed. She threw on a robe and stumbled to the entrance, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. Mussed hair and puffy eyes, she looked awful. Amanda opened the door. “What’s so urgent?”

He burst into her room in nothing but a pair of gym shorts and the bandage on his arm, waving his cell phone. “Cozumel. The phone calls came from Cozumel.”

“We’ve been cruising the wrong shores.”

“I tried to book a trip to the island, but Jasmine and I couldn’t find an available boat.”

“We’ll have to drive down to Playa del Carmen and take the ferry over. We can hire a boat on the island. I’ll call Lucia, grab a shower and meet you in the lobby in a half hour.”

“What should we tell your dad and Miriam?”

“Anything but the truth.”

“What, no breakfast with me, Babe?” Matt called out from the bed as he sat up.

Cooper jumped. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company.” He gave her a look of disdain, as if she had hopped into bed with a complete stranger for a lewd one-night stand.

How dare he?
She set her chin and stood taller. “Give me a few minutes to get cleaned up.”

“You sure? I don’t want to interrupt your sex life for some mundane lead on your sister.”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“I’ve seen dental floss less disposable than the men in your life.”

Go to hell, you philistine prick.
“Cooper, I’m not discussing my personal life with you—especially not at the moment. I’ll meet you downstairs. Please, leave.”

“As you wish…Boss.” He walked out and slammed the door behind him.

She stretched her neck. It would be a helluva ride to the ferry.

“Babe, Lauren’s an awfully strange name for a dude.”

“If that’s your feeble attempt at humor, don’t bother. I’m not in the mood.”

“What’s happened to your sister? Where’s Lauren—and who’s this Cooper guy?” Matt pulled on his briefs and shorts.

“It’s a long story. Look, I have something I need to do. You can’t stay here. Go home.”

“Not without you.”

“Matt, I don’t have time for this.”

“Nor do I. Come back with me. Today. Now.” He grasped her arms and pulled her to him. “Amanda, it’s vital you come back with me. I messed up—I shouldn’t have encouraged you to fly down here. I thought it was the best approach, but I was dead wrong. I need you on the campaign trail with me right away.” His cell phone rang and he raised it to his ear. “Give me today and I’ll have things—” Matt’s face blanched, turning whiter than Cooper’s abdomen. “I’m not agreeing to that—take it all, but you have to allow me to—” His ashen face reddened, brighter than Don Sloane at his best. “Are you crazy? I can’t do that! Hello? Hello?”

Matt hurled his phone onto the bed. “Those assholes—Amanda, I have to leave right away. Please, please come with me.”

“Matt, what’s going on?”

“We have a serious problem with one of our campaign donors.”

“Something illegal?”

“To say the least. Babe, I need you back in Chicago, next to me.”

His phone rang and he shuffled over to the bed and peered at the number. “Fuck.” He shook his head and picked up the phone. “I’m not going without—” The red deepened. “You sonofa—there’s no way I’m—” Matt fixed his stare on Amanda. The fear in his eyes startled her as his face lost all color again.

“I got it, I’m leaving. Now.” He picked up his bag, shoes and shirt and backed out of the doorway. He mouthed the words, “Hurry back, Babe. Please.” before the door closed.

Amanda wondered what twists and turns in the political arena could cause such angst in Matt and jeopardize the campaign. But more urgent matters at hand, she cranked Barry Manilow’s “Even Now” and headed out to the balcony to make a phone call: time to save Rebecca and Trent.

* * *

Chad traipsed around
the lobby, waiting for Amanda to extricate herself from her lover.
Almost eleven already—did they have to squeeze in a “quickie” before parting? Get a grip, man, she has a right.

If they didn’t step on it they’d lose the day. He’d checked online for times: an hour by car to Playa del Carmen and then a forty-minute ferry to Cozumel.

He followed up with the front desk about the package from Vince. Although the tracking number indicated it had been delivered to the resort, no one recalled seeing the parcel. It had mysteriously vanished.

His stomach churned and growled simultaneously. The growling won out. He stopped in the stuffed-bull-head-on-the-wall restaurant and ordered breakfast sandwiches and coffees to-go for two—he sure as hell hoped lover boy wasn’t riding shotgun. Chad reached up to scratch his head and cringed from the pain that stabbed through his arm. The bullet had torn through muscle and flesh. No broken bones, but he wouldn’t arm wrestle for a week or two.

“It’s hard without you here; I’ve been alone since you left yesterday. No, I haven’t seen Amanda. Did you get the money together?”

Chad peeked around the corner. Miriam sat in one of the ornate loveseats along the lobby wall, holding a cell phone to her ear.

She bit her knuckle and her chest heaved up and down. It took a couple of minutes for her to compose herself. “Donny, what are we going to do?”

“Señor Chad? Here’s your breakfast.” The waiter handed him a beverage caddy and a paper bag. “Have a nice day.”

“What time’s your flight?” Miriam’s face contorted. “But I thought you were flying back today—that’s so late! The ransom’s due tomorrow night; I need you here with me, Donny.” For the first time, Chad saw her cheeks pink up. “I can’t believe you’re not going to be here until tomorrow. If anything happens to our daughter, so help me, I’ll never forgive you.”

Chad caught sight of Amanda in the middle of the lobby and hurried to meet her. “Did you know your father isn’t in Cancun?”

“Huh?”

He pointed to Miriam. “She’s conversing with him via phone and she asked the time of his flight.”

Miriam spotted them, ended the call and scurried over. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you for more than a day. Do you have any news?” She touched Chad’s arm next to the bandage. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing serious; just cut myself shaving.”

“You have an odd sense of humor, Chad,” Miriam said.

“I’d describe it as damned peculiar,” Amanda said. “Where’s Dad? Is he meeting you for lunch?”

Miriam blushed. “He had to fly to Florida. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

Amanda cocked her head. “He did? I don’t remember him mentioning plans when we ate at Captain’s Cove.”

“It was a last-minute decision to pull together the ransom money. He met with our accountant and banker.”

“Did he succeed?”

Miriam shook her head. “Not yet.” She grabbed Amanda’s hand. “He wanted me to ask you again. Please.”

Amanda was silent—not a normal state for his boss. She grasped Miriam’s hands. “I can’t make that kind of financial commitment without assurance of Rebecca’s safe return.”

Miriam choked back a sob.

“We’re not giving up—as a matter of fact, there’s a new lead we’re about to investigate. We’ll find her before time runs out.”

A tear rolled down the waif of a woman’s cheek. “What do you know?”

“Nothing definitive—we’ll update you when we have something concrete. In the meantime, rest.” Amanda’s eyes welled with tears. “I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t.”

They left Miriam and walked toward the back of the hotel. Chad realized Amanda wore a swimsuit instead of shorts or a skirt. “Why are you dressed for an afternoon on the beach?”

Lorenzo from security stopped them. “We viewed the videotapes. Come with me.”

They followed him down a hall and into a cramped office where an older man spun through the tape. The picture was grainy, but Chad could tell a teenage boy dropped off the package at the front desk.

“Can you freeze it?” The kid looked familiar, but from where? Chad remembered the face from a photo…on a desk.
Shit, it’s Rodriguez’s son.

* * *

“Throw away the
food, put your backpack in the tote and wear these.” Amanda handed Cooper a beach bag containing a new pair of swim trunks and a T-shirt, and pushed him through the doorway of the men’s room. He complied and stuffed his old clothing into the carryall along with the backpack, while wondering why he was changing into beachwear instead of speeding down the road to Cozumel.

“This way,” she said when he emerged. They strolled across the lobby and past the pools, and then walked along the shore, wandering by families frolicking in the water and soaking up rays. It was the first time they had ventured onto the beach outside of early morning or late in the day and it felt wrong, like playing hooky.

“What are we doing? You understood what I told you this morning, didn’t you? That we need to get to Cozumel?”

“Trust me,” Amanda said.

As time ticked by, they ambled up the beach to the next mega-hotel, weaving between chaise lounges and hustling wait staff.

“C’mon.” Amanda steered them past the neighboring resort’s outdoor bar and pools, and into the crowded lobby. She pulled his arm around her waist and wrapped hers around his. “Pretend you’re my lover.”

“Because you don’t have enough of them?” Her nearness made his armpits and forehead perspire.

“Instead of being a jerk,” she said while giving him an adoring smile, “try to blend in with the guests.” They walked around the side of the lobby and into a hall, and then she yanked him into the women’s restroom.

“What are you doing? Trying to get me arrested?” He bent over, looking for feet beneath the stall doors. Empty.

“We don’t have time for explanations.” She pulled another T-shirt out of her bag. “Hurry, put this on along with your shorts. And you’ll need to wear these.” She handed him a different Cancun baseball cap and a pair of men’s sunglasses.

“Where did you get all of this stuff?”

“A quick stop in the gift shop.” Amanda threw a cotton skirt and T-shirt over her swimsuit and stuffed her hair beneath a Cancun hat and donned new shades. “Give me your prescription glasses. I’ll put them in my bag.”

He handed them to her. “I can’t see a thing without them.”

“Don’t worry, we don’t have far to walk.” She slipped the eye frames into a side pocket of her sisal bag and then pulled out a gaudy Cancun carryall. She set her old tote into the larger, canvas one. “Ready?”

“For what?”

“You’ll see.”

“Not without my glasses.”

“Quit whining and let’s go.” She grabbed his hand and led him out of the bathroom and down the hall, through the bustling kitchen and onto the loading dock.

“There you are, Chica. I was getting worried.” If Chad didn’t know any better, he’d swear the voice belonged to Miguel.

The male figure hurried them down the dock’s steps and into a car. Amanda sat in the front and Chad slipped onto the backseat, next to a knapsack. “Both of you, stay down,” Miguel said.

Chad barely shut the door before the vehicle burned rubber. He hugged the seat, trying to assimilate the fact that Amanda just left her Chicago lover to be picked up by her Cancun lover, while Chad hunkered down in the back, nearly blind without his prescription lenses.

An accordion-heavy song played on the radio, far more traditional than the dance music heard at most of the tourist spots. Sun beat through the window, baking Chad’s head as he stayed low. His phone vibrated with a call.