Tourist Trapped (21 page)

“Now that’s a compliment every man waits his entire life to hear.” He flicked the non-existent cigarette out of his hand and crushed it into the ground with the toe of his Birkenstock sandal and walked on. “Don’t be too sure I’m as crooked as I’m supposed to be.”

“What makes you people so strange—the sci-fi movies or some underground computer game you’re all sworn to play? I haven’t been able to break the code.”

“It’s elementary, Watson, the code is the code.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You have to be one of us to understand. Ask your friend Lauren; she’ll explain.”

They turned onto a quieter street. She normally ran into few people in the residential areas, but occasionally the park bustled with families. She didn’t know why some nights were busier than others, maybe for the same reason families gathered at the water near Casa Maya on Sundays: it depended upon their work schedules.

“What happened when spring break ended?” Cooper said.

“What?”

“With Miguel.”

“I returned for another week in the summer. I told my parents I’d met someone, but neglected to disclose the age gap. Between visits we exchanged letters and I begged him to come to the States, but he always refused, claiming he couldn’t get away.”

The undigested shrimp in her stomach churned. “At Thanksgiving I checked into the hotel and then walked across the street to see him—and found him with his wife and two young children.”

“Were the kids his?”

She nodded. “They’d been married for five years, long before I came along.”

“So you broke it off and that’s why you never wanted to see him again?”

“No, I was young and stupid. He cajoled me into an affair and, being naïve and head over heels in love, I didn’t care he had a family. I figured eventually he’d realize he couldn’t live without me and leave his wife and kids.”

“How long did it continue?”

“I came back again for spring break and another week the following summer. Then Dad left Mom.”

“That must have been devastating.”

“Worse. I despised my dad and the shrew for breaking up our family; for stealing my dad away from me. And then it hit me. I was Miriam.”

“With Miguel.”

“I had no qualms about bedding a married man; why was I any better than the wench who broke up our family? I cut off all communication with Miguel. I sent back his letters and stayed away from Cancun for years. I refused to return until Lauren twisted my arm, but she understood parts of Cancun were off-limits.”

Why did she spill her guts to Cooper, her employee? Dining at La Parrilla tonight, feeling Miguel’s arms around her last evening—she felt like a volcano ready to erupt, needing to spew forth tidbits about her life to vent some of the pressure. Unfortunately she got carried away and once again exposed too much of herself.

“You chose a profession where you make cheaters pay dearly for their transgressions. Are you on a crusade?”

“Cooper, you want to continue this line of questioning or do you want to live?”

“Sorry, Boss. Not another word on the subject.”

They neared the entrance to the park. No bands played and only a handful of food vendors looked open.

“How does Matthew Baird fit into all of this?”

Matthew. She hadn’t spoken to him since Monday morning. That rat’s nest would need to wait for another day to untangle. “He’s my fiancé. End of story.”

A smattering of couples and families relaxed in the park. A pair of toddlers sat on a wooden bench, focusing all energies on the melting ice cream cones in their pudgy little hands.

Around the fringes of the grounds lingered the souls Amanda knew she would find roaming the streets. Stray dogs wandered, inspecting every scrap of trash that lay on the ground. She unwrapped her double order of steak and tortillas and spread it over the concrete. One mutt’s engorged nipples meant a litter of pups waited nearby.

“I hate to see abandoned animals, in any country. Breaks my heart.” She threw away the bag and they resumed their walk. “Lauren and I found an agency that runs sterilization clinics here and, besides donating, we’ve wanted to come down and volunteer.” She regarded the thin, neglected dogs. “I think maybe this is the winter we do it.”

“Do you still love him?”

“Matt?”

“Miguel.”

“That would be absurd.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I know.”

A shot rang out and a dog yelped. People and animals scattered. A gun fired again.

“Get down!” Cooper pushed her to the ground and covered her with his body.

They heard shouting, more running and a few minutes later police sirens.

Cooper rolled off of her. “You okay?”

“I think so.” Blood oozed from his arm. “But you’re not.”

TWENTY-SIX

Tuesday December 15, Evening

The flashing lights
from the line of police cars illuminated the park with disco brilliance. Families who had been relaxing in the area gathered around the edges, watching the action and offering information to the police officers. The strays disappeared, shadows in the dark.

Amanda sat cross-legged on the ground, one arm wrapped around the grimy neck of a bleeding dog, hanging on to keep the injured animal from running away before making sure someone treated the gunshot wound.

Amanda had yanked off the gauze blouse she had worn over her tank top, wadded up half and held it to the dog’s shoulder. The other half had stemmed Cooper’s bleeding before the ambulance had whisked him to the emergency room.

A female officer stood over Amanda with a pad and pen.

“I told you, I didn’t see anything,” Amanda said to a detective Vargas. “Cooper and I were walking through the park when we heard two shots. He pushed me down and we waited, but there wasn’t any more gunfire.”

The dog’s thin skin vibrated over protruding ribs, and strands of drool dripped from her muzzle. Amanda and Cooper had followed the blood drops across the pavement and dragged the terrier mix out from under a parked car. “We need to get this dog to a vet.”

The policewoman jotted down some notes. “What is this Cooper’s last name?”

“Cooper. His first name is Chad. Can I go now? I need to find an animal hospital for this poor creature and I want to make sure Coop—Chad’s okay.” From what Amanda could tell when she had looked at Cooper’s arm, she thought the bullet had missed bone, but she wanted to hear an official diagnosis.

“Señor Cooper is probably in the emergency room by now and we’re almost finished, Señora Sloane. Why were you in the park?”

“After dinner at La Parrilla we took a shortcut to Tulum Avenue.” The pup whimpered. “Who can help me with this dog?”

“Is Señor Cooper your boyfriend?”

“No, he’s my coworker. Please, she’s bleeding. We need to get this dog treated.”

“Do you spend time with coworkers in Cancun often?”

“Officer Vargas, I’m not answering one more question until this animal is on her way to a vet.” The stray dogs of downtown Cancun had enough of a struggle without being target practice for snipers.

“Señora Sloane, what do you want the police department to do?”

“Allow me to take this dog to a vet, or have one of your officers take her.”

“And who will pay for the treatment?”

“I will, of course. Now which is it?”

The policewoman walked over to a couple of uniformed officers and pointed to the dog. They chuckled and nodded, and one jogged to a squad car and pulled out a length of rope. Vargas returned with both of them. “They’ll take the dog to the animal hospital for you.”

Smirking, they bent over to remove the dog, looping the rope over its neck. The animal whined and shook harder.

Amanda pulled the dog to her chest. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to let you touch this animal until I know you’re going to show her some compassion. She’s scared and hurt and deserves kindness.” Amanda’s face stone, she waited.

The smiles vanished. “Yes, señora, we’ll be careful.”

Amanda patted the dog and kissed the side of her soggy, flea-bitten face. “You’ll be okay baby, I’ll check in on you.” She released her and the second officer tried to push the dog’s haunches, but the dog cowered. Finally he picked up the dog.

“Thank you officers,” Amanda said.

“Now can we get back to my questions?” The policewoman tapped her pen against her notepad. “This Señor Cooper works with you? Why are you both in Cancun?”

“He’s helping me with the disappearance of my sister and her husband,” Rebecca and Trent Adams.

The officer cocked her head. “Disappearance? Are they U.S. citizens?”

“Yes. They arrived on December third and went on a fishing charter on the sixth. They haven’t been seen since and we hadn’t heard anything until we received a ransom call on Friday.”

“Why haven’t you notified the police?”

“Excuse me? My stepmother, Miriam Sloane—”

“Your maiden name is Sloane? You’re Amanda Sloane?”

“Yes. Does my marriage status have some bearing on the case?”

“Lo siento, no. Please proceed.”

“As I was saying, my stepmother, Miriam Sloane, contacted the Cancun police department on December seventh, and Cooper and I visited your department multiple times, as have my father and Miriam.”

“It’s strange that I haven’t heard anything about two missing Americans, and it’s equally strange that they’ve been kidnapped.” She chewed on the end of her pen. “Unless…maybe it’s getting worse.” She bit the pen again.

“Officer, you’re confusing me.”

“Lo siento. Although Cancun isn’t the most violent of areas in Mexico—just between you and me—we have plenty of drug troubles here and with them come rapes, murders and kidnappings. But usually U.S. citizens aren’t attacked. Only on rare occasions do we find foreigners assaulted or abducted.” She tapped the pen against her front teeth.

“You said they disappeared while on the water?” Detective Vargas said. “Maybe a drug bust went bad, or some smugglers viewed them as easy prey. How many were on the boat?”

“Three. The captain, my sister and her husband.”

The policewoman grimaced. “That’s a small group. It could be that our drug traffickers are getting braver and pirated the boat.”

“Based on the evidence we’ve been able to gather, Cooper and I suspect this was planned. Rebecca and Trent weren’t merely in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Why aren’t we aggressively hitting the case? Who is on the team of officers you’re working with?”

“A Lieutenant Rodriguez is the only one we had met until today—and I can tell you we’ve received no help. Instead of assisting us with the investigation, Rodriguez keeps telling us we should pay the ransom because the department has no experience with missing tourists.”

“Mierda.” The officer waved over another policeman. “Javier.”

A young fellow loped over. “What do you need, Lucia?”

“You know Diego Rodriguez pretty well, right?”

“Yeah…” His expression soured. “Why?”

“Señora Sloane has missing family members that may have been kidnapped while at sea. Americans. Did you hear about them?”

“No.”

“Neither did I. Our amigo, Rodriguez, seems to be handling the case himself. Below the radar.”

“That corrupt pendejo.”

“Great—first kidnappers and now corrupt policemen,” Amanda said. “Is there anyone we can trust?”

“Me, Amanda. You can trust me,” Vargas said. “I’m Miguel’s sister.”

* * *

A nurse led
Amanda through a flurry of medical staff to a quiet corner of the emergency room. Behind the curtain, Cooper sat on a bed while a fit young man in scrubs wrapped gauze around the wound. No blood in sight, except for smudges over Amanda, and Cooper’s shorts.

“Hey Boss, how’s the dog?”

“Hopefully better than you.” She eyed the thick bandage. “Is it bad?”

“No serious damage, but we’ll need to watch for infection,” the man said.

“Dr. Galvez, this is Amanda Sloane.”

“Thanks for taking such good care of Cooper,” Amanda said.

“He’s been a model patient.” The doctor’s caramel-colored skin and muscled shoulders clashed with his patient’s physique. Naked to the waist, Cooper looked out of place in the Caribbean, with his pasty paunch—why hadn’t he peeled off his polo shirt on Juan’s boat to catch some rays? She had wondered the same when he disrobed to snorkel. He fit the quintessential professorial type: keen mind, mushy muscles.

And yet, Amanda’s hand yearned to roam across the terrain of Cooper’s flesh, to search out the spots where he would quiver beneath her touch. For an instant she imagined the taste of his kiss.

She felt blood rush to her face.
Cooper? And me? Cooper?

“Our favorite cop is dirty,” he said. “The policemen who interviewed me confirmed that nothing he’s done fits their standard protocol for a kidnapping.”

“Lucia told me the same thing.”

“Lucia?”

“Officer Vargas, the detective who questioned me at the park. She’s pursuing it with the police captain. She promised to call me with an update in the morning. Do you think he’s in deep enough to lead us to Rebecca and Trent?”

“Don’t know, depends on who’s running the show. If it’s a powerful drug cartel, our guy may be nothing more than flotsam.”

“If that’s the case, nothing’s changed—except the addition of a hole in your arm.”

“And you worried I wouldn’t have any souvenirs.”

* * *

Amanda’s eyelids barely
opened, scraping against her corneas with each blink. Sleep denied her. She sat on the balcony, cradling a small glass of tequila, and listening to the surf. She had changed out of her bloody clothes, donning an oversize T-shirt for a nightgown.

What had they stepped into? Now, poor Cooper sported a crater in his arm. She cringed, imagining the one-sided conversation that would transpire with Mrs. Cooper at the annual Christmas party.
Ouch
. The woman would probably extricate an equivalent chunk out of Amanda’s hide—and rightly so.

What did she look like? Was Cooper’s wife tall, willowy? She had to be brilliant; Amanda couldn’t imagine Cooper marrying anyone lacking intellect. His partner must be kindhearted and a person who laughed easily. The opposite of Amanda.

Cooper’s family waited for him in Chicago, a wife and children who expected him to remain intact. No pieces missing. On the way back to the hotel she had suggested that Cooper return to the States, but he refused.
Almost as obstinate as a Sloane
.

She wanted him back home, out of harm’s way…and out of her heart. If they didn’t put some distance between them, Amanda worried she’d embarrass herself. Cooper trusted his boss not to make a move on one of the underlings—especially one of the married ones. Especially him.

When did her feelings for him grow? When did she become an emotional whore—first Matt, then Miguel, and now Cooper? All wrong for her. Every one of them. With each passing day, Amanda found herself inching closer to becoming that blasted, quivering blob of sentimentality and schmaltz she feared.

She sloshed around a mouthful of tequila, hoping the sting would bring her to her senses.

Cooper. She needed his help. It was nothing more than a silly infatuation with a brainy guy who kept coming up with brilliant ideas every time they hit a wall searching for her sister. She wouldn’t really fall for a nerd…would she?

Someone knocked on the door.
Great. Cooper can’t sleep, either.
She’d need to turn him away. Quickly
.

Amanda padded across the marble toward the door. “Cooper, it’s the middle of the night, what do you—”

“Who’s Cooper?” Matt’s mass filled her doorway and entered the room, shutting the door behind him. “Miss me?”

Her jaw dropped to her chest. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m glad to see you, too, Babe.” Matt tossed his bag on the floor and pulled her to him, kissing her. “You taste like tequila.”

“It’s Mexico. What did you expect, Bailey’s?”

“I missed you.”

“Evidently.”

“Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Why are you here?”

“I got concerned when I couldn’t reach you. I’ve been trying your phone for more than a day.”

The phone. She forgot to turn it back on after their conversation at the dock. Everyone critical to her used the new number. “Sorry, the battery must have died. It’s not as if I spend a lot of time calling people when on vacation—so you flew down? Couldn’t you have left a message on the phone in my room?”

“I told you. I missed you.” Matt’s hand slid beneath her T-shirt and panties, massaging her butt cheek. “I’ve been very, very lonely.” His hand ventured farther.

Thoughts of Cooper filled her head and she froze. “Matt, no.”

He nuzzled her neck. “That’s not a very warm welcome.”

Amanda pushed him away. “I’m—I’m really tired. Can we pick this up in the morning? Get a good night’s sleep and talk over breakfast?”

“As long as it’s in bed.” He unbuttoned his Hawaiian shirt, pulled off his shorts and briefs, and sprawled over the mattress. “Are you coming?” He patted the spread.

Fantastic. Not only couldn’t she sleep, she’d have to fight off Matthew Baird’s overtures all night.

“Fine.” She locked the door, turned off the lights and, after slamming down the remaining tequila, slid in next to her fiancé who, ironically, scraped the bottom of her list of preferred males.

He spooned next to her and stroked her abdomen, working his way downward. Amanda slapped his hand. “I told you, I’m not interested.”

He ran his lips along the nape of her neck. “Babe, it’s been a week.”

She sat up and shoved his shoulder. “Back off or sleep in the lobby.”

“Okay, okay—I get it.”

Amanda lay back down and he molded his body to hers, but kept his hands to himself. Within minutes his half of the bed rumbled with snores.

The weak surf sloshed against the beach, the sound feebly making its way into the room, barely audible over Matt’s snorts.

Her mind tried to dissect the events of the last few days. When did she start feeling something for Cooper? Were her emotions merely misplaced feelings stirred up from her encounter with Miguel that searched for someplace to settle, like the sand on the stingray she and Cooper had seen while snorkeling? Could all of the angst revolve around Miguel?

The memento came to mind. That bottle of sand—choosing it hadn’t been an accident.

History always repeated itself. Once again, Amanda fell in love in Mexico, with a married man.

Crap.

* * *

The muggy air
in the tiny, sweltering hut didn’t move, as oppressive as a cinder block on Rebecca’s chest. The walls closing in on her, she couldn’t stop crying. Trent was dead—how could he be so stupid? So careless? Leaving her all alone in the middle of nowhere with masked men possessing an arsenal.

They killed him so easily, like blowing out a match. Had Trent become disposable after he offered up the ransom information? Would she be next or would they allow her to return to her family once they received the money?