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  “Theo, you’re up,” Quinn continues. “Tell us what you’ve got.”

  Theo Selznick stirs his heaping bowl of shrimp and rice. “I’m thinking Paolo Salese and Nigel James are working together to cover this up.”

  “The playboy lifeguard and the suave cop?” Jana asks.

  “Both clearly know something. Paolo took our bait money with a promise to lead me to the burial site. And as for Nigel James, I’m pretty sure he’s our doer. We had a little talk earlier today and I started pushing buttons. I really thought he was going to try and do me.”

  Through a mouthful of jerk pork, Otto mutters, “We’re not that lucky.”

  “Why would James suddenly snap and kill a tourist?” Kate asks. “I’m sure Paige isn’t the first pretty schoolgirl he’s encountered on this island.”

  “This cop is extremely vain. I could see him playing the role of the good guy, offering a ride home, and then putting the moves on her. Only when Paige doesn’t play along, Nigel gets rough.”

  “And you think Paolo the lifeguard saw it?” Jana asks. At the same time, her cell phone vibrates. She looks down at the screen and grins.

  “No doubt,” Theo replies. “Maybe the lifeguard was lovestruck and followed her around all night. Saw something he wasn’t supposed to see.”

  Kate finishes her mouthful of curried shrimp. “I don’t know. I’m liking Jamie Halsey for this. At first he denied everything, no doubt thinking that Daddy’s lawyers would make everything all right. But when I convinced him that Daddy had in fact sent me to help him, he got very worried.”

  “Yeah, but witnesses saw Paige leave the boat and then meet up with Nigel James on the beach,” Theo says. “What, did Halsey and Kurtz wait an hour, then sneak around and ambush her right there on the surf?”

  “Then again, the Clee girls thought Halsey was to blame,” Jana says. “Brooke Clee said something about protecting a trust fund jerk. She also seemed to think that Paige was still alive and island-hopping with her new, rich friend.”

  There’s a sudden muffled sound that startles the others. They turn to see Otto, his mouth chewing on a sizable piece of jerk pork. He holds up a finger, hang on a sec. The group waits, resisting the urge to roll their eyes.

  After a small eternity, Otto swallows his food and then speaks. “Paige Ryerson is still alive. I have proof.”

  Chapter 19

  THE STINGRAYS (continued)

  “So you just let us go on and on?” Kate asks. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

  “I was hungry,” Otto says.

  Kate’s eyes narrow to a kind of laser-beam focus. Are you jerking us around or what? Otto is the one team member she knows the least, and that worries her. Theo looks angry, too—and those two shared a jail cell for a while. Jana, meanwhile, shakes her head and smiles softly, which is what she always does when she’s frustrated and doesn’t want it to show. She types something on her cell phone.

  “Hey,” Otto says when he sees the look on his teammates’ faces, “you guys seemed so excited about all of the hard work you’ve been doing. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  Quinn says, “Let’s hear your proof, Otto.”

  “Okay. So I spent most of the day impersonating Paige’s older brother. She doesn’t have one, but whatever. Most people don’t know that. I wanted to see if anybody else had eyes on her while she was here. And I found three people who saw Paige Ryerson on three different occasions on three different parts of the island. And this was over the weekend, after the Clee girl first reported her as a missing person.”

  “Why didn’t they call the police?” Kate asks.

  “They told me they did but never heard anything in response,” Otto says.

  Theo frowns. “Who are these witnesses, anyway?”

  Otto points at Quinn’s laptop. “I did some quick background checks on all three, and they’re solid citizens. I uploaded it to your secure folder, Matthew. You can do your deep web magic from there, but I’d be shocked if they were anything but legit.”

  They all knew that Matthew Quinn was an expert at surfing the so-called deep web, the murky underbelly of the internet that lies beyond search engines and passwords. It is the kind of digital underworld that takes a skilled navigator to operate.

  “I’ll check them out,” Quinn says. “What did the witnesses say Paige was doing?”

  “They all said she looked like she was feeling no pain—either tipsy or maybe even a little stoned. This is, after all, the tropics, man.”

  “And somehow this drunk or possibly stoned girl was able to evade an island-wide search for her?” Kate asks. “Sorry, I’m not buying it.”

  “Why would these people lie?” Otto asks. “It’s not as if they came forward with this information on their own. If I hadn’t gone digging, chances are they wouldn’t have told another soul.”

  Theo hurls his fork into the sink like a petulant child. “So what I’m hearing is that everybody’s guilty, or nobody’s guilty, because our so-called victim might be off on a bender somewhere.”

  “So where does this leave us?” Jana asks. “And what do we do next?”

  “For one thing, we don’t take our frustrations out on innocent cutlery,” Quinn says, cocking an eye at Theo. “This also means that the next phase of our investigation will require great care. Whether Paige is dead or alive, I believe we’re dealing with a conspiracy—not the passionate mistake of a single perpetrator. And if they’re smart enough to form a conspiracy that’s eluded the feds, they’re smart enough not to get caught. The clock is ticking. Our ruses may have kept the suspects close at hand, but that won’t last forever.”

  “I guess this means no dessert,” Otto says.

  Jana is the first to rise, straightening her cocktail dress with a few tidy, precise movements. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m dying for a drink.”

  Chapter 20

  JANA (THE ACTOR)

  I promise you, my dear Matthew, my desire for a cocktail has nothing to do with our wonderful afternoon at the beach sipping overpriced kiddie juice.

  But like you said, the clock is ticking, and I don’t want to let certain opportunities slip away.

  As predicted, Jamie Halsey decided to return to Turks and Caicos along with Captain Kurtz. Before our 6:00 p.m. meeting with the rest of the group, I paid a visit to the marina and recruited a couple of confidential informants who were more than happy to text me when the Hostile Wake-Over made an appearance. Amazing, the information you can glean with nothing more than a crisp hundred-dollar bill and a knowing smile.

  One of my informants texted in the middle of our group meeting with a bonus piece of news: Jamie Halsey was apparently headed straight to his favorite watering hole, the Infiniti Bar at the Grace Bay Club.

  The name is not misleading. The main feature of this bar is a ninety-foot stretch of black granite that runs all the way out to the water. Not quite infinity but close enough, I suppose. I weave around the well-heeled travelers snacking on ceviche and sipping $18 cocktails until I find Halsey. He’s doing shots of Grey Goose and flirting—badly—with a pair of glistening young women who are either twins or friends who aspire to look exactly alike.

  I hate to see a young man flirting badly. I decide to show him how it’s done.

  You know how I flirt, my dear Matthew. I’m irresistible.

  Especially when I do nothing except order a drink and look like I have the kinds of problems that only a rich young man can solve.

  “Hey, what’s going on?”

  This is his opening gambit. Snooze.

  I say nothing but give him the tiniest of openings—a brief glance, followed by a facial expression that’s somewhere between You’re Going to Disappoint Me, Dear Boy and I Might Be Bored Enough to Let You Try.

  “This your first time here at the Infiniti? Crazy, right? I just love the ocean breeze you get out here. Best bar on the island.”

  “It is nice,” I allow.

  “I’m going to
buy you a drink,” he says, emboldened.

  Notice there’s not even a question. It’s a bald statement of fact. He’s going to buy me a drink. And presumably this is going to mean I owe him something.

  The glitter twins long forgotten, Halsey lowers himself into the seat next to me as he signals to the bartender. I’ve barely had the time to sip my first drink, but now I have a backup coming. I understand the strategy: he’s trapped me here for at least two drinks. After which…well, I’m sure he’ll suggest something.

  We do the usual What’s your name? and Wow, such a lovely name and You’re an actress? I would have guessed model and so on until he finally builds up to his bold suggestion: You know where you can catch the best ocean breezes? On a boat.

  “You’re right,” I say. “I love the open seas.”

  “Then you’re in luck, because I happen to own a boat. A yacht, in fact. Squadron 60. You ever been on one of those? It lives in that sweet spot where bad-ass meets luxury.”

  Pretty sure he’s quoting the man who sold him the yacht right now.

  “I’m not sure I’m dressed for a boat ride, Jamie.”

  “That’s the beauty of a yacht, sweetie. You can wear anything you want.”

  Wait for it.…

  “Or nothing at all,” he continues.

  I scrunch up my nose a little and turn my attention back to the dregs of my first cocktail. I have to let him know that he’s just stepped over the line. Not a deal breaker, necessarily, but I’m not some strumpet who will strip naked at the mere suggestion of a spin around the bay.

  Halsey, to his credit, senses this and immediately turns it down a gear.

  “You’re right, though. That dress is too pretty for a cruise. How about we take a stroll down the beach? My family spends the holidays down here every year, and I could show you some places the locals don’t even know about.”

  “Could you,” I say.

  Is this what he told Paige Ryerson? Meet me later, I’ll show you a place the locals don’t even know about—like six feet under the sand. For a brief moment I wonder if he’s a thrill killer, and he’s done this thing a half-dozen times before, at ports all over the Caribbean, protected by Daddy’s bankroll and loyal Captain Kurtz.

  I’m curious to see if he’d try such a thing with me.

  But before I can respond, I hear a loud exclamation: “Brah! I didn’t know you were coming back to the island!”

  I swivel around to see Paolo Salese, playboy lifeguard, arms open and waiting for a hug from his pal Jamie.

  Chapter 21

  JANA (continued)

  “Duuuuude,” Jamie says, then wraps his arms around Paolo for a very manly yet intimate hug. There is more grunting and laughing, and there are more exclamations. For a minute I feel very much like a third wheel. Then Paolo catches a glimpse of me.

  “Hey, who’s this?”

  “Paolo, meet my friend Jana—she’s an actress.”

  The lifeguard takes my hand and gives it an awkward kiss, like you’ve seen in countless movies but never in real life. “Stage or screen?”

  “Minor roles on Broadway, major ones off, you know how it is. A little television work when it’s in New York.”

  But Paolo barely comprehends the words coming out of my mouth. He’s sizing up my body like he’s a costume designer. Then, upon seeing my second cocktail, makes a suggestion. “Dude, we need shots.”

  Shots it is. The bartender busies himself lining up the glasses while Jamie and Paolo busy themselves competing for my attention. As amusing as such a competition might be, I was more interested in hearing these two talk. How do they know each other? Up until this moment, the teams of suspects had been clearly defined: Lifeguard and Cop, Rich Kid and Captain. What connected the Rich Kid with the Lifeguard?

  I gradually withdrew from their antics, and they sensed I was not interested in either as a nighttime companion. They focused on each other, their speech punctuated by shots of Grey Goose. Soon enough, Paolo leaned in close and whispered, “I need some help.”

  “What’s up, man?”

  The bar is bustling, and they no doubt thought they were speaking too softly for anyone to hear. But I learned lip-reading as part of my stage training years ago. To me, their conversation is as clear as a high-definition radio broadcast.

  “I could use your advice on something,” Paolo says. “You know any diamond experts? Like some guy who can authenticate them?”

  “What, did you rob some old lady?” Jamie says, giggling. He’s drunk.

  “Dude, I’m serious. I’ve got a line on something but I need someone I can trust.”

  “No worries. I’ll hook you up. When do you need him?”

  “Tonight, man.”

  “Tonight?”

  “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t super-important. I’m meeting this guy at ten.”

  Halsey pulls out his cell phone and begins thumbing it. “Done. Just texted my guy here on the island.” Then he claps Paolo on the shoulder and, in his normal brah voice, yells: “More shots! Who’s in?”

  Halsey looks over at me expectantly. Perhaps through the haze of alcohol he believes he has another chance. After all, I didn’t flee the scene.

  “What about you, Jana?” he asks.

  “I’ve got the lady’s drinks,” says a voice behind me.

  Your lovely voice, dear Matthew.

  I’m thrilled you came after me, but for these two brats, I still have to play the part. I put on a pout. “Oh, now you want to drink, Matthew. I was having a perfectly lovely time without you.”

  “With these two?” you say, eyebrows cocked. And I love you for it. You have no idea how badly I want to kiss you in that moment.

  But before Paolo and Jamie realize they are being insulted, you whisk me away.

  Chapter 22

  THEO (THE TRADER)

  “You got them?” Paolo asks.

  We’re in the same backwater bar where we first met. The perfect shady place for shady business. Normally I’d suggest a drink, but the kid’s impatient and jittery (and already drunk), so we get down to the matter at hand.

  I open my valise and show him the uncut rocks, tilting the bag a little so they glisten. “Here they are. Now, do you have a little information for me?”

  “Not yet. I have a guy coming to verify those diamonds.”

  “What? You don’t trust me?”

  “No offense, man, but I gotta look out for myself. You understand.”

  Oh, I understand completely. I also understand that guy is supposed to be here any minute, thanks to the intel that Jana provided. Which is why Quinn hacked into Halsey’s phone and texted the diamond authenticator to cancel this evening’s sudden appointment. All that remained was figuring out who would take his place on such short notice.

  And then I see him.

  Oh, boy.

  “You the guy? Yeah, I’ll bet you’re the guy,” Otto says with a rapid-fire cadence, making him sound like Martin Scorsese on uppers. Then he points at me. “Who’s this? I don’t know this guy. Halsey said it would just be you. I don’t know this guy.”

  “Take it easy, man,” Paolo says. “This is my business associate, uh…”

  “Ted,” I say, shaking Otto’s hand. You glorious fool.

  Just you wait, his eyes reply.

  “Ted, huh? Well, yeah, good to meet you, Ted, you the guy with the stuff? I haven’t got long, Halsey said this was an emergency. I’ve never known an emergency that concerned diamonds, but there’s a first time for everything, I suppose. Let me see the stuff, Ted. Come on, break it out.”

  I know what Otto’s doing—taking the attention off me. By the time he’s through, Paolo is going to consider me an old trusted buddy compared to this twitchy weirdo. Which is exactly where we want him.

  Otto’s performance is kind of inspired, I must admit. He balances his manic Scorsese with a bit of Laurence Olivier from Marathon Man, taking his time when it comes to examining each (very fake) diamond from the stash I’ve b
rought. He tut-tuts. He looks at the same facet twice, three times, then a fourth just for good measure. He strokes his chin. He talks to himself. By the time he’s ready for a verdict, Paolo’s practically jumping out of his skin.

  “They’re real, kid.”

  Paolo exhales.

  “Halsey told you about my cut, right? No? Well here’s the deal, I take five of these off your hands. I don’t negotiate because before me, you didn’t know if you had real diamonds or stuff that ladies use on their purses and jackets, what’s that called, when you put bright little pieces of clear plastic on something.…?”

  “Bedazzling,” I offer.

  “That’s exactly right, Ted! You could have been bedazzled by Ted, but thanks to me, you weren’t. You got a problem with me taking five?”

  Paolo says he has no problem with that. Otto nods, takes great care to scoop five pieces of worthless glass into a velvet pouch, and then takes his leave. Paolo is so rattled by Hurricane Otto that I have to nudge him back to the business at hand.

  “So…you’ve got your payoff. Now what about the girl?”

  “Yeah,” Paolo says, sounding like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I’ll take you to her.”

  Chapter 23

  THEO (continued)

  The kid is not entirely disarmed. He has the presence of mind to ask for my gun, then searches me for a wire. It’s a rather sloppy search, though. I’ve had more invasive pat-downs from TSA. There are any numbers of places I could have hidden a wire.

  But I’m not here to secretly record Paolo. I’m here to see if he actually knows where Paige is buried, or if he’s trying to scam me.

  As he leads me all over the island, I begin to suspect it’s the latter. Paolo acts like a kid who forgot he was supposed to deliver an oral report to the class and is making it up as he goes along. Not too much farther now. Sorry, I get a little turned around in the dark. I’ve only been here in the daytime. I swear, just a few more minutes…