Prologue Two

The Caribbean

F or their fifteenth anniversary, a thirty-something couple decided to make a return to St. Kitts. With its rolling green hills, fertile land, and pristine sandy beaches where the deep rich blue of the Atlantic meets the tranquil turquoise of the Caribbean, St. Kitts is a small island of 50,000 people. Just southeast of Puerto Rico, it beckons visitors to experience its beauty. At only sixty-five square miles, it's a very low-key alternative to the more popular and much larger islands, like Jamaica and Puerto Rico, which are seven and eight times its size.

With the exception of the addition of some eateries, water sports, and a golf course, the island has changed very little over the years. It has preserved its casual, slow-paced, easy, island vibe.

The couple was sitting on the veranda that overlooked Mt. Nevis, having their final breakfast of the trip.

"I'm going to miss this place," she sighed.

"Yeah. Me too," he replied as he scrolled through his phone. "We could stay a few more days. The booking site says it's available."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He continued to read the information on his phone. "Get this, the house we're staying in is on the market."

"For real?" she asked.

He began to read aloud: "‘Beautiful cottage, two bedrooms, two baths, with view of Mt. Nevis and the sea. Built two years ago. Great income property.' " He stopped. "Yeah. We're the income."

"Wait, honey. What are they asking?"

" ‘Call for quote.' "

"So call them, for Pete's sake."

"Why?"

"Income property. We've been talking about investing in something why not this?"

He looked up from his phone. "You're serious." It was a statement, not a question.

"Why not? If we're going to buy something for rental income, this could be perfect. I betcha it would pay for itself, and we'd have a place to spend our own vacations."

He looked at her. "Let me see what I can find out."

She gave him her best Miss Hennepin County smile and squeezed his hand. He placed the call and spoke with a realtor while writing numbers on a piece of paper. "Sounds like a worthwhile venture. Let me speak to my wife about it. I noticed it's available to rent next week, so we'd like to stay on. Give us more of an opportunity to delve into this proposal. Great. Thanks. Talk soon."

He turned to her. "If what he told me is accurate, you're right. This place pays for itself, provided there are no hurricanes."

She giggled. "How much are they asking?"

He slid the paper over to her. "That is in the ballpark, honey. What's the difference if the property is close to home or in the Caribbean?"

Her rosy cheeks got rosier. "Everything!"

"Are you sure you want to do this? Part of the plan was that I would take care of the property, like fixing stuff. It's not going to be profitable if I have to fly here to do it."

She knew he was kidding. "Well, I'm sure there's someone who could manage it for us. Whoever is managing it now, maybe. Did the realtor say why the owners want to sell it? We're not sitting on a sinkhole, are we?"

"Nah. The husband needed medical care, which means the family needs money. I don't know if they're desperate, but if you're really sure, we can try to negotiate."

"Swell!" she cooed, with her beauty pageant smile and pink cheeks.

Two days later, they were sitting in the realtor's office, filling out the paperwork. The closing wouldn't be for a few more weeks, so they flew home and made arrangements to return when the date was set. They were both keen to "Pop the bubbly from our veranda."

Everything proceeded according to plan, and the couple made their second journey in a month. The closing went smoothly, and the couple did exactly what they'd anticipated and opened a bottle of champagne on their new veranda as they watched the sky turn from light pink to deep red to purple.

The following morning, the couple decided to rent a small powerboat and cruise the shoreline of their new home away from home. She clung to his arm as their boat scooted around what appeared to be an old fishing boat. She noticed someone was hanging off the side and pulling up a basket of something. She thought it might be a crab trap, until a shot rang out and the person who had been leaning over fell in the water, surrounded by a pool of blood.

She started screaming, and her husband hit the throttle and hightailed it out of there until the fishing boat was no longer in sight. They felt shock and horror as they flew past the dock where they were supposed to return the boat.

"What should we do?" she yelled over the sound of the ramped-up motor. "We need to go to the police." She started shaking as he slowed down the skiff.

"I don't know if we should do that," he said. "We're in a foreign country." He cut the engine and let the boat drift.

"What does that mean?" She was in tears now.

"We don't really know who's corrupt and who isn't. We gotta be careful," he cautioned her.

"What if we call the American Embassy?"

"I think the closest one is in Barbados."

"How far is that?"

"Too far for this little dinghy."

Several days later, slivers of the couple's boat were found floating along the shoreline. There was no sign of their bodies. The newspaper simply reported:

American couple feared dead in St. Kitts due to boating accident. No other details are available at this time.