32. Caro

"Vince, do you have a minute?"

This was the second time I'd tried calling him, but last night, I'd gotten his voicemail. I sensed a theme this week. Knox squeezed my hand across the dining table, and I tried to smile but didn't do a great job of it.

Along with Ryder, we'd had a long discussion about who to call. The two men were convinced there was a dirty cop somewhere in the San Gallicano PD, and that the cop was involved in the turtle investigation. But I still had a hard time believing Vince was a traitor. I'd known him for nearly three years, from the day we met in a bar on Ilha Grande, me terrified of where life would take me, him moping over a beer because he'd just split from his long-term boyfriend. He'd drunk a lot in those days, but now he'd gotten over the breakup and we mostly met for lunch or sometimes dinner with fruit juice. Vince was the one who'd introduced me to Franklin.

But with Stacey's safety at risk and my judgment admittedly poor, we couldn't afford to get this wrong. So before I called Vince, we'd reported her disappearance to the missing persons bureau on Ilha Grande. A bored-sounding guy had asked a few perfunctory questions and assured me someone would look into the matter. I wasn't convinced that they would.

Vince, on the other hand, was dedicated to his job, albeit hampered by a lack of time. He'd once told me that he'd never wanted to be anything but a cop. If he wasn't in league with the very people who could have harmed Stacey, he'd make an effort to find her. And why would he help the smugglers? Money? He lived in a one-bedroom apartment and rode a scooter. If he'd sold out, wouldn't he at least buy the Ducati he'd always dreamed of owning?

"I'll have to call you back later."

"This is important."

"A paddleboarder just found a body on Cinnamon Beach, so I'm afraid that takes precedence right now."

Ice filled my veins. "A…a body?"

"You didn't hear it from me. The doc's on his way."

"What kind of body?"

"A human one, or they wouldn't have called me."

"I mean is it male or female?"

"Caro, I can't talk about this. It's an active investigation."

"Please, Vince. I'm not gonna blab, and my friend is missing. That's why I'm calling you."

"What friend?"

"Her name is Stacey. She's a journalist investigating wildlife smuggling. We just got off the phone with the missing persons bureau, and they said they'd look into her disappearance, but the guy didn't exactly fill me with confidence, so I thought I'd call you, and… Is the body male or female?"

Vince cursed under his breath, and I knew it was bad news because he rarely said more than "heck."

"It's a woman. Youngish, the doctor says."

"What colour hair does she have?"

"Looks brownish red, but it's wet."

A sob burst out of me. I couldn't help it because I knew, I just knew, that Vince was looking at Stacey. My worst fears had been realised, and she'd never drop by for fruit tea and cookies again. She'd never finish her article. She'd never win another Pulitzer. Silently, Knox came to crouch beside me and wrapped me up in his arms.

"Her name is Stacey Custer." I paused to wipe away my tears, and Tango licked my knee. "Was Stacey Custer. I last spoke with her the day before yesterday, and she was going to follow up a lead on the person who posted one of those shark sightings."

"How did she find out who made the post?" Vince asked. "I took a look myself, and those accounts looked fake to me."

Rats. We hadn't considered this part.

"Uh, she didn't go into the details, but she knew one of them had a tattoo, so she was asking around in tattoo shops."

"And she found the artist?"

"No, but she ran into a woman who thought she recognised the design. Not through her work, but because a friend used to date the guy."

"Hold on a second." Vince spoke to somebody else, something about cordons and evidence and crowds. "Caro, what was the guy's name?"

"Stacey didn't say."

"The woman's name?"

"I don't know that either. We only spoke for a few minutes, and I told her…" I paused to compose myself. "I told her to be careful. Hell, I should have stopped her. I should have?—"

"We don't know for sure that it's her, not yet."

"Oh, please. How many missing redheads are there in San Gallicano? And how many were investigating people who think nothing of taking a life?"

"There's a difference between a human and a turtle, Caro."

"Tell that to Stacey."

Before I could think properly, I hung up and slapped my phone down on the table. The stupid screen cracked, and wasn't that a metaphor for my life these days?

"Are you—" Knox started.

"Don't!"

"Don't what?"

"Don't you dare ask if I'm okay. Of course I'm not freaking okay. Stacey's dead, and she was following up on a lead we gave her. If we hadn't told her about Bar Tropicana, if…if…"

If only I'd listened to Knox and talked Stacey out of going it alone. Why hadn't I? I knew firsthand how dangerous men could be. One night almost five years ago, Aiden had come within seconds of choking me. I'd passed out, had to wear a scarf for weeks to cover the bruises, and all because he thought I'd been flirting with another man. I hadn't—we'd met at a party and I'd been polite, maybe laughed at a joke he told—but Aiden saw red, and I paid the price. That was the night I'd vowed to leave, but it had taken me eleven more months to escape. I'd hoped for freedom, but in reality, I'd just traded one prison for another.

"If it is Stacey, and she was murdered, there's nobody to blame but the person who killed her."

"You didn't ask her to come to San Gallicano," Ryder added. "She'd already started her investigation before you met."

My phone rang, and it was Vince, but I couldn't pick it up. I just wanted to curl into a ball and rock.

"Want me to get it?" Knox asked, and I shrugged.

He took that to mean "yes."

"Knox Livingston speaking." A pause. "Yeah, she's a little upset. Didn't you go to sensitivity training? … Let me check." He turned to me. "Are you up to doing an interview?"

"I don't have any choice, do I?"

"There's always a choice."

"I'll speak with him."

Knox relayed the message to Vince. "She'll speak with you, but here's a tip—don't act like a cop. That's not what she needs today." Another pause, and then he asked me, "Does Stacey have family? A husband? A partner?"

"I…I don't know. She never mentioned anyone. But I think she grew up in Tennessee, or maybe Kentucky or the southwestern corner of Virginia. She said there was a pond full of Cumberland sliders near her home when she was a kid, and they have a very small range, especially compared to other turtles." I remembered what else she'd said in that initial meeting. "Stacey was the second person to investigate this story. The first guy disappeared, but in the US, I think, not here. His name was Beckham, Beckham Cheng. Stacey's friend was his roommate—actually, no, I think the roommate was a friend of her friend—and if you can find her, she'll be able to tell you much more about Stacey than I could."

Knox passed on the information, and Vince must have asked where Stacey was staying because then Knox said, "Yeah, Vista Suites."

Ryder handed me a tissue, and I realised I'd begun crying again. When Knox and I had gone to the hotel yesterday, I'd been worried, but I hadn't truly believed that Stacey was dead. Now she was gone, and it was partly my fault. If only I'd thought things through, considered the consequences?—

"Stop," Knox ordered.

"Stop what?"

"Blaming yourself. What's happened has happened, and we have to move forward, not backward. Vince is coming over. You need to tell him everything you know."

"I really don't know that much."

"Right now, you know more than anyone else on this island. And at some point, he's going to want a signed statement, which gives us a problem because you're using a borrowed name."

Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse…

"What should I do?" I whispered.

"You have two choices: come clean, or don't sign anything. I'll speak with a lawyer and see where you stand."

I began pacing, desperate to use up my nervous energy. Dead. Stacey was dead. How? Hell, I hoped it had been quick. That was my worst fear with Aiden, that if he got ahold of me, he'd draw things out. Make me suffer. He was exactly the type of man to do that. Mental torture was his thing.

"Stacey was the second person to disappear in this case?" Ryder asked. "Neither of you worried about what happened to Beckham Cheng?"

"She just said he'd disappeared, that was all."

Yes, he'd left his pet turtle behind, but he hadn't abandoned her. He'd left her with his roommate. If I left Valentine Cay, I'd have to leave Tango behind, because what sort of life would she have if I needed to keep running? Better for her to stay with Franklin, who loved her too, than to risk landing in Aiden's clutches. He'd hurt Tango to hurt me.

"But nobody ever saw him again?"

"So? People have their own reasons for walking away, and they aren't always nefarious. I should freaking know."

Franklin appeared in the doorway in his dressing gown. He'd been sick for a couple of days, and he looked terrible, but of course he wouldn't go to a doctor. No, he was drinking some weird herbal concoction Lyron had brought over, right after he came back to complain about the drone again. Not only did the herbs stink, but they didn't seem to be helping either.

"Do you want coffee?" I asked. "Tea? Something to eat?"

"Just tea."

"I'll make it. You need to go back to bed."

"There's too much to do."

"And we'll do it." I forced a smile. "Everything's under control."

Luna and Jubilee were cleaning the pool rooms and feeding turtles. Possibly out of guilt but more likely because Ryder had told them to stay the hell away from me. We weren't collecting enough turtle eggs, but I couldn't stake out beaches as well as writing the business plan, which was more important when it came to securing the sanctuary's long-term future. Local volunteers—a husband and wife—were bringing eggs from Spice Island, so at least Franklin would have some hatchlings to raise this year.

Five days until I was due to leave Valentine Cay, and my world was collapsing around my ears. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't stay awake, and I didn't know up from down. All I could do was make Franklin's tea and hope for a miracle.