by Liz Fenton
Natalie took another deep breath. “He’s a guy we met the day after we arrived. We hung out with him a lot. I was going to tell you in person.”
“You really expect me to believe that? I have to hear from the police that this guy is a suspect? That he may have taken my wife, or she may have left with him of her own free will?”
“I’m sorry. I thought I would talk to you before they did. But nothing was going on between them, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“The police seem to feel otherwise.”
“They’re just trying to find her.”
“Was my wife sleeping with this guy?”
“No!” Natalie stopped. “At least I don’t think so.”
“Do you really not remember most of the night?” Jason’s gaze bored into hers. She could see tiny flecks of gold in his gray eyes.
She bristled. “You think I’m lying?”
“You didn’t tell me about Marco, so what else aren’t you telling me?”
“I swear, I wanted to tell you when you got here.”
“And they weren’t sleeping together?”
“No,” Natalie said firmly. Even though she wasn’t completely sure.
He didn’t look convinced, but his demeanor softened. “Okay, so tell me everything you do remember. And please don’t leave anything out.”
After she was finished, he stared at her for a long time. “You just go dark right after you guys dance? Nothing else between eleven thirty last night and this morning? That’s a long chunk of memory to lose.” He gave her another look that made her stomach knot.
How could she make him understand that it was more than going dark? That it felt like part of her mind had been stolen from her. And the missing thoughts could add up to something terrible. Something chilling. Her lip quivered as she saw him watching her. Doubting her.
“I swear to you, I can’t remember.”
“I don’t know, Nat. You’re someone who can do long division in her head. Who once put together her daughter’s thousand-piece princess castle without ever looking at the directions. You’re whip-smart. It doesn’t make sense that your brain would fail you.”
She raked both of her hands through her hair, losing faith. If her own friends weren’t on her side, how could she defend herself against the police? The press? She needed to convince him. “Well, it did. It failed me. It failed Ashley!” Natalie stood up and kept her back to Jason. She took several sharp breaths, trying to calm down. Finally, she turned around. “I told you I think I was drugged. Do you think I’m lying?”
Jason sighed. “I’ve known you for a long time, Nat. You’re like a sister to me. But you have to see it from my point of view. Wouldn’t you question me if the roles were reversed? Especially if I had already withheld a piece of critical information from you?”
“Of course.” Particularly after what Ashley told me about you. She doubted Jason had told that part to the police—how he treated Ashley behind closed doors. How his behavior might have been the catalyst for her disappearance. She rubbed her arms, wondering how bad it was. Lauren had told Natalie that it wasn’t until recently, in therapy, that she’d really talked about Geoff’s abuse—in detail. Had Ashley held back when she’d told them about Jason? She stared at him, looked into his dark eyes, trying to see the man Ash had described. Tried to imagine him saying the terrible things. She could barely come to terms with what she had been told. But what if it was even worse?
Jason softened even more. “No, I don’t think you’re lying.” He paused. “But if you remembered anything else, anything at all, even a detail you don’t think matters, you would tell me, right?”
Natalie thought of the rest of the story with Marco—the way he’d touched Ashley. Them going off alone for half a day. But she shook the thought away. She had to protect Ashley. Missing or not, she was still her best friend. “I promise I will.”
“Okay.” Jason stood up. “I want to go to this Marco guy’s apartment.” He balled his hands into fists at his sides.
“He’s gone. He cleared it out.”
“But maybe the police missed something.”
“I was there this morning. There’s nothing.”
“It’s the last place we know for sure that my wife was,” he said, obviously trying to keep his voice steady.
“I know, but it won’t help going there. We should put our efforts somewhere else.” Natalie meant it, but she also didn’t want to go back.
Jason thought for a moment. “Tell me you guys got a picture of him. We can give it to the police.”
Natalie shook her head. “Marco always offered to take the pictures of us. He said he hated to have his photo taken.” Even as she said the words, she realized how naive they’d all been.
“This guy sounds like a total con artist. You really didn’t see any red flags?”
“No . . . I feel so stupid. He lied about owning Tropical Kiss, he’s Mexican but his last name was Smith, and now he’s gone. I think I was so focused on being irritated with him for invading our time that I missed everything else.” She swallowed, feeling a burn in her throat. She felt foolish for not knowing more about him. Not getting so much as a cell phone number or friending him on Facebook. Basic things she would tell her daughters to do. Maybe it had been because she hadn’t wanted to know him any more than she had to. She had considered him a barnacle on their friendship, and she had been anxious to scrape him away once they got back home, almost as if he’d never been there in the first place.
“Maybe they have a copy of his driver’s license in his employee file? Because that woman did confirm he worked there, right? He didn’t lie about that.”
“Right. I’m sure the police are working on it.” As she said it, she didn’t even know if it was true. The police were now in charge of finding Ashley. She felt like she’d lost all control.
“Well, I’m not willing to wait for them to do things on Mexico time. I know they’ve acted faster than usual—I was shocked to find out they’d already been to his apartment, dusted for prints—but I can’t leave it all up to them,” Jason said, holding his hand out to Natalie. “I’m going to find my wife. You coming?”
Natalie took his hand and let him tug her forward a bit, her body feeling heavier than it had that morning, the weight of Ashley’s fate like sandbags on her shoulders.
He looked intently in Natalie’s eyes. “I just don’t get it. It was supposed to be a girls’ trip. If nothing was going on between Ashley and him, as you claim, why hang out with this guy all week?” Jason asked, grimacing, as if he were preparing himself for the truth.
“He acted as a tour guide—took us places. Showed us local fare. That sort of thing.” It wasn’t a complete lie, she told herself as she said the words.
Jason stared at Natalie for what felt like forever. “This guy might have my wife—and we are running out of time.” He inhaled sharply and when he released his breath, his chest puffed out hard. “So you’d better not be lying to me about this.”
Natalie squeezed her eyes shut. Was this how Jason was with Ashley? Turning on a dime? The reality was, she didn’t know what the truth looked like anymore. There was so much she was unsure of. For now, she planned on keeping her mouth shut.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THE DAY AFTER
NATALIE
Natalie touched Jason’s arm tentatively. “We need to stay calm. I know it’s hard,” she said, even though she was spinning inside. “I promise you, I’ve told you everything I know for sure about Marco.” She deliberately chose words that were as close to the truth as possible.
“Well, I can’t just stand here and speculate. Let’s go to that bar you were at—see if someone remembers seeing something.” He looked at his watch. “It’s nine thirty, maybe the same crew is working?”
“Okay,” Natalie said, her limbs aching. But she knew there could be no sleep until they found Ashley. “I’ll go get Lauren.”
Natalie walked quickly to Lauren’s room and fo
und her on the patio attached to her bungalow, staring down at her phone.
“Hey,” Natalie said.
“Hi,” Lauren said, looking up. “How did it go at the hospital? You okay?”
“I don’t know. But it’s done,” Natalie said simply. She’d been examined a million times during her two pregnancies, but never like that. This time was different—emotionally invasive, tears spilling from her eyes as the reality of her situation hit her directly—that she had no idea what had happened to Ash, or herself, for that matter. There was no room to pretend any longer that everything was going to be okay.
“You sure? You want to talk about it?”
Natalie shook her head. “We’ll hopefully have the results soon.”
“I’ve been going crazy just sitting here. I feel so helpless,” Lauren said.
“I know, it’s hard. Jason just arrived. He thinks we should all go back to La Cantina—talk to people there.”
“That’s a good idea. Maybe you’ll remember more,” Lauren said. “I was just talking to Annie, and she brought up a good point.”
Natalie could only imagine what Annie had to say about this. She could be getting a very filtered account of everything since they’d arrived in Tulum and Ashley went missing. “What’s that?”
“She wondered why only you were drugged. Why not me too?”
“I don’t know. I guess you can tell Annie I was the lucky one,” Natalie said, unable to conceal her irritation.
“She’s just trying to help.”
“How is it helpful to doubt me?” Natalie asked, thinking of Jason, the police. How no one seemed to believe her.
“Maybe you only think you were drugged, but something else caused the memory loss? Or maybe there’s more to it.”
“What do you mean, more to it?”
“Annie did some research and sent me the link. The subconscious is capable of incredible things when it doesn’t want to remember something.”
“What are you saying?” Natalie pulled her head back and curled her lip, bracing herself, Lauren articulating the exact thing Natalie feared most.
“That maybe you weren’t drugged at all, but rather you’re suppressing something?”
Natalie inhaled and fought to keep her voice steady as a hot rage blazed deep inside her. It was bad enough that she was questioning herself—now Annie’s theory was basically validating it. “Okay. I’m suppressing what, exactly?” Natalie asked, staring at Lauren, refusing to blink.
“I don’t know,” she said unconvincingly.
“I think you do—why don’t you just say it?”
“It’s just a theory. I don’t have a clue what you would be suppressing. Only you would know what’s in there.” Lauren pointed to Natalie’s head. “What did you tell the police?”
Natalie clenched her jaw. “Exactly what I’ve told you and everyone since I woke up. I. Cannot. Remember. I. Think. I. Was. Drugged.”
Lauren jerked her head back as if Natalie had slapped her.
“What did you tell the police, Lauren? Did you share your theories about me? Did you tell them your new bestie, Annie, is an amateur sleuth and wants to come work on the case?” Natalie shot, her cheeks burning. “Did you also include how you told Ash to fuck off when she asked to leave with you?”
Lauren flinched. “As a matter of fact I did. But also, so did you. Why?”
“Because they asked why you didn’t go with us. I wasn’t going to lie.”
“Or maybe you’re lying now. Maybe you told them because you do blame me.”
“I don’t blame you any more than I blame myself.” The reality was that there was more than enough blame to go around—Lauren for not agreeing to leave with them, and Natalie, well, she wasn’t quite sure what to blame herself for yet. And that was the hardest part.
Lauren’s face softened. “Look, you have to understand how helpless I feel here. You’re the only one with the answers, but you can’t access them. And the rest of us are playing guessing games. Don’t blame Annie for trying to help.”
“I don’t even know this person!”
“She’s been a good friend to me.”
“Because I wasn’t? Because Ashley wasn’t?”
“No . . .”
“Did it ever occur to you that she probably doesn’t trust me because of all the bad things you’ve said about me?”
“I haven’t—”
“Oh, come on, now is not the time to lie.”
“Fine, I told her what happened with all of us. But I was honest about my part in it too.”
Natalie scoffed. “Helping is one thing. Accusing is entirely another.”
She took the wooden stairs down to the beach two at a time, wishing she could run as far away from this hotel as possible. That she could be back at her house, lying between her two daughters on the couch watching old episodes of America’s Next Top Model, the way she had the night before coming here. Before her entire life broke open.
“Where’s Lauren?” Jason asked when she found him waiting in the lobby.
“She’s not coming.”
“Everything okay between you two?”
“No, everything’s not okay. With us or with this.” She flailed her hands toward the hotel. “And I worry it won’t be for a long time—if ever.”
Jason shook his head. “No,” he said firmly, and Maria looked up from the front desk.
Natalie gave him an incredulous stare and pulled him aside. “No what?”
“You do not get to talk like that. I won’t let you. So stop it right now. We are going to find Ashley,” Jason said evenly, but Natalie could see the anger behind his eyes. She wondered if he was about to snap. Was this the razor-sharp temper Ashley had been talking about? She backed off immediately, not wanting to find out.
“Okay, you’re right,” Natalie said, following him out to the street, where he flagged down a cab. They rode in silence, Natalie still seething at Lauren, upset with Jason, watching the tourists on bikes navigating the same bumpy roads she and Ashley and Lauren had traveled on their first morning, wishing like hell she could go back in time. A rage started to rise in her belly, the intensity of it surprising her.
And reminding her she’d felt a similar anger last night. Only it had been at Ashley.
Natalie sat perfectly still, willing the memory to settle as a sliver of cold sliced through her. She heard her own voice.
You are more selfish than I ever realized.
The scalding words burned in her mind. She had been furious. Then Ashley’s voice rang in her head.
What’s wrong with you?
She remembered tears. But not of sadness, like the ones she’d shed at the clinic or when Ben called. These tears had been sharp and bitter. Natalie had felt like one of those wind-up toys that had been cranked as tight as it could go, then released, running straight into a wall, still moving until the energy depleted. She steadied her breathing and tried to lean back into the memory, but it was gone, the ire fading slightly but still there, like a picked scab. Her heart thundered inside her. What did these snippets of memories mean? If they all lined up would they provide the answer to where Ashley was or only lead to more questions? She tried to calm her breathing, to steady her racing mind. She was starting to remember; she was sure of that. But she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to, because there was a thought that kept creeping back into her subconscious.
That once she got her memory back, she was going to beg to forget it all over again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE NIGHT
NATALIE
Ashley leaned over the dirty bathroom sink toward the mirror, painting her lips with red gloss, then rubbing them together. She inched to the right to make room for Natalie, reaching over and wiping a smudge of eyeliner off her cheekbone.
Natalie teetered slightly as she pulled a paper towel from the dispenser.
“How many shots did you do with Lauren?” Ashley teased as she turned back to the mirror and ran her hand through
her hair.
“One,” Natalie said, slightly annoyed. If you’d been hanging out with us, you would have known.
“Excuse me.” Natalie and Ashley turned at the sound of a woman’s voice behind them. “I thought that was you. Carrie, come here, I told you it was them.” A petite woman with sunburned cheeks and a tank top to match beckoned her friend. “We just love you guys,” the woman continued. “I’m Diane and this is Carrie, and we are such huge fans. I mean, you wouldn’t know it right now by the looks of it.” She reached up and touched her reddish-brown hair twisted into a messy topknot. “But the BloBrush is my favorite beauty product. I have three of them!”
“I have two,” Carrie said shyly, taking a few strands of her long blond hair between her fingers.
“Thank you,” Natalie said, hoping she wasn’t slurring her words, turning back toward the mirror, a flush creeping across her cheeks. It was embarrassing to be recognized, especially while drinking.
“You guys are so cute. Let’s take a selfie!” Ashley interjected, and Natalie relaxed. She didn’t enjoy these interactions. Ashley was better at handling them.
“Or I could take it of you guys,” Natalie offered, not feeling like being tagged in yet another unflattering picture.
“No, let’s do a selfie—it’s more fun,” Ashley said, and they all wedged in, Ashley holding her arm out expertly, then handing the phone back.
“This is so cute. I’m going to put it on Insta!” Diane said to Ashley as she studied the photo. Natalie looked away and rolled her eyes.
“We love your YouTube videos. The most recent one was so fun,” Carrie said. “That thing you did with the green screen. That was a green screen, right?”
“Yes,” Ashley said, smiling proudly. “That’s how we made it look like we were surfing while BloBrushing our hair.” She laughed. “It’s one of our faves too.”
“You guys are social media geniuses!” Diane pulled up something on her phone and turned it toward Ashley and Natalie. It was their Instagram page. “You have 800,000 followers! Amazing.”
