The Girl in Dangerous Waters (Emma Griffin FBI Mystery Book 8)

by A J Rivers

  "Absolutely not. Phones do not exist on the island," she says.

  "There's a horror movie tagline for you," I mutter under my breath.

  "They most certainly do exist," Eric counters, pulling his phone out from under her hand and holding it up to her. "As evidenced here."

  "Let me rephrase. We aren't using our phones while we’re on vacation." She puts her arms around both our shoulders to start steering us down the path toward the opposite end of the building. "We are here for relaxation and to enjoy the splendors of nature."

  "So, let's go take a dip in a cement hole full of highly chlorinated water," he comments.

  We pause, and she turns scolding eyes toward him.

  "I'm going to have to ask you to drop your attitude," she says calmly. "Windsor Island is a happy place, and we don't take shit like that around here."

  I'm laughing so hard I almost don't notice how hard the sun is making my eyes squint. Realizing my sunglasses aren't on top of my head, I turn back.

  "Meet me there. I forgot my sunglasses."

  Bellamy waves, and they continue on their way as I jog back to the door. Just before going inside, I glance back to them and notice Eric subtly sway to the side, bumping her with his shoulder and hip. Bellamy giggles, and the little bit of suspicion in the back of my mind grows.

  The quick clandestine text I'm sending Sam to let him know about Bellamy's communication embargo distracts me enough that I'm almost around the corner to the elevators before I notice the voices. I stop when the distinct feeling that I'm not supposed to overhear the conversation settles into my stomach. Stepping closer to the wall, I listen.

  “Mr. Coltrane has requested cabin three tonight,” a voice I recognize says in a tone just slightly lower than a normal conversational volume. “Please make sure it's ready for him.”

  “Yes, sir,” a young woman's voice replies.

  "And Rosa, be sure you are punctual this time. Mr. Coltrane is an important client with very high expectations. See to it they are satisfied when he arrives."

  "Yes, sir."

  I hurry back to the door and pretend like I'm just walking in as a man turns the corner from the elevators. He's looking down straightening the cuff of one sleeve, but I recognize him as Alonso, the manager who greeted us at the door. We're almost meeting in the middle of the space when he looks up and flashes me a grin.

  "Miss Griffin," he says. "I see you've settled in. Is everything to your satisfaction?"

  "Everything is very nice," I tell him. "My friends and I are just getting ready to take a swim, but I forgot my sunglasses in my bag."

  "You wouldn't want that. The island sun can get very intense."

  We standoff for a still second before I step around him.

  "Well, they're waiting for me, so I better hurry."

  "Enjoy your swim, Miss Griffin. And if there is anything I can do for you, please let me know."

  I'm strangely relieved when the elevator doors close, and the floor begins to lift.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “It sounds like they're just trying to be really attentive and offer exceptional customer service,” Sam offers later after I tell him about the encounter with the manager.

  I'm sitting amidst a cloud of bubbles in the deepest bathtub I've ever seen, soaking away the chlorine and thick coating of sunscreen from the afternoon by the pool.

  “That's probably exactly what it is,” I agree. “There's just something strange about everybody I talk to saying the same thing. But it's even different coming from him. It's almost like he's waiting for me to want something. Does that make sense? Like he's expecting me to ask for something.”

  “That's his job,” Sam points out. “He's the manager of the hotel. He's supposed to find out if guests want something and then figure out how to make it happen.”

  I let out a sigh that ruffles the pile of bubbles in front of me.

  “You're right,” I say. “I'm just still on edge. It's really gorgeous here. You should see Bellamy. She is in her element. We might have found her natural habitat.”

  Sam laughs.

  “What's it like there?”

  “A Barbie playset,” I tell him. He laughs again. “I'm serious. It's perfect. Everything is perfect. Exactly what comes to mind when you think of ‘tropical paradise,’ that's it. The resort is the only thing on the island. We talked to a few of the other guests, and they said the rest of the island is just hiking trails and waterfalls. There are some gazebos around to relax in, and a couple of greenhouses of local flowers, fruits, and vegetables that are actually used for the meals served here. The only people who live on the island are the ones who work at the resort, and they have their own little village on the grounds. It's beautiful. Everything is beautiful. The resort, the plants, the people.”

  “Why do I feel like you don't necessarily mean that in a good way?” he asks.

  “It's the people,” I say. “Don't get me wrong, some of the other guests we spoke to were really nice. A couple of them say they have been coming here for the last couple of years, ever since it opened. but there are others who… aren't exactly my idea of pleasant. I'll put it that way. They are all young and beautiful and obviously extremely wealthy and used to all the perks that come along with that. The housekeeper taking care of my room even mentioned that some of them are really awful to the staff."

  "That's not good," Sam says. Even through the phone, I can hear his furrowed brow and frown.

  "No, it's not," I agree. "But she's a sweetheart. Everybody who works here seems to be great. They all bend over backwards to make sure things are exactly the way we expect them to be. It might be a little much for me, but I can see how a lot of people would just lap it up."

  "Like Bellamy?" he asks.

  "Exactly," I laugh. "She draped out by that pool like the sun was feeding her."

  "And you?" he asks.

  "The sun does not feed me. I floated around in my thick candy coating of sunscreen and ate the fruit out of all the cocktails the waiters brought to all three of us."

  "That's my girl. But I meant, are you having fun?"

  "Getting there. I haven't been in a pool in a while, so that was nice. Maybe I just need to get into the groove. Figure out what relaxing and having fun are again," I tell him.

  "Stick with Bellamy. She'll remind you," Sam suggests.

  "She probably has the entire week planned out already. Speaking of which, she's probably waiting for me. We're going down to the lobby for dinner. And you know I'm not supposed to be on the phone," I tell him.

  "I like sneaking around talking to you. It's like we're teenagers hiding under the covers, so our parents don't know we're still up," he teases.

  "I will hide under the covers with you any day."

  "That's the plan for when you get home. I miss you."

  "Miss you, too."

  I'm off the phone, dressed, and downstairs in record time, but Bellamy is still waiting for me with an impatient expression on her face. She's ready for the evening with fresh makeup, styled hair, and a dress that accentuates her long figure.

  “Where were you?” she asks.

  “Did you get the room with the time converter or something?” I ask. “How can you possibly be that put together in that amount of time?” I hold up my hand to stop her before she answers. "Never mind. You're an efficient vacationer. Where's Eric?"

  "Taking his sweet time too," she answers.

  Her eyes shift to the side, and I follow them to notice two guys a few years younger than us looking back over their shoulders at her as they walk past. Just as they are out of sight, a man a bit older comes down the path and makes no qualms about looking Bellamy up and down before continuing.

  "How does that feel?" I ask.

  "What do you mean?" she asks.

  "Knowing all you have to do is stand, and men will fall over themselves for you," I answer.

  She rolls her eyes.

  "Emma, you're gorgeous, and you know it. You see the way Sam lo
oks at you."

  "I do, that's not what I'm talking about, though. In a span of about fourteen seconds, you had three men drooling over you, and you're standing there with resting sea witch face because Eric is late."

  "You're just noticing it because it's a condensed environment. A lot more guys around than usual," she argues.

  I glance around at the people milling around the resort, some head to the lobby for dinner and others make their way back toward the guest rooms or down onto the sand.

  "There do seem to be a lot of guys here. I've been noticing that."

  Bellamy shrugs.

  "It's an island. If girls are running around low on both inhibitions and clothing, the men will flock." She looks back to the building and throws her hands up. "There he is. Come on; I'm starving."

  In the middle of the night, I wake up with my heart pounding hard enough in my chest for me to feel the reverberations to the tips of my toes and through the top of my head. My throat feels dry, and my bottom lip stings where I've bitten down into it. My eyes flick frantically around the room, trying to make sense out of the shapes in the darkness. Shadows stretch and condense, molding and morphing into monsters and nothingness. Finally, my brain snaps the rest of the way into consciousness, and I drop back down into the pillow.

  My nightmares have followed me.

  I try to close my eyes and will myself back to sleep, but every nerve and fiber of my being is crackling with alertness. I toss and turn and pull the pillow over my head, but it’s no use. Finally, I get up and slip into the white satin robe hanging from the back of the bathroom door.

  Crossing the room to the balcony, I do the trick Graciela taught me and step out into the cooler night air. The humidity is gone, and the breeze that carries the scent of night-blooming flowers and ripening fruit is soft against my skin. I lean against the banister and look out over the grounds of the resort below.

  My room has a beautiful view of the ocean. I watch the waves shift back and forth under the moonlight for a few moments before my attention is drawn down to the people still roaming around. It's well past midnight, but they don't seem to notice. Couples cozied up close to each other walk along the brick path and down the grassy slope into the sand. Solitary men walk faster, their strides more driven and determined. Some head in the direction of the lobby, and others walk away from the guest building, perhaps toward the pool.

  I'm about to go back inside for a drink when I see someone rush out of the shadows near the building. Even from a distance, I can see it's Graciela. A second later, a man follows her and reaches out to put his hand on her shoulder. She turns to him, and he steps up close. I think he's going to kiss her, but instead, they share a few close exchanges before she rushes away. The man, who isn't dressed like a member of the staff, but rather a guest at the resort, puts his hands on his hips and hangs his head for a few seconds before walking swiftly away.

  Thinking over the exchange, I go back into my room and pour myself a glass of the fresh fruit juice I found in the tiny refrigerator after checking in. A little note attached to the pitcher invited me to enjoy the juice of the local fruit harvested right on the grounds of the resort and promised new flavors each day.

  I bring the juice along with a lightweight blanket from the foot of the bed and my book back out onto the balcony, curl up on the chaise lounge, and stare out over the ocean to wait for sunrise.

  Chapter Fourteen

  At some point during the wee hours of the morning, I managed to drift back off to sleep. I wake up to the sound of birds calling and waves crashing on the beach below. The fresh air fills my lungs as I stretch out down the length of the chaise lounge and look up at a morning sky just starting to turn blue. There is precisely one cloud on the horizon, big and puffy, and the rest is bright and clear. Sunny skies indeed.

  Through the open balcony door, I hear something in my room, and when I look back through the glass, I see Graciela slip quietly inside. She has her head down as she tucks the key card into the pocket of her apron and quickly moves her hand to support the tray she's balancing on her opposite forearm.

  “You're here early,” I note, standing up from the chaise lounge and stepping into the doorway.

  She startles and grabs onto the new pitcher of juice to prevent it from toppling off the tray.

  “Oh,” she exclaims. “You're up.”

  “I'm sorry,” I say. “I didn't mean to surprise you... again.”

  “It's fine,” she says. “I should expect you to be in your own room. I just didn't think you would be up this early.”

  “I didn't think you would be coming in this early,” I tell her. “How do you clean rooms when people are still asleep?”

  She smiles.

  “I don't start cleaning the rooms until later,” she explains. “This early, I just come by to leave your juice and pick up any dishes from the night before.” She settles the tray down onto a nearby table. “But I'm not the earliest one to come by.”

  She reaches down and scoops something up off the floor, holding it out to me.

  “What's that?” I ask, walking toward her to take it.

  “The menu for the day,” she says. “A new one is slipped under your door every morning, so you know whether you want to go to the lobby or order in.”

  I look down at the paper, scanning my options. “That's nice.”

  She looks around me to the open balcony door.

  “Did you sleep outside last night?” she asks.

  I glanced over and laugh.

  “Technically, I guess I did. But not on purpose. I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't go back to sleep, so I just went out there to get some air. Apparently, that's exactly what I needed to go back to sleep.”

  “The fresh air is good for you,” she comments. “I've always loved ocean air.”

  “Is that why you were taking a walk with that gentleman last night?” I ask, lifting my eyes curiously.

  Graciela gives me a curious look as she pours a glass of juice and offers it out to me.

  “What gentleman?” she asks.

  “When I was out on the balcony, I looked down and noticed you talking with somebody. You kind of rushed off away from him but you were definitely in a conversation.”

  She shakes her head. “I wasn't out last night. I had a headache after finishing my duties for the day and went back to my room without even eating dinner. That's where I was right up until I left for work this morning.”

  “Are you sure?” I frown. “It really looked like you.”

  “No,” she says. “It must have been someone else. What did the man look like?”

  “He was dressed nicely. Tall. Dark skin, short hair,” I describe. “It was late, so I couldn't really see a lot of features.”

  "You said dressed nicely. So, he wasn't wearing a uniform like a member of the staff?" she asks.

  "No," I say. "He was dressed like one of the guests."

  "Oh," she shrugs, smiling and shaking her head as she heads into the bedroom. "No. Staff members are all required to wear their uniform any time we’re on resort grounds other than in the staff village."

  "So, maybe it wasn't a member of the staff."

  "A guest?" she asks, sounding almost shocked by the suggestion, then starts moving pillows to the side so she can strip the bed. "Definitely not. Staff and guests aren't allowed to— socialize— after hours."

  It’s a delicate way of saying ‘hands off’.

  I'm not convinced. I'm sure it was her I saw walking on the path in the middle of the night, but she's obviously not going to admit to it. If personal relationships with the guests are against the rules, she might be reluctant to let on. I decide to drop it but am still curious about the policies.

  "What would happen if a member of the staff did socialize with a guest?" I ask, remembering the other couplings I saw last night and wondering if any of them could have been sneaking around.

  "Biggest rule you can break. You’d get fired right away," she says ad
amantly. "Of course, nothing would happen to the guest. Nothing ever can happen to the guests."

  "And you strike me as not wanting to risk that," I say with a smile.

  She yanks the sheets off the bed and balls them up before tossing them aside.

  "Definitely not. Getting this job has been a dream," she tells me. "I have three brothers and four sisters back home. My mother always told me I shouldn't settle for anything, that I should always push for my dreams. When I first found out about the opportunity here, I didn't know if I wanted to do it because it would mean leaving my family. Coming all the way out here where I didn't know anyone and couldn't help around the house didn't seem right. But then Mama reminded me my life was mine. That I needed to do what was right for me. Going after this would show my siblings that we weren't defined by anything, and we didn't have to let anything stop us. The whole world is out there, and all we have to do is be willing to chase it."

  "That's amazing," I say. "How did you find out about this place?"

  "They were advertising, looking for new staff. They offered room and board, activities, benefits, and still excellent pay for me to send money home to my family. I applied and within just a couple of days, did an interview over the computer, was hired, and they whisked me off to here. It was all such a whirlwind I barely felt like I could catch my breath."

  "And you've enjoyed working here?" I ask.

  "It's been wonderful, for the most part."

  "You mean other than the obnoxious guests?" I ask.

  She looks over her shoulder at me and smiles.

  "Other than that," she confirms. "It really has been, though. Windsor Island is so beautiful. On my days off, I explore with some of the other girls. There's always something new to find, something we haven't seen. Some of the people who work here come from other nearby islands, and they tell us stories. Everything is taken care of for me, and Mr. Windsor treats us well. It's not easy work, I won't say that, but for everything I get out of it, it is absolutely worth it."