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

by A J Rivers

  I didn't get any of that out of Graciela. She simply said she didn't know Rosa very well and that she heard it was an accident. She could be an exceptional actress, but I don't see any real motivation. The strongest reactions I've gotten from her are when she talks about working at the resort and how much it means to her. It doesn't fit.

  The whole thing still isn't sitting well with me.

  Alonso was upset by finding out about the death, but he also seemed very prepared to move forward from it. He immediately went into crisis intervention mode. Rather than wanting to cooperate with the police or thinking about Rosa, his mind went to how we could possibly gloss it all over and make it disappear, so the other guests of the resort weren't disrupted.

  It's an indication of a good manager, somebody who really does care about the resort where he works, and about ensuring a guest’s positive experience. But it was also smooth. Almost methodical, like this wasn't the first time he had to depend on those protocols.

  Grabbing my computer, I bring it outside onto the balcony and pull up a search. It doesn't take much digging to find the information I want. More accidents at the resort.

  The Windsor Palms Resort has only been open for a few years, according to everybody who's told me about it. Yet it's racked up quite an impressive list of incidents and unfortunate events. I go back into the room and get my notebook and pen to take notes of the reports.

  Fell on the rocks by the water. Minor head injury.

  Fell on the rocks by the water. Broken arm.

  Fell on the rocks by the water. Death.

  Fell down the stairs.

  Burned in the kitchen.

  Fell outside the lobby, cuts and bruises on her face.

  Accidental prescription medication overdose.

  Alcohol poisoning.

  Several near-drownings.

  Drowned in the ocean.

  I bring my computer back inside, change out of my bathing suit into shorts and a t-shirt, and head out of the room. A couple is getting a bit too familiar with each other right outside the elevators. I'm in no mood to stand by and watch, so I take a detour around the corner to the staircase. This is definitely the kind of place where the stairs are only used for emergencies, but there's no alarm linked to it, so I head through.

  I hear the muffled voices below too late to catch the door and keep it from shutting hard. The sound of the door echoes through the stairwell, and one of the voices hushes the other one.

  "I have to go," the other voice whispers.

  It's familiar. I move toward the bend in the flight of stairs to see if I can see anything.

  "You need to listen to me," the first voice hisses.

  There's no response, just the sound of footsteps and another door closing. I hurry down the stairs to the bottom floor, stepping out into the heavy air and darkening clouds of an oncoming storm just in time to see Graciela scurrying away down the path. And the mysterious man walking head-down in the other direction.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I want to chase after her to confront her about talking to the man again, but I don't. She's working, and if I keep pushing her, she's going to withdraw from me, so she doesn't put her job at risk. Besides, there's somewhere else I need to go. The list I made from the computer in hand, I head quickly toward the lobby. It has me trailing Graciela, but I stay far enough back that she won't notice me. Soon she veers off and heads down a narrow access path with a small sign marked for staff only. I continue past it and make my way into the main building and to the reception desk.

  Constance looks up at me from the computer and gives me her practiced, professional smile.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Griffin. Is there something I can do for you?” she asks.

  It comes out of her mouth easily and unfettered; the words distancing her far from the events of the morning.

  "Is there a manager available I can speak with for a moment?" I ask.

  Her eyebrows knit together in a troubled expression.

  “Is something wrong?” she asks. “Something I could help you with?”

  I shake my head and give her a smile to put her at ease, realizing the request threatens her carefully balanced control over the resort and the experience of the guests.

  “I just have a couple of questions I want to ask. I found a couple of things about the resort, and I just wanted to confirm them,” I tell her.

  She nods, still not looking completely convinced.

  “Alonso is… occupied right now,” she tells me, trying not to reference the continued efforts to put the resort back to normal when it is anything but. "I can call Catherine for you."

  I smile at her again.

  "That would be fine," I confirm.

  She makes the call seamlessly, not giving away any emotion or concern in her voice as she tells Catherine a guest has requested to speak with her. When she hangs up the phone, Constance looks to either side, her eyes cutting through the lobby and taking note of everyone around before leaning slightly toward me.

  "Is it true?" she asks. "Are you really… FBI?"

  "Did someone tell you that?" I raise an eyebrow.

  "It's all over the resort. People are talking about that girl's death, and they say you found her. That you're the one that took over the investigation.”

  I shake my head while trying to look as casual as I can.

  “No,” I tell her, “I didn't find her. I happened to be going to the pool when another guest found her. And, yes, I am a special agent. But it's not an investigation. You don't have to worry. There are certain protocols that need to be followed after there's a death, and since I happened to be there, I made sure they were put into place until the local police came. But I'm just a guest here.”

  She lets out a sigh, the sound seeming to release tension in her face so her mouth can curve up into a more genuine smile.

  “Good,” she says. “I wouldn't want you to come all this way only to get swept up into something awful.”

  “Not at all. The police did their investigation, and it was just a tragic accident,” I reassure her, borrowing the words I've heard so many times that morning. "Everything I did is just for propriety's sake. Red tape and all that. But, again," I hold up my hand like I'm making a declaration. "Just a guest."

  "I'm glad to hear that," Constance says. "And I hope you are having a wonderful time."

  "Absolutely. It's been incredible. In fact, I was wondering if there is any availability for next week."

  Her eyebrows lift, and she goes back to her computer. A few clicks of her fingers across the keys seem to bring up the list of reservations coming up, and she scans them briefly before nodding.

  "Yes," she says. "It looks like we have some spots available."

  "Fantastic. It is even better here than I imagined, and I don't think a week is going to be enough for me." Reaching into my pocket, I take out my wallet and hand her my credit card. "Will you go ahead and put me down for another week? You can put this card on the reservation for when the covered trip runs out."

  She's taking the card from me just as Catherine comes up to the desk. Dark hair swept up into a tight chignon on the back of her head defies humidity, and her minimal makeup enhances a serious yet warm face. She's one of those people who makes the thought go through your mind that she is pretty, but you can approach her easily. The perfect look for a woman who has the responsibility of a resort like this sitting on her shoulders.

  "Miss Griffin, I wasn't expecting to see you. Constance, you should have told me it was her." Her eyes land on the card in the concierge's hand. "Is everything alright?"

  “Yes,” I tell her quickly before Constance feels the need to do any explaining. “I'm actually extending my trip. The island is so beautiful, and I'm so impressed by everything, I don't think I can get enough out of it in just one week. So, I decided to spoil myself a little.”

  Her eyes sparkle around the edges, and I know I've gotten the effect I want.

  “That's wonderful to hear,�
�� she says. “But Constance said you wanted to speak to me.”

  “Yes,” I nod. “Is there somewhere we can talk briefly?”

  “Absolutely,” she says. “As soon as Constance is finished with your reservation, we can step into one of the experience offices.”

  “I'm finished,” Constance announces. “Thank you, Miss Griffin.”

  She hands my card back, and I slip it into my pocket. Catherine smiles and gestures for me to follow her. We cross further into the lobby and go down a hallway to a row of glass-enclosed offices that look out over the lush landscaping behind the building.

  "These offices are set aside for our experienced team to help guests plan their dream trip. If there's ever anything you want to do or that you need during your stay here, you let us know, and we will introduce you to your own personal experience coordinator, who can handle all the arrangements for you," she explains.

  “That's good to know. Thank you.”

  Rather than going to the desk near the floor-to-ceiling windows, Catherine sits in one of the plush teal chairs to the side.

  "So,” she starts, gesturing with one hand to invite me to take the other chair. “What is it that you wanted to ask about?"

  "To be honest with you, I had never even heard of this resort until I won the trip here,” I tell her as I sit down.

  Catherine's smile is soft and amused.

  "We pride ourselves on our exclusivity,” she says. “Being the only destination on the island means we are in the unique position of creating a world for our guests that is separate and distinct from anything else. We want to be an oasis. There are many guests who return over and over because of the experience they have here.”

  "Oh, absolutely," I agree. “A few people have mentioned that to me. And I can see why. It's definitely a different world here. But that made me want to know more about it. I'm just that kind of person. One thing that I was particularly impressed by was how well Alonso handled the situation this morning."

  Catherine's head lowers, and she shakes it slightly.

  "So awful."

  "Yes," I say. "And I know there was some tension initially, but the way he was able to stay in control and coordinate recovering the resort was amazing."

  "He is very good at what he does."

  "He is," I say with a smile. "Which got me thinking about it. That kind of calm and control usually doesn't just happen. It comes from experience. So, I looked into the resort, and I am curious about all the accidents."

  Catherine's face falls slightly.

  "The accidents?" she asks.

  "Yes." I offer her the list I copied down from my research. "The resort hasn't been open for very long. But it seems like there have been quite a few serious incidents since it opened."

  She scans the list.

  "How did you find this?"

  "Reports of incidents at tourist attractions have to be recorded if they require medical attention. Those reports are readily accessible if you know where to look for them."

  Her expression recovers as she hands the list back to me.

  "Then I'm sure you're aware that other resorts have similar accidents and incidents. It's just the nature of this type of destination. Water, natural environments, including rocks, and our alcoholic services. These attractions can pose risks if guests don’t use them responsibly or behave improperly. I can assure you Windsor Palms is safe and will continue to be."

  "That's all I needed to hear. Thank you."

  She smiles, and we stand up. I shake the hand she offers me.

  "If there's anything I can do for you or anything you need, please let me know."

  "I will."

  We walk out into the lobby, and she heads back to where she first appeared. I wait until she's out of sight to go to the desk again. Constance glances up at me.

  "Was there something else, Miss Griffin?" she asks. "Is there any issue with the change in your reservation?"

  "Oh, no," I tell her, shaking my head. "I'm already browsing online shops to find a wardrobe for my extra days. I just had kind of a strange question you might be able to help me with."

  "Alright," she nods. "I will help if I can."

  I glance around like I want to make sure no one else is listening and inch toward her, lowering my voice.

  "It's actually about Bellamy and Eric, the two friends who are with me."

  "Yes?"

  "Can you be discreet?"

  "Of course," she reassures me.

  "Bellamy is concerned because the two of them… got caught up in the romance and beauty of the resort. If you're following me."

  "I believe I am," she says with a slight nod.

  "Good. Apparently, it happened on the grounds. She says no one saw her but is very worried there might have been security cameras hidden somewhere and now that footage exists. With the type of world we live in today, she is concerned it's going to end up in the wrong hands and follow her."

  A knowing expression crosses Constance's face, and she nods, her eyes closing briefly before she looks at me again with a smile.

  "I completely understand, ma’am. Don't worry; I won't let on to them or to anyone else. And you can reassure her that their secret is safe. The only security cameras in use at Windsor Palms Resort are the one covering the front door, one covering the service entrance gate so we can open it when deliveries arrive, and one that covers an area of the shoreline that is in the closest proximity to other islands, to ensure if someone from one of those islands accidentally comes here, we can guide them away."

  "Oh? That's all the cameras?" I ask.

  "Yes. There has never been an issue of security here, and we are confident there never will be. That is not a problem among our clientele. Of much greater importance is privacy." She tilts her head and gives a mischievous grin. "As your friend has proven."

  I chuckle and step back from the desk.

  "Perfect. That makes me feel better, and I'm sure it will make Bellamy feel much better."

  "Anything else?"

  "No. Thank you for your help," I tell her and walk away before she can give me the regular parting speech.

  The twisting feeling in my stomach is tighter now. Talking with Catherine and Constance did give me the information I needed.

  And cemented my belief that Rosa's death was far from an accident.

  Something is happening at the resort, and I'm not willing to ignore it. I'm not looking for a murderer. But I won't turn my back when one finds me.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Rather than following the path back toward the guest rooms, I head deeper into the resort grounds. I haven't gotten far from the lobby when I see Alonso. He's already seen me, or I would do my best to avoid him. He waves as if to stop me and walks up to me quickly.

  “Hi Miss Griffin,” he starts. “I was on my way to stop by your room and check in on you to make sure you're doing all right.”

  “I'm fine,” I tell him.

  “Good. I do appreciate the help you gave this morning. Something like that is not what you expect to experience when you're on vacation,” he says.

  “I've seen far worse during many different times in my life,” I shrug. “Besides, it was an accident. Seems something like that would be far more disturbing if her death had been intentional. But she fell. It's just a sad situation.”

  He stares at me for a few seconds longer than is really necessary but finally nods.

  “It certainly is,” he says.

  He glances behind him as several young women come out of a small building with two of the attendants who helped carry the luggage when I checked in. There's another man in a suit very similar to Alonso's walking with them. He’s younger and taller than Alonso.

  “We are going down to the cabins now,” the man says to Alonso.

  Alonso reaches a hand out to him like he wants to touch his back and bring him closer to us.

  “Frederick, I'd like you to meet Emma Griffin. She is one of our guests and the woman I told you about who w
as the first one to help this morning,” he says. “Emma, this is Frederick Charles. He's the third manager at the resort, along with Catherine and myself. You haven't had a chance to meet him yet.”

  “Certainly my loss,” Frederick says smoothly. “As you can see, I've been busy training the newest members of our staff family.”

  "It's nice to meet you," I tell him.

  "The next rotation of leave begins tomorrow,” Alonso says as if he's reminding the other man.

  "Yes. Everything is ready," Frederick answers him.

  "Excellent."

  The group makes their way down the path in the opposite direction of the lobby. I hesitate, not wanting to be so obvious about falling into step right behind them, especially with Alonso looking right at me. He smiles at me as they get further down the path.

  "What are the cabins?" I ask, remembering the conversation I heard pass between him and Rosa yesterday.

  "The staff live in their own private village on the grounds. There are two dorm-style buildings as well as several individual cabins," he explains.

  "It must be nice for them to be able to live right on the grounds. That saves them a fairly significant commute," I say.

  He gives a short laugh.

  "Yes. That would be a challenge for them to do every day."

  "So, I'm assuming living in the village is a requirement for employment here? The staff isn't given the option to not live on the grounds if they don't want to?"

  "It's considered a part of the compensation," he says, something in the way he says it telling me he's not thrilled about me asking these questions. "Our staff is very important to us, so we do what we can to show them their value through their compensation and the perks of their employment."

  "It sounds like you do a good job," I say.

  He gives me a teasing look.

  "You aren't looking for a job, are you?" he asks.

  I force myself to laugh.

  "Oh, no. I'm happy where I am. Just curious. I have a couple of friends who have talked about getting out of the regular grind and finding a more exciting career. They might be perfect for something like this," I say.