by A J Rivers
“Then what was that nonsense about suggesting I go to what is apparently the most dangerous place on the island? You were going to send me up there, hoping I would get hurt and wouldn't be able to talk about what I was uncovering?” I say.
Alonso shakes his head, looking down at his lap.
“No,” he says. “I know Cascada Esmeraldas well. Yes, it can be dangerous for those who don't know the area. But it's also the most beautiful place on the island. I wanted you to ask for directions on how to get there because I was going to meet you up there once Joshua gave you the directions.”
I'm not sure how to process what he just said.
“Why?” I finally ask.
His eyes lift to me.
“Because I'm interested in you, Emma. I didn't know how to approach you. I thought if you went to the falls and I was there, we could spend some time alone together. I could show you around and tell you the stories of the island. We could get to know each other better,” he says.
“The stories of the islands,” I say under my breath as thoughts streaming through my mind drag my focus away.
“What?” he asks.
My eyes snap to him.
“Frederick was giving the new staff the tour of the resort. Is he the contact with the staffing company?"
Alonso nods. "Yes."
"Who puts the menus under the door every morning?"
"Paul. That's just one of his responsibilities. He helps with luggage, does deliveries, escorts the female staff, generally whatever is needed."
"And is he the one who delivered medicine to Emmanuel’s room after he’d died?"
Alonso shakes his head.
"I’m not sure.”
“It must have been him. According to Constance, Paul is the only one allowed to deliver to Emmanuel’s room.”
Alonso cocks his head curiously and frowns. “What are you talking about? We’ve never had a rule like that. Maybe if you ask who was on duty yesterday.”
"Constance told Bellamy, Catherine gave her the instructions," I tell him.
"Catherine?" he asks.
"Crap." I cover my eyes with my hand and shake my head. When I take my hand down, I look intensely into his eyes. "You need to listen to me carefully because I am doing everything I can right now to see the humanity in you and give you the benefit of the doubt. It is not easy and trust me when I tell you if you take even the slightest step out of line, I will make you wish to be dipped into the general population. And be assured that is not a threat; it is a disclaimer."
"What do you need?" Alonso asks.
"I need to figure out how they are pulling this off, and you're going to help me. If you do, I'll think about what I'm going to do about your role in everything. You don't want to go down for human trafficking. Running drugs is not worth lives, and whatever it is you get out of being a part of this, it's not worth the risk."
"I'll help you."
I nod.
"How quickly does Frederick process girls? When he finds one he wants, how long does it take him to get her here and put her on leave?" I ask.
"I've seen him get an application and have the girl here by the next day," he says. "He always says it is because of her ‘unique offerings’."
"She's a special request," I say, remembering the wording on the expense reports. "So, if I was able to ensure that a specific girl applied for a position here and fit the description for a very wealthy VIP client, you think he would be willing to expedite her getting to the island?"
"That's possible," Alonso said.
"What if she is already a guest here? Has he ever hired someone right off the island?"
"Yes. There have been a few occasions when he offered an on-the-spot position after he was particularly impressed by a girl he saw at the pool or on the beach."
"Or after a high roller put in a request," I say. "Let's see how loud money talks."
"What do you need me to do?" Alonso asks.
"Get me an application for the staffing company. Make sure it will go to Frederick so he will hire her. When a reservation comes in for Sam Johnson, talk him up. Make him seem extremely important and powerful. Someone Frederick would want to have on his list of VIP guests."
"I can do that. What else?"
"Keep your mouth shut. Go about everything like normal. Don't say a word about Rosa. Don't say a word about Emmanuel. Cooperate with the police, no matter what they say about his death. And tell me where to find Joshua."
By the time my new phone is delivered to my room, Alonso is gone. I call Sam, and as much as I want to listen to him tell me how much he misses me and what he's been doing, I have to stop him. Staying as calm as I can, I tell him everything that's happened and what I figured out. When I get to the part about Alonso leaving, he makes a sound that is almost unapproving.
“What?” I ask.
“Are you sure you can trust him? You just let him walk out?”
“I had to,” I explain. “When it comes right down to it, the choice is between saving those women and knocking him on his ass for the drugs. Women will win every single time. If I ever have to choose between shutting down a drug trafficking or a human trafficking ring, the drugs aren't even going to register. I'll deal with that when I know those six women are safe.”
“What do you need me to do?” he asks.
“Remember how I was uncomfortable with Greg leaving me his money and his life insurance?”
“Of course,” he says.
“I found a good way to use it. We're going to have to cut our Christmas vacation a little short this year. You have a plane ticket in your email right now. I'm sending you contact information for the resort and exactly what you need to say. You'll be speaking directly to Constance to make your reservation. Be sure to emphasize that the resort comes highly recommended for your particular taste and that you have a specific special request you want to be fulfilled. Say you are interested in having strawberries and cream in the cabins and are willing to pay a premium to ensure you get the juiciest one.”
My stomach turns, and I nearly gag just saying the words. I'm thankful he doesn't have me repeat them. The combination of the words used to describe the women on the expense reports and the code Alonso told me is used when making the drug transactions should be enough to put Constance at ease.
“You have no idea how hard it's going to be for me to be at that resort and not be able to talk to you,” he says. “As soon as I see you, I'm going to want to scoop you into my arms and take you away somewhere where no one will be able to find us for a few days.”
“I already extended my vacation here,” I tell him. “But after two murders and the revelation of a drug and human trafficking ring, I highly doubt that reservation’s going to be honored. But maybe we can find somewhere else when this is all done.”
“Or we can just have a staycation at home,” he offers.
“Deal, as long as you never use the word staycation again.”
He gives a soft laugh, the strained kind of chuckle that comes from knowing the situation around us is brutal, and we have to search for any shred of humor to get us through.
“I love you, Emma,” he says.
“I love you, too, Sam. Be careful.”
We get off the phone, and I wipe a tear from my cheek before turning to Eric.
“Did you get her?” I ask as he hangs up his phone.
He nods. “Mallory Harding. From the Miami Bureau office. Five-foot two, red hair, petite and delicate. She'll be here tonight."
"Perfect. So will Sam."
"What are you going to do now?" Eric asks.
"I need to talk to Joshua."
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Tell me again about the princess we could call Cascada.”
The old man sits outside the small shack built outside the staff village. When I first arrived, he explained he is the only member of the staff of the resort who does not live on the island full time. He barely even considers himself an actual employee of the resort.
Instead, he feels like he works for the island. His responsibility is to bring people from the tiny private airport to the resort and back, but he takes it on as his duty to protect the island he loves.
Joshua takes a bite of the fruit cut into a bowl in his lap and lifts his eyes to me.
“This is about the man who died,” he notes.
“Yes,” I say.
“The ocean spirit is angry,” he says. “He loved that girl the way the princess was loved.”
“Joshua, I researched the islands. I can't find anything about why that area is protected. I see that a long time ago, it was considered a historic area, but I can't find anything about actual environmental protections being in place, or what that sanctuary should be for. What else could be protected there?”
He shakes his head. “I don't know. I don't go over there.”
“Because of the ocean spirits?”
“Because it's dangerous,” he shrugs.
“Tell me about the princess again,” I say. “You mentioned grottos.”
“Yes,” he says. “She and her love reunited in the grottos and will live out their eternity there together.”
“But the angry ocean spirit can't, right? That's what you told me?” I ask.
“She's kept from them,” he says.
“Joshua, are the grottos real?”
I try to say the words carefully, not wanting to offend him but needing to make sure there was a difference between the legend and reality. I like listening to his stories, but right now, I need the truth.
“Yes,” he says.
“Real like they could be on a map of the island?” I ask.
“Miss Griffin, just because a story may be hard to believe, doesn't make it any less true. Stories are passed down for generations. They turn from stories into lessons. Ways of explaining the world to make things easier. Maybe the original meaning is lost. But a story about the lovers living together in eternity while the jealous one suffers makes the world easier to live in, do you understand?”
“I do,” I tell him.
He nods. “Good. Yes, the grottos are real. But they are extremely difficult to get to. Cascada is believed to be in one because when she jumped into her falls, her body was never recovered.”
"Have you ever shown anyone how to get to the grottos?"
"No. I've never been there myself. But the old folks of my time used to say anyone brave enough to find them could live their entire lives in them."
"So, it's not a small place?"
"No."
"Thank you, Joshua."
I spend the rest of the afternoon researching the island. There isn't as much about it as I would like for there to be. Because it is a private island, and apparently has been for quite some time, extensive mapping is limited. What needs to be done is something that can only be done once, so I need to be absolutely sure I'm right.
I'm packing my supply pack in my room that evening when Alonso appears at my door again. I'm almost uncomfortable now that I know about his attraction to me, but he only lets his eyes linger on me for a second before we go inside.
“I just wanted to let you know Frederick has already seen Agent Harding and has taken notice of her,” he says. “She will be in room 312.”
“Good,” I nod. “Was Sam able to get a reservation without a problem?”
“I spoke to him briefly, and he said that there was some resistance until he used the words you told him to use, then Constance happily gave him a room.”
I nod, feeling uncomfortable about having to connect Sam and Alonso to handle the details of what I'm planning. As much as I hate it, I need to stay as distant from Sam as possible until this is done. I can't afford for anybody to know we're connected, and he needs to work closely with Alonso to ensure he does and says everything he needs to in order to fit the narrative. I keep telling myself this won't be forever. It will be over soon enough.
“When will he put in the request?”
“Soon,” Alonso says. “We agreed he would add urgency to the request by saying how lonely he is to be here at night alone. Then he will describe his ideal girl and offer a premium to have that description fulfilled.” He looks at his watch. “Bellamy is down by the pool by now. Are you sure about this?”
“Yes,” I tell him. “Just keep them away as long as you can.”
“I will do my best,” he promises. Tossing my bag onto my back, I give him a single nod and move quickly out of my room. Pain still echoes through my body, but I force it down and ignore it. I managed to get into Emmanuel's room; I can do this. I have to do this. There's no choice. This is my one chance, the one opportunity I have to save six women.
Joshua's boat bobs at the edge of the water. I asked him not to bring it up to the dock, but to leave it near the pier at the bottom of the rocks where it would stay safe, but where nobody would see me disembark. I need to be as invisible as I possibly can.
This boat is much smaller and older than the one I rented from the resort, so it takes longer to drive out into the water and make the large curve that will keep me out of sight. The water is smooth and clear, almost eerily calm despite the hammering in my heart.
I make my way to the outcropping of rocks and the strange sanctuary sign that seems to mean nothing. The oxygen tank I saw on the rocks the first time I was there is gone. It tells me exactly what I needed to know. I anchor the boat to a nearby rock and bring the engine to a stop.
Kicking off my shoes, I peel away my clothes and change quickly into my wetsuit. Bracing myself and putting all my trust in my instincts, I stand up. The small boat rocks and moves under my feet, but I'm able to gain enough purchase to gather myself and take a deep breath.
I lower my mask and snorkel over my face and plunge down into the water.
My eyes open. Everything around me is dark. I turn on the flashlight strapped to my arm. The waterproof device came right out of Alonso's emergency supply kit and creates what feels like a protective glow around me.
It takes only a matter of seconds for me to see the gap in the rock wall in front of me. The water moving over it causes the waves to jump up and spray more aggressively than they would without the gap. A shock of trepidation goes through my chest, but I don't hesitate.
I kick as hard as I can, propelling myself down toward the gap, and squeeze through. Panic is starting to set in slightly. Even though I know I'm safe, fear is pressing in around me, making me want to take a breath. I feel desperate to rise up to the surface. But I can't. I’m surrounded on all sides by rocks. I’m too deep now to come up for air. There’s no way out but forward.
I follow the hazy beam of light through the underground tunnel for what seems like forever, pushing and straining every muscle to try to get through. My lungs are burning. My heart is racing. But I have to keep going. Those women are depending on me.
And then the pressure is suddenly gone. The rocks give way, and I shoot upward to the surface. My lungs fill joyfully, desperate for every tiny amount of oxygen I can give them. I rip the snorkel out of my mouth and take a few deep breaths as I drift toward an edge.
The flashlight reveals what I’d expected: I'm in an underground chamber with water filling the bottom and a towering ceiling. I swim over to the edge and climb out. I look around every which way, but there’s only one place to go. Ahead of me is a natural tunnel. I shine my light into it to make sure there's nothing in my way before continuing through. Down here is colder, and I shiver, goosebumps rippling up through my skin.
Finally, I step out into another chamber. This one is more like a cave, the water creating just a small pool in the center. All around it are rock formations. I don't need my flashlight here. Enough glow comes from the oil lamps hanging from hooks in the stone walls. That same glow touches on the terrified faces of women chained to the stones.
They look dazed, not fully aware of what's going on. But Graciela lifts her head, and her eyes hit me. For a second, it seems like she doesn't recognize me like she doesn't actually believe
I'm there. Then her eyes widen.
“Miss Griffin,” she whispers.
“Emma,” I tell her. “Don't worry. I'm here.”
“I am so happy to see you,” she gasps. “I don't know what's happening. I don't know how I got here.”
“Graciela, listen to me. I’m with the FBI. I’m investigating what’s going on at the resort. I'll explain everything to you later,” I tell her. “But right now, we need to focus on getting all of you out. Where's the key to your chains?”
“He keeps it with him,” Graciela says.
“Who? Frederick?” I ask.
“Yes,” she nods. “He brought us down here.”
“Did he take you from the village?”
“No. It was Paul.”
“Paul took you?”
She nods weakly. “Paul is their muscle. He took all of us. He is the one working with Frederick.”
“And he’s the one who supposedly delivered medicine to Emmanuel’s room,” I mutter.
I look around to the other terrified faces and sigh deeply.
“I am so sorry to have to do this to you,” I say. “But I am going to have to leave you here and be right back.”
“No,” she pleads desperately. “I can't be down here anymore.”
“I can't get you out of your chains,” I say. “You have to trust me. I will send someone back for you as soon as I can. I promise.”
“You aren't going to come back?” she asks.
“There's something I need to do. But I promise I'll see you soon. A team of FBI agents is coming to get you out of here, I promise. It won't be much longer. Then you'll never have to face any of this again.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
I wish I had taken the time to blow dry my hair. It hangs cold and still damp against my back. My hair has always been so thick it clings to water and stays wet for hours if I don't dry it. Now it presses between the soft cushion of the chair and my shirt, the cold wetness seeping through and sending chills down my legs. But I don't move from where I'm sitting. The back of my chair is to the hotel room door, and I stare out into the darkness beyond the balcony.
