“He promised my stepsister he’d check in. It’s been two and a half weeks.”
Benita frowned. “What’s your plan?”
“Visit the local police. See if they know anything.”
“Then?”
Cassidy sighed. “Check the bars and the back streets.”
“You packing?” Benita asked, her eyebrows arched.
“No,” Cassidy huffed.
“We’ll get Libby to go along. That girl can kick the shit out of just about anyone. She has this primal yell. Good God, it’ll turn your blood to ice.”
Cassidy fidgeted with her pencil. “You guys don’t have to—”
“Forget it, okay?” Benita lowered the ukulele. “What did I tell you that first day? Us surf sisters have to stick together. And besides, what else are we going to do all day in San Juan? Sit around and drink margaritas? I mean, I’m looking forward to spreading out on a big, fluffy bed, but other than that, San Juan isn’t exactly a dream destination.”
Cassidy ran a hand through her tangled hair. Sitting on her duff drinking margaritas sounded pretty good, actually.
“And besides, you’re picking up the tab, right?”
“Yes,” Cassidy said. “Okay, if you really are sure . . . ”
“Absolutely.”
Eleven
It rained during the night, a hard, powerful burst that tapped the roof of the cabins and bounced off the decks. The sound helped Cassidy sleep better than she had for weeks. In the morning, they surfed a semi-secret spot in front of a dusty patch of desert by themselves for the first hour. After that a mixed group of San Juan tourists and locals out for a surf before going to work thickened the pack. Cassidy searched the lineup for a head that might be Reeve’s but was not surprised when she didn’t see one.
She asked the locals in Spanish if they knew of an American body surfer who may have passed through a few weeks ago. She had grown tired of the looks she had gotten when she first began her search—the fear and sadness. So instead of telling people she was looking for her disappeared brother, she explained that Reeve was an old friend she was trying to connect with. No one had seen him. She heard the same story from the tourists.
When Bruce anchored the Trinity in the calm bay facing San Juan del Sur, Cassidy felt a quiver in her gut. What was she about to learn?
Bruce drove the skiff to the beach, and everyone climbed out. Earlier, Jesus had received a ride from a cousin who whisked him off to a family reunion. “Sometimes I think the only reason he took the job is for the free ride,” Bruce said as his panga disappeared.
The remaining group completed their check-in at the customs office easily, then rejoined outside the building. Each had packed an overnight bag, and the women were huddled around backpacks or small duffels. Cassidy only needed a spare set of clothes, a bikini, and her toiletry kit, which fit into a plastic mesh beach bag she had borrowed from the galley. It looked silly—brightly colored in yellow, orange, and Kelly green—as if this was some kind of cheerful outing. Her stomach twisted with worry.
The women crammed into a minivan taxi, Bruce leaning into the passenger-side window to give the driver instructions before turning to the group.
“I’ve got a few errands to run. I’ll check in with you mermaids later,” he said, and with a tap against the taxi’s hood, he was gone, and their driver was whisking them past beach cafés, nightclubs, a colonial-style church, and shops painted orange, bluebird-blue, pink, and turquoise. The night’s rain had left the cobbled streets looking bare and clean beneath the partly blue sky, and the air smelled sweet and crisp.
The taxi climbed a hill and took several turns. Everywhere bougainvillea tumbled from rooftops and cascaded down the sides of buildings. Their hotel welcomed them with a handsome brick pathway lined with bright flowers. The women hurried inside, their excitement almost palpable.
“I’m so gonna get a massage,” Marissa said.
“Watch out for the happy ending,” Libby replied.
“They do that here?” Marissa said.
“The pool is calling me,” Jillian said behind her giant sunglasses. “And margaritas. I’m going to have one in every flavor.”
They checked in, Cassidy sliding her credit card across the desk and explaining the arrangement, and quickly departed to their rooms. They had paired up in the same arrangement as on the boat, so Benita led the way. After the cramped space of the boat, the spacious, beautifully adorned room took her breath away. Adobe walls with natural wood beams, tiled flooring, huge windows with a sweeping view over the treetops to the distant bay. Cassidy went to the window and tried to pick out the Trinity, but it was lost among the cluster of anchored boats.
“So, what’s your plan?” Benita said after dropping her bag on the closest bed.
Cassidy crossed her arms. “The police station isn’t far from here.” She swallowed a shaky breath. “I’ll start there.”
“I’m ready when you are,” Benita said.
Cassidy glanced at her. “You don’t have to. This is your vacation.”
“It’s just a pool and some watered-down drinks. I’ll catch it next time.”
Cassidy sighed. “You’re sure? I don’t know where this is going to lead us.”
“All the better,” Benita said with a grin. “An adventure. Let’s go.”
The police station was within walking distance, so they arrived after a short walk past brightly colored buildings and a mix of cramped businesses, apartments, and vacation homes.
The door to the baby-blue building stood open. Cassidy took a deep breath and entered.
A woman with a round face and hair dyed the color of straw greeted them in Spanish. Cassidy had already formulated her question and asked if anyone could talk to her about a missing person’s investigation.
The woman pursed her red lips, the top two points coming together in a way that reminded Cassidy of the evil substitute teacher, Miss Switch, in the childhood story.
“Would you like to file a report?” she asked.
“Would that help?” Cassidy asked.
The woman looked at her again, her quick eyes sizing
