"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,”
