"Yes," she nods. "We monitor that area to ensure no one from neighboring islands or who is traveling by will come ashore without us knowing they're here."
I nod. "That's what frightens me about the boat I saw. I know you told me there can't be any boats there, but I feel very anxious about the situation. You see, I've had a very challenging year, and it has put me into a bad headspace. My boyfriend went missing three years ago and resurfaced last year, but then was murdered."
"Oh my god," she says, her hand touching the necklace at her throat.
“As you can imagine, that experience had a serious effect on my feelings of personal safety. In fact, this is the first vacation I've taken since he disappeared. I really want to feel safe here because I enjoy it very much and would like to return. You may have noticed I've already lengthened my vacation. But if I can't feel secure and know I'm protected here, that's not something I can entertain,” I tell her. “Which is very disappointing because I know a lot of people who would really love this resort. Some of the men have very particular tastes like men tend to do, and I think they would be happy here. But I can't honestly recommend it if I feel unsure about the safety.”
"I fully understand that, and I want you to feel absolutely secure and at ease when you're here," Catherine says. "Would it reassure you to see the security camera footage?"
I let out a big breath and smile.
"Would that be possible?" I ask.
"Of course. Not a problem at all. Wait right here, and I will get it for you."
She leaves the office, and I snatch a business card from the holder on her desk, then run around to her computer. It's open, and I scan the icons on her desktop, hoping each of the managers has access to the same information. My heart jumps when I find the folder containing the guest's expense records. Moving as fast as I can, I email the entire file to myself. I then search for recent applicants and send myself that file as well, making sure to cover my tracks and delete the evidence from her outbox. I want to keep digging, but there isn't time.
I've just gotten back into the chair when Catherine opens the door again. She shows me a flash drive in her hand and goes around the desk to her computer. A flicker of confusion crosses her face when she looks at the screen. Shit. I must have left something up or not put the cursor back where she left it.
"I'm sorry," she says a second later, shaking her head and getting the smile back. "Our reservation system is acting up today, and I've been trying to figure it out."
Relief loosens my hand on the edge of my seat, and I smile at her.
"Technology can do that to you," I say.
"I swear, it's taking over," she laughs. "But anyway, I have that footage for you. Our security office gave me everything since you checked in. It's a continuous stream, but we can fast-forward so you can see everything."
She puts the flash drive in, and an image of a narrow, rocky beach appears on the screen. To one side is the rocky outcropping. The angle is different than I've seen it, but the footage covers the entire area, and I can clearly see the water in front of the rocks as well as out to either side and the front. Catherine leaves the video running for a few seconds. A few birds flutter by. A dolphin jumps through the water out in the distance. She scans through, and I stay focused on the water near the rocks. Minutes, hours, and then days pass, but the boat never shows up. When it's done, Catherine looks at me.
"Does that reassure you?" she asks.
"So much. It must have just been my eyes playing tricks on me."
"That happens. I'm just glad I could make you feel safer here. Is there anything else I can do?"
"Just one more thing. All this talk about water and boats has made me want to do some sailing. Can I arrange to rent a boat later?" I ask.
"Absolutely. But are you sure you're going to be up to it?"
"Definitely. I'm already feeling so much better."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
As soon as I leave the lobby, I head for Emmanuel's room. He didn't specify a time, so I want to try to get in touch with him as early as possible. I knock on his door, but he doesn't answer. A couple more knocks get the same reaction. I'm getting ready for another round when the door two rooms down opens. A woman comes out and smiles at me.
"Are you here to see Emmanuel?" she asks.
"Yeah. He asked me to stop by. Do you know if he's here?"
"He goes for a jog and then swims every morning. I'm assuming that's what he's doing. I just checked in, but we've stayed here at the same time before. Takes a few hours, but he should be back later."
"Okay. Thank you."
She looks me up and down, and a bemused smile curves her lips.
"He's branching out," she comments. "I guess there's a spring sampler."
"Excuse me?" I ask.
She gives a dismissive laugh and pulls a pair of expensive sunglasses down over heavily made-up green eyes.
"Be careful. I heard swimming early in the morning can be dangerous for girls who know Emmanuel."
She breezes away, and I fight the sick feeling rolling in my stomach. The woman took the elevator, so I run into the stairwell and take the steps two at a time to my floor. I'm feeling it by the time I get there and slow down to a stiff limp as I head down the hallway. But I stop in my tracks.
The door to my room is standing open wide. My hand goes to my pocket before I remember my phone died a watery
