After Ryan pulled off a successful rescue in Louisiana, he’d had Zoe’s foster file transferred to Florida, where Kathleen had offered to take her in. In an uncanny twist of fate, it turned out that Kathleen had been engaged to Zoe’s father many years ago, long before she was born.
Kathleen was firm and tough, but she had provided the rigid boundaries that an insecure and out-of-control teenager desperately needed. For the first time since she could remember, Zoe was no longer waiting for someone to tire of her, no longer waiting to be transferred to another place where the parents would only use her for the monthly check they received from the state.
Kathleen did not have to take Zoe in. But she had, and in a few short months, she made Zoe feel like she had finally found her home. After laying down a few ground rules, she had invited Zoe in and treated her like the child she never had. Not only did Kathleen take the time to help with homework, but she carved out time for the two of them to go shopping in Miami, watch a movie every weekend, and even get their nails done regularly. If Zoe was an interruption or a hindrance to her previous way of life, Kathleen had never shown it. Through it all, Ryan and Brad had become like uncles, Roscoe and Denny like grandparents, and Amy like an older sister. Zoe was thriving in school and discovered quickly enough that she loved being on the water. Next week she was scheduled to take her first scuba class.
Until yesterday, life couldn't have been better.
But now Kathleen was missing, snatched off the streets of one of the safest cities in the world. It made no sense. Zoe chewed nervously on her thumbnail. A tiny orange light flickered on her dashboard, bringing her thoughts back to the present. The Sentra was low on gas.
Just ahead, the Shell sign stood tall alongside the road, right before the Overseas Highway turned out over Lake Surprise and crooked toward the Southern Glades. She pulled into the gas station and stopped alongside an empty pump. Turning the car off, she got out and twisted off the gas cap. After swiping her card and inserting the pump into the tank, she leaned back against the wheel well and tried to shake off the anxiety creeping through her chest.
Dark green mangroves flanked the gas station, and a white dusting of sand covered the asphalt. A sturdy gust of wind came off the water, drifted over the mangroves, and lifted thousands of grains of sand into the air, sending a spray into Zoe’s face. She forced her eyes shut and turned away, waited for the gust to die away, and then brushed the sand from her hair and shirt. That was when she saw a familiar, but unexpected sight.
Across the asphalt, near the dumpster, sat a silver Mustang. Glancing through the windshield, she recognized the man who had been eating alone at The Reef. Her eyes met his, and he jerked his gaze down and looked down at his phone.
An uneasy feeling shimmied through her stomach.
The pump clicked off, startling her. Muttering under her breath, she returned the handle to the pump and secured the gas cap before getting in and starting the car. She adjusted the rearview mirror so she could see the Mustang behind her. The man was looking in her direction again.
She wasted no time pulling back out onto the highway. Before long, she was accelerating up Jewfish Creek Bridge as Key Largo slowly diminished behind her. She kept her attention on the mirror and was relieved when, after a couple of miles, she saw no further sign of the Mustang. She relaxed a little and turned the music up. She continued toward Homestead, passing Manatee Bay and reaching the Glades when she glanced in the mirror and noticed the Mustang far behind her.
Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. Why was she being paranoid? Kathleen’s disappearance had her on edge. The guy had probably stopped at the Shell to orient himself to his map or to send a text message. And besides, it wasn’t like there was another major road out of the Keys leading up to Homestead or Miami—Card Sound Road was too far out of the way to count.
Zoe turned the music up and forced herself to keep her eyes on the road ahead as she tried to think about something else. Soon enough, her mind drifted to Kathleen again, trying for the hundredth time to consider a good explanation for her disappearance—one that didn’t entail the worst kind of outcome. She bit down on her bottom lip and held back a flood of tears that had been threatening to burst forth all day. She wanted to call Ryan, to see if he was making any progress and if there were any hopeful developments in the case. But she held back. The last thing Ryan needed was to be interrupted by an emotional teenager.
Twenty minutes after leaving the Shell station, the calm monotony of the Glades was finally broken up as Zoe passed Last Chance Bar and entered Florida City. She drove on, passing a handful of restaurants and hotels, and then glanced in her rearview mirror to see the Mustang hovering twenty yards behind her. She was about to chasten herself again for being paranoid when a dormant instinct stirred inside her and told her to stay alert.
Turning
