Splash of Death

Splash of Death

D. A. Ratliff

I closed the door behind the porter and fell across the bed. “Okay, Victoria Spencer, you’re here. What next?”

Exhaustion washed over me as the last few months had taken their toll. I’d be lucky to get off the bed, but I rolled off and opened the drapes covering the massive patio door—the late afternoon Caribbean sun flooded the room, temporarily blinding me. I slid open the door and stepped onto the slate patio, separated from the beach by a grassy lawn and rows of palm trees and hibiscus plants.

The breeze was warm, and the smell of the ocean drifted toward me. I sank into a lounge chair, mesmerized by the changing purple, orange, and red colors cast by the setting sun as it slid into darkness. Slowly, the fatigue pressing on my shoulders eased, and a sense of peace replaced the pressure. Maybe coming here was smart. I chuckled. Time will tell.

What seemed to be a better idea included a hot bath and dinner. After a day of travel, I had no desire to mingle with the guests, so room service would have to do. I returned inside, locked the door, closed the blinds, and headed for the tub.

Never leave me alone with a jacuzzi tub. An hour later, waterlogged and my muscles so relaxed I felt fluid, I dragged myself into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed. I intended to order dinner, but I glanced at my phone to see my manager and best friend, Maggie Lane, had been calling every five minutes. I called her back.

“Tori. Where have you been? I got your text that you had arrived, but I’ve been calling forever.”

“Jacuzzi tub, need I say more?”

Maggie laughed. “No, you don’t. How’s the resort?”

“Gorgeous, but I splurged. What was I thinking when I booked two weeks?”

“You were thinking you needed rest and time to make some decisions. Larry is beside himself. He called me in a panic, saying he couldn’t reach you. I told him you were exhausted and had decided to take some time off. I assured him that you have the contract with you and will contact him in a few days.”

“Did that satisfy him?”

“It will have to.”

“Maggie, I just need to be sure that leaving my job at State is right, but I cannot repeat the last four months.”

“I know, Tori, but your books have been so successful. The last one sold more copies than the first four. Larry is a smart publisher. He knows he’s got a gold mine in your little typing fingers and is willing to pay for it.”

“Do I have another five books in me? I don’t know.”

“I do and remember that I’ve read the new manuscript. The one that isn’t a cozy mystery but a fantastic mystery thriller. You got it in you, girlfriend!”

“You are so perky. I hate perky.”

Maggie laughed. “You have put up with my perkiness through college, law school, failed marriages, and a pandemic. You like perky—you just won’t admit it.”

“Maybe, I do. But right now, I am getting off this phone, ordering dinner, watching a mindless movie, and going to sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I was too tired to eat most of the salad I’d ordered and fell asleep during the movie. I woke up around two a.m. and clicked off the TV. As I settled in to go back to sleep, I heard muffled, angry voices coming from outside.

Parting the drapes slightly, I saw two men standing toe to toe beside my patio. I slid the door open to listen. One man, in a dark shirt, was facing me while the other, wearing white, had his back to me.

“What were you thinking? Why did you get mixed up with these people?”

The man in the white shirt replied. “I didn’t have a choice. They were going to ruin me. But it’s all okay if you keep your mouth shut.”

“Keep my mouth shut? You are talking millions of dollars in federal contracts. Who knows how much you’ve already embezzled? You’re going to ruin the family.”

“Your meddling may have ruined the deal, and that’s what will ruin the family. That’s why he’s here. He wants to make sure the big deal goes down.”

“That bastard is here?”

“Yeah, and that isn’t good. He’s angry.”

“Well, I’m angry too. This has to stop. I won’t let you do this anymore.”

“You can’t stop it, or we will all suffer.”

“Watch me.”

The man in the dark shirt turned to walk away, but his companion spun him around and knocked him to the ground with a right hook. Standing over him, his assailant clenched his fists. “If you screw this up, I will kill you.”

I stifled a yelp and quickly closed the door. The attacker strode toward the pool area, and the other man struggled to his feet and turned, looking straight at me before he walked away. I was sure he saw me peeking through the blinds. The scene left me unnerved, but my exhaustion sent me back to bed and asleep within moments.

~~~

I awoke without any idea where I was. I opened my eyes to an unfamiliar room, and it took a second to remember I was on the Island of San Vincente in the Caribbean. I sighed with relief. There were worse places to wake up.

The morning proved brochure-worthy as I opened the drapes to clear skies except for a line of fluffy clouds on the horizon and crystal azure seas lapping a white sand beach. I could get used to this.

I debated whether to order room service breakfast but decided I needed to get out among the living. I put on a sundress, applied lip gloss, and headed out.

The massive hotel comprised four buildings housing accommodations, three pools, several restaurants, and all the usual land and sea sports available. The spa bungalows where I was staying were named as such because they were steps away from the two-story spa and fitness center located at the beach end of the main pool. I took the path leading to the pool and headed toward the lobby and the Breezes restaurant.

I love food from everywhere, but the American tourist in me won out, and I ordered bacon, eggs, pancakes, coffee, and a mimosa—I am on vacation. I sat on a beautiful terrace overlooking the bay, dotted with smaller islands. The soft, fragrant breeze and faint calypso music proved calming.

A few minutes after I sat down, a group arrived and sat across the terrace, where several tables were reserved. I guess it was a wedding party due to the variety of ages, young couples, probable grandparents, and the rest in their forties and fifties. This hotel was renowned for destination weddings.

My heart skipped a beat as I saw one of the men arguing outside my door last night. He had a large bruise on his jaw from the punch he took. I couldn’t tell if any of the others were the second man outside my room, but looking at body build, at least two other men looked similar.

The man with the bruised jaw fidgeted with his silverware. He kept glancing toward another table where a woman who resembled him sat beside one of the men who might have been with him last night. That man was jovial and loud, and the woman beside him appeared annoyed.

While waiting for my breakfast, several other couples arrived and joined the group. When the server brought my food, I asked if the group was a wedding party. He nodded and told me they were from Harding, New York, and the wedding was on Saturday, three days from now.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something serious was going on. They argued about federal contracts and embezzlement. It was not likely over who was paying for part of the wedding. Death threats are not usually associated with weddings.

After breakfast, I walked around the hotel, wandered into the shops, and found a beautiful swimsuit and beach sandals, which I splurged on. As I walked out, a man ran into me. My large leather purse went in one direction, my purchases in another, but the man grabbed me in time to keep me from falling. I gasped as I realized it was the man with the bruised jaw.

He let go of me. “Sorry... I was in a hurry and wasn’t watching where I was going. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I bent to retrieve the shopping bag, and when I turned around, I saw that he was holding my purse.

“Do I know you? You look familiar.” He held my gaze as he handed me the purse. I knew he was aware of who I was. He had seen my face last night.

“No, we haven’t met.” The last thing I wanted was to say I recognized him. “No worries. Enjoy your vacation.” He nodded and walked away.

I stopped at the spa on my way to the bungalow to arrange a late afternoon massage. Back in the room, I unpacked, which I hadn’t done last night, and texted Larry to appease him, followed by Maggie and my parents. By the time I was done, I was hungry. Lunch at the pool bar sounded inviting, along with a couple of hours in the sun. It was time to get this vacation underway.

~~~

The pool was only a few steps past the spa from the bungalow, and it was very convenient for me to access it from the patio doors. After a short walk, I selected a chair, spread my towel, and ordered a Planter’s Punch from Joel, a smiling pool attendant. I stretched out on the lounge, putting in my earphones as my drink was served.

I sipped the punch, breathed in the salty ocean breeze, and ran through a mental checklist of all the ingredients to start this vacation. Sunshine, check. Hot weather, check. Pool, check. New bathing suit, check. Tropical drink, check. All the ingredients were present and accounted for—it was time for my vacation to begin.

As I hit play, the bushes behind me rustled, and a man stumbled past my lounge chair. I heard a muffled scream, followed by the man falling into the pool, splashing water over me.

The next few minutes were chaotic. I jumped up, intending to help, but Joel and another attendant reacted faster. They dove into the pool, swam to the body, and pulled the man onto the deck, checked for a pulse, but shook their heads. There was no saving the victim—not with a steak knife sticking out of his chest.

It was not the start of my vacation that I had imagined.

Hotel security and management swarmed the pool area, asking people to retreat to the patio bar until the police came. I walked over to the body, my heart racing because I needed a better look. The body was wearing the same clothes as the man who nearly knocked me down earlier—the man who was arguing last night.

Joel put an arm out to stop me. “Ma’am, you do not need to see this.”

“But I do.”

Blood soaked the man’s chest, and the pool was tinged pink from blood. Behind me, blood trailed from the bushes in front of the spa. I was right. The dead man had a bruise on his jaw. This was the man I saw last night and who ran into me this morning.

Hotel security asked me to wait at the pool bar. “Certainly, but when the police arrive, please let them know I have some information about this man.”

I found a small table and sat away from the other guests, waiting for the police. Joel brought my drink to me, which I was thankful for, not so much for the alcohol but for something to hold.

Although the hotel was remote and the island small, the police arrived within ten minutes. Having researched police procedures for writing, I was impressed with their efficiency once on scene. I noticed the hotel security officer speaking to someone I assumed was the detective, and then both looked in my direction. After reviewing the crime scene for several minutes, the island officer stopped to talk to the hotel security officer, who had taken our information and approached me.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. I am Detective Roland Lavare, and you are Victoria Spencer, from Alexandria, Virginia, and you work for the United States State Department.”

“Yes, I am a legal counsel at State.”

“When did you arrive on the island?”

“I arrived late yesterday afternoon and checked into the hotel around six-thirty.”

“I understand you have some information regarding the victim?”

“Yes.” I recounted the events of last night and this morning.

“Interesting, Ms. Spencer. Your details are comprehensive. However, you could not recognize the man you said the victim argued with?”

“No, I might be able to recognize his voice, but not with any certainty. I never saw his face, only that he is approximately the same height.”

“Did you see or hear anything before the victim fell into the pool?”

“No, I had just arrived. I had ordered a drink from Joel and put my earbuds in when someone came from the bushes behind me. As I realized it was a man passing me, I heard a scream coming from across the pool and then a splash as he fell in.”

“Thank you, Ms. Spencer. If you think of anything else, please call me. We will release everyone shortly so you can continue your vacation.”

I was fascinated as I watched the police collect evidence. A crowd had gathered, and I saw people from breakfast arrive quite distraught and were led away by hotel employees.

After the police finished taking statements, I collected my things under the watchful eye of hotel security and returned to my bungalow. I hadn’t eaten lunch, so I ordered a salad from room service and quickly showered before my massage appointment.

I called the spa before leaving to ensure they were open after the midday events. They asked me to access the side door facing the hotel. As I approached the door, police tape blocked the main path to the spa’s main entrance. A local police officer and a hotel security guard stood on the sidewalk.

My skin prickled as I remembered the last words spoken by the victim’s companion last night. “If you screw this up, I will kill you.”

The spa’s interior evoked serenity, and my body relaxed as I walked through the hallway to the front desk. A young woman greeted me and summoned my massage therapist, who led me to her suite. I undressed and slipped under the sheet on the table.

I had scheduled a thirty-minute massage, and halfway through, I wished I had gone for the hour-long session. Alizée, although tiny, had strong hands and the right touch, and I melted into the table as I relaxed.

The soft fragrance of sweet olive and very soothing music lulled me into a near-comatose state, and when she announced she was done, I think I moaned out loud in disappointment. I rolled over and sat up. “Thank you. I needed that. You are quite skilled.”

Alizée giggled. “You are welcome. Your muscles were extremely tight. I hope you feel relaxed now.”

“I do, and I will be back and booking with you.”

She beamed. “Thank you. We had a few cancellations today, so I appreciate you keeping your appointment.”

“Cancellations? Because of what happened this morning?”

She nodded. “Yes, there is a gym and a large steam room on the second floor, and men from the huge wedding party came this morning to use the facilities. The police think the victim was with them.”

“Did anyone see what might have happened to him?”

“No. No one remembered seeing the man who died. The only funny thing was that Li Chin, another masseuse, told me when he arrived around twelve forty-five for his first appointment, the employee entrance door in the back was propped open with a landscape rock. That’s how we clock in and out, with our access card. Li figured someone wanted to sneak out. He moved the stone so he could clock in properly.”

“No one saw the victim exit by the main door?”

Alizée shook her head. “No one that I know of.”

~~~

After booking more massage sessions and a few other spa treatments, I returned to the bungalow and, exhausted, fell asleep. Waking at about five, I took a hot bath and decided to go to a restaurant for dinner. I dressed and grabbed my laptop, intending to have a drink and do some work.

It was nearing six p.m. when I arrived at the Trade Winds patio bar. After a long day of playing in the sun, a few people drifted in for cocktails. I ordered a gin and tonic, extra lime, and reread the letter Larry sent with the contract. The publishing house offered a very generous advance for an additional five books, plus they were willing to consider my espionage novel for publication, along with an advancement for it.

My drink arrived, and I gazed out at the bay and into the Caribbean Sea as I considered the choice that had sent me on this vacation. I couldn’t keep up the pace of book signings, appearances, and work. For the last few months, I would fly somewhere for an appearance and then back to DC for the week to work. I was worn out. I had to decide whether to sign the contract, leave my job at the State Department, and devote full time to writing or give up writing.

Maybe it was the gin, maybe it was the breeze, or it was likely the massage, but calm descending over me. I had decided but wasn’t ready to admit it to myself. I opened my pad and began considering plots for five more books.

“Hey, beautiful, you look lost in thought, and your glass is empty. Let me fix that.”

I looked up, startled to see a man sit down across from me. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

“Beautiful, you shouldn’t be sitting alone.”

“I choose to. Now please leave.”

His eyes narrowed, and he leaned over the table. “You really should talk to me.”

“Please leave. I’m not interested.”

He stared at me before he pushed away from the table. “Can’t say I didn’t try.”

My heart pounded, and I wasn’t sure why this pickup try affected me differently than other times. A sinister air surrounded the man, and it unnerved me. It’s probably just the events of the day getting to me. I took a deep breath, ordered another G&T, and continued working on story plots.

My stomach rumbling told me it was time for dinner. The restaurant I chose was across the lobby, and about halfway there, a hand grasped my arm. The hand belonged to the man from the bar. I tried to pull away, but he grabbed me tighter.

“I told you that you needed to talk to me.”

“Let go of me. I’ll scream.”

His response was to reach into his coat jacket. Adrenaline rushed through me as I feared he had a gun. He spoke in a low voice. “I wouldn’t advise that.” He tugged on my arm, and as I started to slam my purse into his face, a voice interrupted me.

“Hey, honey, sorry I was late. Golf game went too long.” He took my hand and glared at the other man. “I suggest you let go of her—now.”

Anger flashed across his face, but the man released my arm, spun, and strode off. I turned to my rescuer.

“Who are you?”

“Special Agent Andrew Grayson, FBI. Were you headed for dinner?” I nodded, and he continued. “Let’s get a table, and I’ll explain.”

“Wait. I think that guy was going to kidnap me, and I’m supposed to believe you when you tell me you are FBI?”

He scoffed. “You’re right.” He pulled a leather badge case from his jacket pocket and handed it to me. I’ve been with State long enough to know the badge was authentic.

“Okay, let’s talk. Only because I need to know what’s going on.”

The restaurant’s decor of soft sage and cream and low lamplight soothed my nerves. We sat at a table for two, away from the other diners, and spoke little as we perused the menu and ordered. The server poured wine and left. I was tired of waiting.

“Why is the FBI here?”

“I am an FBI Special Agent assigned to the Legal Attaché office in Barbados.”

“The Legat, I’m familiar with it. You are here because of the man who was murdered?”

“Yes. Anthony Davis.” He looked me in the eye. “I’ve read the report you gave the police. Is there anything else you overheard that you haven’t told the police?”

I admit his accusation that I possibly withheld information annoyed me, but I kept my temper in check. “I have told you everything except something I heard today at the spa. You probably already know that the victim—Davis—was there with some of the wedding party. According to my masseuse, no one saw him leave the spa.”

Grayson bit his lower lip. “The manager told us Davis was part of a group who came in to use the gym facilities and that no one saw him leave.”

“Were you told an employee found the rear door propped open?”

“No. When did this happen, and who found it?”

“My masseuse told me that an employee named Li Chin came to work about twelve-forty-five and found a landscape rock keeping the door open. He figured a co-worker was trying to sneak in or out without his keycard recording access. Chin removed the stone and opened the door as usual.”

“That’s not long after we think the murder was committed. I’ll talk to Chin in the morning.” He paused. “I was going to contact you in the morning, as well. I have some questions for you. Are you okay with answering them now?”

“I’ll be glad to answer.”

He began by asking me when I arrived at the resort and what my exact movements were. I told him what I told the local police. Dinner came and after the server left, I told him about seeing the wedding party guests at breakfast.

“You have no idea who Davis was staring at?”

“No, from the angle, I couldn’t tell, but there was a woman who looked a lot like him sitting in that direction, and she was with a man about the same build as the one he was arguing with last night. Tell me about the wedding party. Was Davis father of the bride?”

“No, the bride’s uncle. Her father was Davis’s brother. As for the woman who looks like him, she’s his twin sister.”

“So sad for the bride and groom for this to happen.”

He was about to respond when I remembered Davis running into me. “Oh, one thing, Agent Grayson, that I forgot. I was leaving a store in the shopping area off the lobby, and Davis ran right into me. Almost knocked me off my feet, but he grabbed me in time. He helped me with my purse as I retrieved my shopping bag. I felt he knew I was the woman who overheard them, but he didn’t say anything.”

“When was this?”

“Around ten this morning.”

“Thank you. I’ll follow up in the morning. You mentioned you are an author and working for the State Department. Tell me about your books.”

“I write cozy mysteries about a Smithsonian Museum curator who seems to stumble onto murder a lot. “

“How did that get started?”

“Lockdown. My best friend and I had both gone through bad divorces, and she had to look for somewhere else to live just as the lockdown started. She put her things in storage and came to stay with me while we couldn’t move about the country. She took up painting and encouraged me to write. We came up with this character that I never intended to publish. But at her insistence, I sent the manuscript to a publisher I had met, and the rest is, as they say, history. To my surprise, I wrote several books that did very well, and now the publisher wants more. I came here to decide whether to leave my job and write full time.”

“Quite the decision.”

“Yes, but I’m considering it. Life is too short not to take a chance when presented. How about you? What made you join the Legal Attaché office, Agent Grayson?”

“Call me Drew, please. And those nasty divorces go around. I always loved the islands and warm weather, so I applied for a position and was transferred to Barbados after mine. Down here for two years and love it.”

“Please call me Tori, and I can understand why you love the islands. Not that this trip has been terrific so far.”

“Hopefully, it will calm down.”

“I hope so. Tell me about Barbados.”

We spent the rest of dinner discussing the islands, and Drew insisted on walking me to the bungalow after I had been accosted earlier.

He waited while I unlocked the door and flipped on the light. I gasped. My room had been ransacked.

Drew brushed past me. “Stay here.” He entered, pulling his weapon from its holster. After what seemed an eternity, but only seconds passed, he returned to the door. “Okay, it’s clear. I need you to see what’s missing.”

While I checked my belongings, Drew contacted the local police and hotel security. When he turned toward me, I shrugged. “Nothing is missing. Besides my phone and laptop, I didn’t bring anything of value with me, and everything is here.”

He nodded and called hotel security and the local police. “Let’s step out and wait for the police and forensics.”

Hotel security came, and Drew asked them to stay until the locals arrived. He led me to the quiet business center off the lobby, where we sat at a conference table.

“Tori, I need to ask you some questions.”

“Okay. I don’t know anything more than I have told you, but ask away?”

“Have you ever met Anthony Davis?”

“Other than the instances I told you over the last twenty-four hours, I have never met him.”

“Do you know a man by the name of Dennis MacGregor?”

“No.”

“Do you know a man by the name of Howard Wagoner?”

“No.”

“Have you ever visited Harding, New York?”

“No.” I waited as he wrote on his phone. “Why are you asking me this.”

He didn’t answer my question, only asked me another. “When Davis ran into you this morning, did he say anything to you? Or give you anything?”

“No. He just apologized and helped me pick up my things. What is going on? I have a right to know since I’m in the middle of something.”

“I suppose I owe you that.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Howard Wagoner is a US representative for the Harding, New York area district where there has been recent, extensive industry growth. Anthony Davis is his brother-in-law. An informant called the FBI to say that he felt Wagoner was providing Dennis MacGregor with insider bid information so that MacGregor could rig the bids proposed by other contractors. MacGregor and other construction companies are believed to have had acceptable low bid numbers supplied by Wagoner. Wagoner is also allegedly bribing companies to build in his district with the promise of low construction contracts and considerable tax incentives.”

The hairs on my neck prickled, and I stood up. “You think I’m involved?”

“When I read your name and occupation on the police report, I called State. We are dealing with a United States elected representative. They confirmed you had taken emergency leave for three weeks. A cursory look at your life didn’t reveal any reason, like the death or sickness of a family member, that would prompt emergency leave. Then you turn up at the same place as Wagoner. A coincidence perhaps, but I needed to know.’

“I told you. I’m deciding whether to leave my State job and write full-time. My publisher needed an answer quickly, and I was exhausted after doing book tours on weekends and working during the week for the last several months. I am not a spy. I’m just tired. I came here because a friend at State spent his honeymoon here. He said it was beautiful, peaceful, and remote.” I plopped onto the chair. “It’s been anything but peaceful.”

“I know, and for what it’s worth, I don’t believe you are involved. But for some reason, Wagoner thinks you are. We need to find out why.”

“I’d like to know why myself.”

Drew got a call and then requested a police officer to post outside of the business lounge while he met with the police chief. After the officer arrived and Drew left, I wandered to the window overlooking the main pool. The pool was beautiful during the day, but the colorful pillars dotting the deck glowed at night, and the pool water shimmered in iridescent light. Lost in thought, I barely noticed the door opening.

I should have paid attention. Someone grabbed me and wrapped an arm around my neck, pressing hard. I tried to fight it, but the room faded as I passed out.

I woke up, hands and feet bound, a gag in my mouth, and crammed into some sort of container that was moving. The rolling sound was muffled, then loud, before becoming muffled again. When the movement finally stopped, the top opened, and I was lifted out and thrown onto a soft surface—a bed.

There were three men in the room, all masked. One knelt on the bed and pressed a gun barrel with a silencer attached under my chin. “I’m gonna take that gag out, but if you scream, I’ll shoot you. Understand?”

I nodded, and he pulled the gag loose, not removing the gun until he was sure I wasn’t going to scream. He stood up, and one of the other men jerked me into a sitting position. I winced as my arms ached from being bent around my back.

“Can you untie me?”

“No, don’t care if you hurt. All I want to know is what did he give you?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Don’t lie to us.” One of the men, wearing a black hood covering his face, stepped closer to the bed, his fingers wrapped around a knife handle. “We don’t want to shoot you, too much noise. But I will cut you if you don’t talk. Now, what did he give you?”

“Who?”

That question elicited a slap across the face. “Davis, you fool. What did he give you?”

“The guy who died? You stabbed him?”

That got me another backhand to the jaw. “Listen, bitch, we saw him run into you to stop you. He’d been following you. Did he give you a disk, a flash drive, what?”

“Look, I don’t know what you are talking about. He ran into me, apologized, and handed me my purse. Nothing else.”

The guy with the gun spoke. “The purse. It wasn’t in her room when we searched.”

“Was it in the place you found her?”

“Not that we saw.”

“Great. The police are crawling all over that damn bungalow. If they find it, we’re toast.” He turned to the third guy. “Go see if the police are still there.”

He turned back toward me. “You cooperate, and you won’t get hurt. How do you know Davis?”

“I don’t know him. Just ran into him, that was all.”

He hit me again.

~~~

“Agent Grayson, look.” Detective Lavare held Tori’s large leather purse in one hand and an envelope in the other. “This was inside, underneath a wallet and a small makeup case.” Both items were lying on the bed with the contents of the purse.

Grayson took the envelope and opened it. Inside was a handwritten note and a flash drive. He read the note out loud.

“I’m Anthony Davis. I know you saw me arguing with my brother-in-law, Harold Wagoner. I figure you overheard him threatening to kill me. Dennis MacGregor is here with his goons, and Howard knows I am not joking about going to the cops about what they are doing. The flash drive contains all the information I found when the fool asked me to fix his laptop. It’s everything. It lists all the bribes, the extorsion, the bid rigging, and all the companies involved.

If I die, you can tell the police what Howard said and give them this information. I always hated that bastard. He treats my sister and their kids horribly, but everyone thinks the good representative is an honorable man. Nothing honorable about him. I love my family, and he has brought them shame.”

Grayson handed the flash drive and letter to Lavare. “Get this logged in and processed. Print out what is on those docs. Ms. Spencer had this bag with her this evening but left it on the bed when I took her to the business center. I’m going to talk to her.”

When he reached the business office corridor, he saw the police officer he had left to guard the door lying on the floor. He ran to the fallen man and felt for a pulse. Alive, thankfully, but out cold from a blow to the head. He rushed into the room, only to find Tori was gone. He called for an ambulance and then notified Lavare. “Your officer has been assaulted, but he’s alive. Get this hotel locked down and units on the road. Tori Spencer is missing. I believe she’s been kidnapped.”

Lavare arrived, checked on his officer, and then joined Grayson. “Do you think what Spencer witnessed is why she was kidnapped?”

“I don’t think these people know she oversaw the argument, but earlier this morning, she had an encounter with Davis, likely when he placed the note and flash drive in her purse. I think they were following Davis, and when they told MacGregor what happened, he figured that Davis had passed the information on to her to protect it. So, they came after her.” Drew thought for a moment. “This hotel takes a copy of photo IDs, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Tonight, some guy tried to pick up Tori in the bar. She rebuked him. Then he tried again while she walked through the lobby to dinner, but I intervened. I thought he was hitting on her, but she was creeped out. She thought he was trying to get her out of the building. She was right. I’ll recognize his photo. That’s where we start.”

Twenty minutes later, they had that man’s name and two others who checked in together and shared a suite. Lavare had called for his special response officers, and they headed for the guest room.

~~~

I managed to sit up and rest my back against the headboard. One of my captors stepped out on the patio to make a call while the other watched TV. My jaw hurt, and my arms and legs were numb from being bound. I noticed a large garbage can with wheels across the room, which they had stuffed me into.

A rap on the door startled the TV guy and me. He peered through the peephole and opened the door for the guy sent to check out my room. The guy out on the patio came in and shrugged. “So, were they there?”

“Yeah, cops all over the place. We can’t get near it.”

The man rubbed his face and spoke into the phone. “We can’t get in the room now, cops there. If Davis did get info to her, cops have it now.” He paused. “Okay, we’ll meet you out front.” He ended the call.

“Boys, get our bags. Boss is getting a car.”

The two guys grabbed the three duffle bags and left. The remaining man turned toward me. “You didn’t see our faces or know our names, so I’m gonna let you live. They won’t find you for a while. Got the do not disturb sign on the door. You got lucky.”

He patted me on the face and walked over to the door. As he opened it, the police rushed into the room and took him to the floor. Drew followed.

He yelled over his shoulder, “Get a medic in here.” He started to untie me.

“There are two more men.”

“We got them before they reached the lobby. Are you all right?”

I managed to smile. “I got lucky.”

~~~

I finally got to bed at about two a.m. and slept until ten. My swollen jaw hurt, and my wrists were raw from the duct tape. I rolled out of bed, took a hot shower, and ordered breakfast from room service, which the hotel manager delivered. His apologies for what happened were profuse.

I ate on the patio and was about to call Maggie when Drew walked around the corner.

“May I join you?”

“Please.”

“How are you feeling?”

“A little shellshocked still, but okay. Thank you for saving me.”

“My job and my pleasure. Are you planning on staying?”

“Yes, I think any danger that I was in is over. The hotel manager delivered my breakfast and wanted to comp my entire stay. I refused. This wasn’t the hotel’s fault. He then offered free spa services and meals. I might take him up on the spa, at least.”

“That was generous of the hotel.”

“Working for the State Department has its merits. And... I decided to take a chance, turn in my notice at State, and give this full-time writing a go. I can use the time to work on the first new book.”

“Good. I think that’s wise. Who knows, you might find the Caribbean becomes your muse.”

I took a breath at his suggestion and changed the subject. “Thank you for sharing what was in the note and on the drive.”

“You were instrumental in cracking this case. From the info you got about the spa employee door being open, we discovered a hotel maintenance worker was paid to prop open the door. Wagoner knew that Davis had found the data file and told MacGregor. The men who kidnapped you slipped into the spa, took Davis out of the building, discovered he didn’t have the drive with him, and, when he wouldn’t talk, killed him.”

“How awful.”

“All the info you gave us helped. We didn’t have any concrete evidence other than the informant’s words. The data from Wagoner’s laptop Davis downloaded is damning. Several people are being arrested in Harding today. The corruption included companies moving into the area and the construction companies that build their facilities.”

“I’m glad Davis decided to leave the hard drive with someone.”

“The next few weeks are going to be quite busy.”

I panicked as I realized Drew was likely returning to Barbados—surprised that I would miss him. “I guess you are returning to Barbados?”

He caught my gaze. “No, we arrested MacGregor and his employees and took Wagoner into custody last night. The bride and groom postponed the wedding, and I’ll be interviewing the family and guests before they leave tomorrow. I’ll be here for a while, awaiting the extradition of the prisoners as San Vincente wants to prosecute them for Anthony Davis’s murder. Looks like you are stuck with me for a while. How about dinner tonight?”

“I’d like that.”

“I’ll call you later. Rest today and take advantage of the spa.”

As Drew walked away, I smiled. I did get lucky.