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Ma gnaws on her lip. “Maybe you can just ignore—”
The phone buzzes with a text.
Maureen [2:02PM]: SOS. Srsly, where tf r u?
SOS. Dread fills my stomach, leaden and hot. This isn’t going to be anything good. With a deep breath, I pick up the phone and type out:
Ah Guan [2:04PM]: What is it?
The reply is practically instantaneous.
Maureen [2:04PM]: PICK UP THE PHONE U FUCKER.
Oh god, she’s going to call again, isn’t she. I quickly type:
Ah Guan [2:04PM]: Can’t, w/ ppl right now
Maureen [2:05PM]: Get rid of them! This is an emergency!
Ah Guan [2:05PM]: Just tell me what happened.
Maureen [2:06PM]: Over text? R u high rn?
Right. She can’t tell me over text because then it could be used as evidence if things go sideways. Okay.Think, Meddy.
Ah Guan [2:08PM]: I’ll call in a sec but I won’t be able to say much ’cuz ppl around me.
Maureen [2:08PM]: FINE.
“I’m going to call her back. Don’t say a word while I’m on the phone with her.”
Ma nods, and I take a second to gather myself. Deep breath. Okay. I tap on Maureen’s name and call her. She picks up on the first ring.
“Dude, oh my god, things are so bad. I can’t even—everything’s going wrong!” Her voice is shaky, hoarse with tears.
Instinct kicks me to say something. It feels so wrong just standing here being silent. I opt for a Hugh Jackman as Wolverine grunt. “Hmm.”
“They—shit—they found out the stuff’s missing!” she hisses.
Oh! Hope soars. Maybe that’s good. They’ll catch Maureen and—oh. And they’ll interrogate her, try to dig for the truth, and what if she spills then? What if she says Ah Guan came and got the stuff, and then they—I don’t know, what would they do? Maybe search the entire resort? Would they do that? Who am I kidding? There’s easily a couple million dollars’ worth of jewelry and fine watches in that duffel bag; of course they would. They’d do anything to get it back. Shut off the island from the mainland. Tell every guest to stay in their room while they methodically go through everybody’s room. Oh my god. This is bad. This is really, really bad.
“And the heat’s on me,” Maureen continues. “’Cause I was the last one with the stuff. I can’t let them suspect—not her, oh god, I can’t—change of plans, you hear me?”
I give my Wolverine grunt again.
“We’ll have to pin it on the photographer.”
“What?!”
“She was the one who helped carry the boxes back to the room—you sound weird, do you have a cold?”
It takes everything inside me to come up with another grunt.
“Anyway, she helped me carry the boxes back. I can tell them that I was careless, that she was still in the room when I opened the safe. Maybe she saw the safe code or whatever, and then came back later to take the stuff. That’s believable, right? It’ll buy us enough time. You need to—shit, what are we gonna do with the stuff? You need to put them in the photographer’s room and—”
I hang up on her. My heart is racing, my mind shattered. I can barely string together a coherent thought.
“What did she say?” Ma asks, rubbing her elbows, her face lined with worry. She’s so concerned she forgets to speak English and switches to Indonesian. “Meddy, you look so scared, what is it?”