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17

ANGELINE

The small, stylish hotel was quiet when Angeline and Tavo pulled up in the Range Rover. They hadn’t exchanged a single word the entire fifteen-minute drive on deserted roads.

The violence at the site, the red cloud of the approaching storm on the weather app, Maverick’s unhinged (desperate?) energy, all of it had her jumpy, anxious. She needed to find Alex. He was the one who kept them all centered, grounded. Without him, it felt like anything could go wrong. The game was still five hours away; there was time to steady the ship before the hiders scattered.

On the drive from Enchantments, after they passed through the sleepy little town, which had a few small restaurants and bars, they hadn’t passed another car or a single streetlamp. The island, unlike some other places she’d been in the world, slept a deep and steady slumber off-season. There were no glaring lights, no tacky billboards, no streets lined with revelers, no food delivery.

New York City, the 24/7 candy store that it was, never closed its eyes, not for a moment. But this place gave you permission to power down, to take a breath. She pulled off the empty road, onto the even more deserted one that led up to the hotel, approaching slowly, gravel crunching, then killed the engine in the closest parking spot. They sat a moment, before Tavo reached a hand over and put it on her thigh.

Her whole body tingled at his touch.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice throaty. “Please.”

“Angeline.” Her name on his lips was a sound that made her go weak, crumbled all her resolve.

His other arm reached across, and she couldn’t keep herself from leaning into him, his pull magnetic. His fingers in her hair, the scent of him, something woodsy and clean. His lips. Mav devoured her, aggressive, always wanted to go deeper, have more of her. Tavo explored, asked permission, invited her into the warmth of his energy. He gave as much as he got.

“Please,” she begged.

But she was kissing him back, holding on to the strength of this arms, pulling him closer. It had been weeks since they’d been together. I’m recommitting myself to Mav , she’d told him after the last time.

Mav had been off with Hector somewhere in South America. They’d taken the jet for something decadent like a night out in Rio, and Mav planned to zip-line the next day. She was annoyed about it, for a lot of reasons. Then, in Hector’s post, she’d seen Mav in the background leaning into some busty brunette in a low-cut leather dress. She knew that look, wolfish, hungry. She’d felt a lash of anger, even though Mav cheated all the time. He didn’t think she knew. But she did. Someone like him, with so many appetites, so much freedom and money, he couldn’t not cheat.

She’d revenge-texted Tavo, since she knew that he was in the city and not off with Mav. She and Tavo had been on-again, off-again for a while. He wanted more than she did. After her text, he was with her in under a half hour. Their lovemaking was passionate, gentle. Afterward, she felt guilty, told him that they couldn’t be together again.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Tavo had said. He’d said it without heat, a simple statement of fact. They both cared for Mav in their different ways, aware of his many flaws, their own. They were wrapped around each other on her living room couch—hers and Mav’s.

“I know.”

Tavo left for Falc?o Island the next day, saying he respected her decision. But his texts came daily.

I can’t stop thinking about you.

I love you, Angeline.

I’m here when you’re ready to make a change. I’ll wait. I know whatever this is between us might not come again in my lifetime.

While Angeline buried herself in work, closing up the Manhattan office, Tavo had been on Falc?o Island for more than a month, location-scouting, reconnecting with old friends he’d grown up with, reaching out to the city council to set up meetings up for the challenge, staying away from her. She was glad he was gone, even though she thought about him every day, might catch herself thinking about him when she was with Maverick.

Now, she pulled away finally, decisively, and he respectfully backed off.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He released a long breath, put his hands to prayer at his chest. “Forgive me.”

Did she love him? Maybe. But not the way she loved Maverick. Gustavo wanted her. Maverick? He needed her. It was a subtle difference and one she couldn’t even fully explain to herself. If she let Gustavo go, he’d go on to be a loving and devoted partner to some other lucky woman. If she left Maverick, he would fall apart. That she chose Maverick for this reason was, she suspected, an essential flaw in her character. She needed to be needed.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said. “But it’s over, Tavo.”

She sounded so weak and unsure of herself, but he just nodded. She slowed her breathing, gathered herself together, wanting nothing more than to move into his arms and weep. They both sat a moment.

Then Tavo said, “Let’s find Alex.”

“What if he’s not here? What if he’s gone already?”

Tavo held up his phone. She saw Alex’s PopTalk icon, gathered close on the app to each of theirs. He had created an avatar for himself that was skinny and nerdy with big glasses and a beanie. They all followed each other on Pop, sending stupid messages and pics multiple times a day. The PopMap showed their locations in a cartoon world, each of them as animated versions of themselves. Angeline looked like a brunette Tinkerbell, small-waisted, big-bottomed, wearing a little dress and ballet flats. Tavo was stubbled and hauling a backpack. Hector wore, inexplicably, a miner’s hat and jumpsuit. Maverick was a punk rocker, with a purple mohawk and leather vest, tight pants, and Moon Boots, ridiculously ripped, his mouth open in a perpetual rebel yell. She saw Hector’s and Mav’s avatars together at the site. She and Tavo were in a little animated car together, the app having deduced that they were driving. Alex was, she saw with relief, in his room at the hotel. His avatar was curled up in bed, with Zzzz s floating over his head, indicating that he’d set his phone for sleep.

It was not like him to be sleeping in the middle of the day.

Okay. She took a deep breath in and let it out. All was not lost. He was mad at Mav, but he hadn’t left. Which meant he still cared. Or couldn’t get a flight. Whatever. She could still beg him to hold on a little longer. One more challenge and she’d tell him about Mav’s promise to fix everything that was broken. He would listen to her. He always did.

“Let’s go,” she said.

“Angeline,” said Tavo, reaching for her hand, “I’m going to see you guys through this tomorrow.”

She didn’t like the tone in his voice. Sad. Resigned. She turned back to look at him.

He went on, “But when it’s done, I have to go. Extreme…it’s not a good place anymore. It’s toxic for me.”

She didn’t say anything, just let the silence in the car expand. Finally, she pushed open the door. She could not deal with this right now. Things were falling apart, and it was up to her to keep it together for as long as she could.

“Let’s talk about this later,” she said, keeping her voice brisk like you’d talk to an anxious child. “After the challenge.”

He didn’t look at her, just stared out at something in front of them. Nothing. There was nothing there except for the trees and the stone wall edging a cliff that dropped into the tumultuous ocean below. The cloud cover was shifting from dove to charcoal, making it seem like dusk.

“Maverick is not the man I thought he was,” said Tavo. “Or he’s changed. He’s not the man you think he is.”

“Don’t do this,” she begged. “Not now. Just help me find Alex. I promise we can talk. When this is all over.”

She reached for and squeezed his hand. It was warm, strong. He looked at her, and she saw all his goodness, his solid character, his kindness. That jaw, those cheekbones, deep soulful eyes. What was wrong with her?

“Okay,” he said with a nod. “Let’s go.”

Angeline’s key card still worked, which meant that maybe Hector never checked them out. Maybe he, like Angeline, was hoping for one more night in comfort before having to pitch a tent.

She let herself into the quiet, well-appointed lobby, wood floors, a large fireplace, a simple desk with a giant computer monitor. There was no lobby attendant. No twenty-four-hour room service, just an after-hours emergency number you called if there was something you needed. It went straight to the owner’s cell phone. The place was far from town, had the air of desertion, no other properties around for miles. Tourist season was well and truly over. For the last week, they’d been the only guests in the hotel, getting the star treatment from the limited staff, with all the facilities, heated pool, steam room, sauna, luxurious lounge bar with big comfy couches and stunning views all to themselves.

Angeline and Tavo moved through the courtyard that led to the pool, then passed under the stone tunnel that connected the main property to the rooms, their footfalls echoing. She ran her hands along the wall, relishing the cool rock, its solidity and resilience. The property had stood here for hundreds of years, an old estate that the owners had bought in disrepair, then spent years restoring as a hotel just in time for the pandemic to hit. It made Angeline wonder what dream she’d had for her life. Was this it? Working for Mav? She’d always wanted to do things for others, to fix all the broken things, like Mav said. And she was doing that, most of the time. Wasn’t she?

They were approaching Alex’s door when Gustavo put up a hand to stop her.

“The door is open,” he said.

She saw that it stood ajar. Something roared in the back of her head, but she ignored it, marching past Gustavo and coming to stand in the doorjamb.

“Alex,” she said in a loud whisper. “Alex.”

When there was no answer, she started pushing on the door, entering the dark space.

“Alex, you’d better be dressed. I’m coming in. We have to talk.”

But the room was empty when Angeline flipped on the desk light. His suitcase lay open on the rack, everything neat and perfectly folded just like Alex, the most tidy and organized person she’d ever met.

The bed was made, and his charger was still plugged into the wall.

She turned to Gustavo, who was staring at the bathroom door, which was shut.

“Alex,” she said, knocking hard.

Gustavo squinted at something and walked over to the patio doors. Outside was a private lounge area with a hot tub. He stopped at the glass, put his finger to it and drew it back quickly.

“What?” she asked, not waiting for an answer. She tried the bathroom door and found it unlocked, pushed it open, and flipped on the light.

Empty. Pristine white tile floor, veined quartz counter, enormous glass-enclosed shower. Towels fresh, every surface dry.

“Angeline.”

She didn’t like the tone of Gustavo’s voice. She left the bathroom to join him and saw what he saw, a wide spray of viscous black-red liquid on the glass.

“It’s blood,” he said, holding up a finger smeared with bright red.

Her throat went dry. “Don’t be stupid,” she managed.

“It’s blood ,” he said again, louder. “Angeline.”

On the desk were Alex’s laptop and phone. She picked up the phone and saw hundreds of unopened notifications: text, phone, email. She’d never in all her years of knowing him seen Alex without his phone in his hand. She’d rarely sent him a text or email that wasn’t answered immediately, like he was just waiting to hear from her. Most of the messages were from his wife, Lucia, some from Gustavo.

“Do you have an area rug in your room?” asked Gustavo. The tone of his voice caused her to look up from Alex’s phone. He was staring at the floor.

She followed his eyes.

There was more red splatter on the floor that ended abruptly in a straight line. As if it had continued onto an area rug that had once lain between the bed and the desk. One that had been removed, leaving the straight-edged absence of the stain.

Angeline nodded, something roaring in her ears.

The room was spinning, and she felt like she was breathing through a straw. She knew Alex’s passcode, tapped it into his phone, scrolled through the endless messages, finding his chain with Lucia. She started reading. As she read, she felt the bottom dropping away from her world.

“I’m calling the police,” said Gustavo, moving for his phone.

She put a hand on his arm.

“Don’t,” she said, voice barely a whisper, heart thudding. “Just…don’t.”