Page 73 of Rio

Alma’s expression shifts and she looks suddenly worried.“She was going to head further along the coastline.”

“Why?”

“To get more ...”The old woman stops talking.

To get more evidence?If so, it tells me she doesn’t have a watertight case.She filed too early.Probably because this woman told her to.“How far up the coastline?Do you know?”

“She was heading over to the Caye Encanto, the small caye east of the main developments.”

I wonder what possessed her to go there now.But I know why.At least, I have an idea.I might have come on too strong yesterday.She knows my moods, just like I’m getting to know hers.I swipe a hand over my brow.She went digging for more evidence, to make sure she had enough, because I threw a tantrum.She probably thinks I’ll go running to the old man and there’ll be serious pushback.

“She was going to take one of the small boats,” the old woman says.

“Small boats?”

“I told her not to go, but she said she’d be quick.”

“I heard on the radio that there are reports of a storm coming,” Vilma announces.She glances up at the sky.We all do.It’s darkening fast.

“When did you hear that?”her boss asks.

“Just a few minutes ago.I was going to close and head home.”

I glance at my watch, heart thundering.Fuck.Raquel is out there, in a boat, looking for evidence that I probably pushed her into getting.She could be in serious, life-threatening danger.Out alone in the sea, in a small boat, with a storm coming.Everything around me falls away, and my thoughts narrow and fix on Raquel.Rules and consequences vanish.I’m going after her, because if something happens to her, I won’t be able to take it.

I make to move.“I’m going after her.”

“Please hurry.”The old woman doesn’t try to stop me.“Everything can change in an instant.”

I make to leave.

“Wait!”She calls out, then disappears, reappearing a few seconds later with a large satchel she shoves at me.“You will need this.”She hands me a small bag.

“Of supplies you might need.”

I grab the bag.“Thank you.”Then jump into my Jeep, type the location into the maps app on my phone and drive like a fiend.My journey starts of easy enough, despite the relentless rain and strong gusts of wind.But then I hit a narrow dirt road that winds through the jungle.It’s dark here, and the road isn’t so clearly delineated.Rain lashes down but I have a little cover under the thick foliage.Above me, palm fronds bend and thrash in the wind.To my right is the ocean.Surf hurtles against the rocks, a salty spray making my windscreen even blurrier.

All I think about is Raquel, being out in this.

What was she thinking?

What did I drive her to?

It’s all overgrown jungle, and what can barely be called a road.There’s no signage.No markers.I keep going in the direction the map last pointed before my connection cuts out.

“Fuck.”

The storm fully unleashes.Wind tearing through the trees like an invisible deathly predator ripping its prey.Rain slices sideways.The jungle feels oppressive.A dark and wet prison that’s impossible to escape from.Something catches my eye.A boat violently bobs up and down.It’s the only sign of life out here.I swerve off the road, the Jeep’s tires skidding in the mud.I pull off to the side, kill the engine and open the door, but the storm smacks me full on, making me buckle up.Somehow I manage to push forward and get out, pushing through the tangled mess of roots and wet brush, my boots slipping and sliding in the mud as I fight my way toward the shore.

The sea is no longer a glistening blue.It’s angry, and violent, churning black and violet as it crashes against the coastline like a frenzied beast.The boat is empty, but rocking wildly, the rope tied to a mangrove branch.That must be the boat Raquel came in.

I look around, desperately scanning the waterline, the trees, the stretch of wild land.Rain hits my face, hard and heavy as golf balls.My eyes sting, my hair and face, are drenched, my clothes are soaked through.I struggle to move forward in the muddy, slushy mess.

“Raquel!”I call, but the wind shrieks, and the rain buckets down.“Raquel!”

What if she slipped and hit her head on a rock?What if she got pulled under?What if she drowned?

For a moment fear paralyses me.I lose the ability to think.But then I see her face, hear her laughter, and I refuse to accept these scenarios.