Gone Tropical (6 page)

Amy stepped out onto the pavement and a taxi pulled up behind them. Diana grabbed the small suitcase, pulled up the handle, and pushed it up next to her. They exchanged a quick hug.

“Ring me.” Diana jumped into the car, and eased into the steady flow of traffic.

Amy sensed someone watching and glanced around. Across the parking lots, dark clouds hovered. She’d be flying right into the eye of a storm. A grim sense of foreboding overtook her. She shivered, and slipped her arms into the light sweater.
Stay alert.
She pulled the tiny suitcase behind her and walked inside toward the check-in. And for the first time since leaving San Francisco, she realized she was afraid, and very much alone.

Chapter Four

“What do you mean she’s not with you?” Howard Helm yelled.

Jake held the telephone receiver out from his ear but could still hear the old guy cussing him out. Ex-Texans, they never lose that “bigger than life” attitude. He knew the man well. Helm would calm down in about five minutes and then he’d listen to reason.

After working on this case for two months, Jake knew Helm was smart, wily as a fox, and hadn’t created his little coffin empire without learning how to lord it over everyone. Truth was the guy was all bluff and bluster on the outside but kind of marshmallow on the inside. He guessed that was how Firth had gotten to him, and managed to convince Helm of his honesty, his integrity, then siphoned off five million dollars and disappeared.

“You still there?”

“Yes, Mr. Helm. Now if I can explain—”

“What the hell is there to explain? You left Amy alone in Sydney. She checked out of the Wellington yesterday. Mick Dawson was in contact with the Australian Federal Police. They’re the guys in Canberra, and they cover international law enforcement, and work closely with ASIO. They’ve put a guy on the case—”

“Yes, he’s with—”

“That daughter of mine gave me some cock-a-mamie excuse about going to her friend Diana’s place. Amy’s never at home when I call. What do you have to say about that?”

Jake blew out a deep breath. No sense telling the old man that he knew the AFP agent. That he’d called him before leaving California, so Sarge could request the case if at all possible. And fortunately it had worked out for both of them. “I don’t think she’s in Sydney anymore.”

“Ya think? She’s doing her own investigation. My money says she’s in Cairns.”

“That would be my guess.”

“She’ll screw it up, Jake.” Helm’s voice softened. “I mean, even you have to watch your step. It’s a different country—”

It was a good sign. Helm called him Jake, only when he was worried. The rest of the time he was Turner, or asshole, or dumb-fuck. “Maybe not. Amy’s smart, she’ll cover herself.”

Helm snorted. “How does she look?”

“What?”

“I haven’t seen her in over a year. I told you that, remember? We had a falling out.”

Jake hesitated. He wanted to say hot, she’s damn hot. “Ah…well,” he said, and rubbed at his head with his knuckles. “She’s nothing like her photograph.”

“She got fat, eh, like her mother…god rest her soul?”

“Wha…no! She’s gorgeous. Your daughter is a stunner.”

There was a long pause. “Well, when you catch up with her, take one of them photos on your cell phone and send it to me.”

He’d taken a photograph when they were in the Wellington Hotel lounge. He’d told himself it was part of the job, but he’d examined it a dozen times. For some reason he didn’t want to share that one. “Okay. Sure, I’ll do that. How do you want me to proceed?”

“Proceed? Go to Cairns and find her, dumb-fuck. Check out every five-star hotel. She’s sure to be in one of them. Where are you now, anyway?”

“A friend’s place. Townsville. We’ve loaded up the jeep with supplies. We were going to bypass Cairns and head up to Laura, but we can detour, find Amy. If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah,” Helm said, and his voice softened. “Young American woman, traveling alone in those parts…dumb, just plain dumb. Here’s Diana’s number.”

Jake wrote the number down. “And then?”

“Hell, I don’t know.” Helm raised his voice. “Figure it out, that’s what I pay you for.”

“Okay. I’ll call you as soon as we locate Amy.” He hung up the phone and turned to see Sarge’s wife, Helen, and their teenage granddaughter, Kirstie, come in from the back yard.

“This will be a late lunch, Jake, so it might serve as tea, too. Set the table please, Kirstie.” Helen tossed fresh vegetables into the sink. “Help yourself to tea or coffee.”

Jake poured a coffee and smiled at Kirstie, who rolled her eyes and reached for the silverware. Those eyes were heavily made up. Her hair was short, one side shaved above the ear and that ear sported a dozen earrings, tiny loops and studs that could be diamonds. A teenager crying out for help. He’d seen it on the force often enough.

Sarge walked in and stood behind Helen as she made a salad. He teased her and kissed her neck. Their love was there, strong, faithful, comforting. Jake glanced down at the floor, a strange tug pulling at his heart. He turned, topped up his coffee.

“I’m gonna miss my girls,” Sarge said, and walked up behind Kirstie. “You take care of your grandmother, ya’ hear?”

Kirstie grimaced. “Can I drive the car?”

“No, not until you’re older.”

“You let me drive the truck around the farm.”

Sarge had told him of Kirstie’s behavioral problems. She’d stretched her parents to the limit and they’d separated over the constant arguments. While they were patching up their marriage, Sarge and Helen had stepped in.

“See what you started?” Helen said, her voice rising. “You let her drive the bloody thing twice. I warned you. And now you’re leaving—”

“Yeah, well, she’s a tomboy,” Sarge said. “And I won’t be gone long.”

“I’m not a tomboy,” Kirstie said. “Girls drive too.”

“Not when they’re fourteen, they don’t. At least not alone. You’re scaring your old grandpa half to death.” He crooked his little finger and stuck it out in front of her. “Now, do ya’ pinky-promise, no driving the car without me?”

Kirstie hooked his pinky. “I was just teasing.”

“Good. You stay smart.” He reached over to muss her hair, but Kirstie ducked out of his way. “I like my girls smart.”

“Okay, everyone, sit. Lunch is up,” Helen said.

Jake could feel Helen’s frustration and pain. He wondered, for the second time this week, what it would be like to have people in your life that you truly loved. People you ached to protect. He didn’t have that. Not anymore. He was bad luck for women he cared about. Trick was not to care. Work was his primary focus. With Firth captured, the money found, he’d have a well-established name for the big cases. Even with that security, it wasn’t the lifestyle that a woman would want to link herself to, especially if she wanted a family.

He pulled his chair up to the table and rubbed a finger back and forth across his top lip. He wondered if Amy had wanted a family when she married Firth.

****

Amy checked in to a cheap motel on the strip in Cairns. Not the strip opposite the beach with all of the exclusive hotels and the public park and lagoons, but a few streets back from the ocean. She paid for one night in advance, in cash, and explained to the attendant that her purse had been stolen, but fortunately she’d hidden a few hundred on her person.

“Park around the back, miss,” the attendant said, and slid a key across the green Formica counter. “We don’t have a restaurant.”

“That’s fine.”

“Ten dollars more, you can have a room with a view. Have to carry your luggage up a flight of stairs, though. No elevator.”

She handed him another ten dollars, thinking of the irony, ten dollars more to drag your luggage to your room. He exchanged the key. “Ice and soft drink machines are opposite the stairwell. You want a good meal there’s a beer garden next door.”

“Thanks.” Amy jiggled the key on its metal ring. “Check out is eleven, right?”

“Yeah. You can drop the key through the door slot if you leave before seven.”

Back at the Land Rover she smiled. She’d had to produce a credit card at the car rental place, so she figured why not go for a fun bright yellow jeep. The bald-headed guy wasn’t on her plane, she wasn’t being followed. She drove around to the back of the motel and parked. Driving on the opposite side of the road took some getting used to, but if she planned each trip carefully, she’d be used to the driving in a day or two. She folded the map and put it in her backpack, and pulled her small suitcase up the stairs to the second level.

Her room had a small terrace that overlooked the main street. Across the rooftops, a tiny spot of water sparkled gray and flat in the afternoon sun. If she stood on tiptoes she could see the sand. There were no waves rolling in, no whitecaps unfurling. The guy at the car rental place had said this wasn’t the pretty season.
No kidding
. He’d said it was pre-cyclone weather and the beaches were like tidal mudflats.

With her phone card in hand, she went downstairs to the pay phone. Tired as she was, she wouldn’t risk using the room telephone.

“I’m okay, just got in.”

“Thank heavens, I was so worried,” Diana said.

“I chose a little motel stuck between other little motels on a long strip near the beach.”

“A seedy place?”

Amy listened to Diana warn her of which areas to stay away from. “It’s okay, Di, I’m fine. No, I don’t need a five-star hotel.” She laughed. “That was in my other life.”

“Well, listen…um…Jake called,” Diana said. “He sounds nice—”

“When did he call?”

“An hour ago, at the gallery—”

“Wait.” Amy narrowed her eyes. “I never told him your name or where you worked, just that you’d given me the tip about my ex.”

“Jake said he knew you were in Cairns, that he’d spotted you.”

“Right. I’ll bet Daddy called him and said I was missing after he found out I’d checked out of the hotel. Otherwise how would Jake know you? They’re just trying to find out if I’m up here. And, there’s no way Jake could be in Cairns, he’d have barely made it to Townsville.”

“He left Sarge’s mobile phone number and said you can contact them if you want.”

Amy huffed, like she needed them. But she scribbled the number into her address book. “I’m not calling him. But just in case.” She repeated the numbers and shoved the mini-book back into her backpack.

“Are you going up to Cooktown today?” Diana asked.

“No, but I won’t leave without telling you. Talk to you tomorrow.” She hung up the phone and looked around at the steamy parking lot. Nothing suspicious.

Back upstairs, she turned on the air conditioner and lay down on the bed. Her eyelids closed for a few seconds and her body felt heavy, weighted down. Memories of Firth floated in and out of her thoughts. He’d always been calm. She’d never been afraid of him physically and doubted she was now. When she’d trailed him through Europe she hadn’t been afraid, so why all of this nervousness? It had to be the unknown element, the creepy guy. Who was he, and what did he want? She shuddered. Firth was a sociopath, not a psychopath. He wouldn’t harm her, would he?

****

Jake stood outside, on the motel room terrace, hoping the fresh air would calm his growing frustration. Sarge was sprawled across the nearest bed on his stomach, searching through the telephone book.

“Got anymore leads?”

“I think we’re almost done,” Sarge said.

They’d failed to find Amy Helm listed as a guest in any of Cairns finest hotels. She was in a strange city, playing detective, alone. Jake gazed into the room and waited for the next number to call. For sixty-five dollars Australian per night, he supposed you couldn’t really complain. They had a small view of the beach, a terrace with a big shady tree blocking them from the street, a clean shower, and two large comfortable beds.

“Here’s another of those luxury resorts,” Sarge said. “It’s our last chance.”

“Okay.” It was early evening, still hot and sticky, but the sky was suffused with the peachy glow of sunset, it would be nice to sit out here with a cocktail…with a woman and a cocktail. “Shoot.”

He punched the numbers into Sarge’s government-issue mobile, and hit send. It was another dead end. He went inside. “You know, screw it. I’m calling that Diana chick again.”

“I dunno mate,” Sarge said, and rubbed at his jaw. “You left our number. The ball’s in her court now.”

Jake flopped down on the second bed and pulled the pillows behind his back. “Want to go stake out some fancy hotels? See if we can spot Firth and his lady friend, or Amy Helm?”

“Sure, I’m half-starved. Do you think she’s registered under a false name? Paid in cash?”

“Can you do that over here?”

“If you pay in full at check-in, maybe, but I think they still need some form of identification, license, passport, something.”

“Then I guess that’s what she did. I’ll buy you a steak dinner. Put on your decent gear.”

Sarge smoothed his Hawaiian shirt. “This is it,” he said with a cockeyed grin.

Jake knew that. He wasn’t sure he could get that relaxed himself. He glanced at his beige shorts, and reached for a clean white shirt. With one arm in the sleeve-hole he turned. “You got another one of those numbers?” he asked, and jerked his head toward the shirt.

“Thought you’d never ask.” Sarge’s booming laugh bounced off the walls. “I reckon Firth and Meg will go straight to Meg’s folks. I think we’ve got the element of surprise. I say we head over there tomorrow.”

Jake nodded, remembering old man Helm’s warning to stay out of trouble. He had no jurisdiction here. He couldn’t apprehend a criminal in a foreign country. His job was to find the guy, and keep Amy safe. And keep the old man happy.

If he located Firth, Sarge would apprehend him. But first he had to find Amy.

Chapter Five

Stuart sat in the jeep next to stinky, sweaty Hadi Salim. He blew out a huge gust of air as he stared up at the dark motel room. The American woman—Col had said her name was Amy—was still in there. They thought it was his ex-wife. He’d seen the grainy photograph.
I should have been so lucky.

“So you took that photo on your cell, I mean your mobile, and forwarded it to Col?”