clinical rotations and nights in the med school library, cramming data about each monthly specialty into her weary brain, and they’d gone mountain climbing in Nepal and surfing in Australia. Trent had barely made it back from China for her graduation, literally walking in the door of her apartment as she and her parents were walking out.
She was basking in self-pity, she realized, and that wasn’t her style. So what if she’d begun her medical career with a grand total of $342,769 in debt? Who cared if they’d been out seeing the world while she’d worked so hard? She was a doctor. The only thing she’d ever wanted to do in her life.
Besides, Trent had paid off that debt as a divorce gift.
Yes, other husbands gave their wives wedding and anniversary gifts. Hers had rewarded her for putting up with him as long as she had.
“What did GayAnne tell you?”
Her gaze shifted to Justin, leaned back in his chair, wearing sunglasses that had come from nowhere. The backpack, she realized. He hadn’t left it locked up at the dive shop with her suitcase. “Nothing. Just that everyone was gone and she was leaving, too. Where are they?”
His only response was a shrug so lazy, so arrogant, that she wanted to smack him. She curled her fingers around the water bottle to make it harder to reach across the table and do just that. “Knock it off, Justin. The volunteers have fled. The girls are gone. The local employees are gone. Susanna and Trent are gone. You know damn well they wouldn’t just take off on a whim. La Casa is too important to Susanna, and she’s too important to Trent. Something has happened, and you at least have an idea what or Trent wouldn’t have told me to call you.”
Another long swig of water, another lazy shrug. “Maybe he’s trying to set us up together.”
Cate sat back. The idea was ludicrous. As if Trent would wish her on his best friend, or vice versa. As if she would willingly stay five minutes in the room with Justin if she wasn’t forced to. She didn’t like him at all, but she liked him best when he was on another continent, and Trent was well aware of that.
She loaded her voice with scorn. “Come on, Justin. Tell me what the hell is going on so I can—”
His cell phone rang, and he raised one hand impe riously to stop her while he answered it. Rude, obnoxious, self-centered. She fumed as the waiter approached and set a plate in front of each of them. Immediately her stomach growled, overriding her annoyance. It had been a long time since breakfast, and she needed to refuel in order to deal with her present company.
The seviche looked incredible; the hamburger Justin had ordered smelled even more so. She dug in, closing her eyes briefly at the first mild, sweet, spicy, limey flavors, silencing the low mmm of satisfaction that hummed through her. If she’d been with her last serious boyfriend, AJ Decker—the cop who’d gone and fallen in love with his ex-partner while Cate wasn’t looking— she would have immediately picked up another forkful and insisted he taste it. She didn’t offer Justin anything.
Silence followed his hello for a moment, then his mouth tightened. The muscles in his fingers holding the phone contracted, too. He didn’t look pleased.
Fear niggled in her belly, but it didn’t slow her eating. She wasn’t one of those people whose appetite came and went based on their emotions. Maybe it had to do with the pace of working in the E.R.; maybe it was a leftover from the frenetic medical school years, but when it was time to eat, she ate. She could do salvage work on a kid’s leg dangling by a shred after a bicycle–pickup truck run-in, then go to the break room, wash up and eat a substantial meal of spaghetti and meatballs.
Besides, this call that displeased Justin could be about any number of things other than Trent and Susanna. Someone could have dinged his Ferrari back home in Alabama. A banking mistake could have temporarily delayed a payout from one of his multiple trust funds into his checking account. The housekeeper could have forgotten to vacuum backward out of his living room so she didn’t leave footsteps behind.
Best friend or not, Trent was only a small part of the universe that revolved around Justin.
And she didn’t register in that universe at all, except as a very minor nuisance. She’d learned that years ago and would never forget.
Bracing the phone between his ear and shoulder, Justin picked up the knife and cut the burger in half, then fished off the lettuce from one half. The call hadn’t started off good: the caller ID screen had shown the number as unavailable. He rarely took those sorts of calls; with his money, his family and his reputation, there were way more people trying to contact him than he wanted to talk to. Under the circumstances, though…
The caller was a man, his voice heavily accented but easy to understand. I saw you at La Casa para Nuestras Hijas, Mr. Seavers. I was warned you might be in the vicinity.
Justin hadn’t recognized any of the men in the black sedan, but why would he? He didn’t generally hang out with thugs…though apparently he’d been somewhat friendly with men who hired thugs. How was it that he’d never heard even a hint of gossip about the seamier side of Joseph and Lucas Wallace’s activities back in the States?
Because they hired discreet thugs, he thought grimly.
“What was in the backpack you took from La Casa?”
The man’s question echoed in his head, and he worked to sound careless, more to impress Cate than the caller. He wanted rid of her, and the only way to do that was make her believe that everything was okay with Trent and Susanna. “Just stuff I need. You know, some thing to read, a change of clothes—things that don’t fit in my pockets.”
“You mean, things you took from La Casa. Things that don’t belong to you. I want them.”
Justin glanced at Cate and locked gazes with her. She was eating as if she didn’t have a care in the world, but she was also watching him shrewdly. So far, she’d believed pretty much nothing that he’d told her, and this conversation was definitely going to make her doubt him even more and make her that much more of a problem. Sliding his chair back, he left the table and walked to the low wall that separated patio from driveway. There he couldn’t smell the tantalizing burger or the seviche for the sweet heavy fragrance of yellow flowers that vined the wall.
His voice flat, he said, “Nothing in my pack belongs to you, either. What have you done with Trent and Susanna?”
“Mr. Calloway and Ms. Hunter are fine, for the moment. But that won’t last if my employers don’t recover the property Ms. Hunter took.”
That damn flash drive. Susanna hadn’t stolen the files contained on it entirely on her own. Justin had met her in the stairwell at the Wallaces’ office building, taken the drive and disappeared while she returned to the offices for a meeting with Lucas.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Justin lied. “Maybe your boss just misplaced whatever he’s missing, because I’m pretty sure Susanna would never take anything that wasn’t hers. She’s such a goody-goody.”
“We’ve searched her, Mr. Calloway and La Casa. That leaves you. Any time Ms. Hunter has problems, she turns to you, and we know you were on the island that day.”
Sensing movement behind him, Justin shifted. He half expected Cate, eavesdropping, but instead it was a tiny clubfooted bird, hopping around in search of tidbits. Cate still sat at the table, still eating, still watching him. Keeping her in his peripheral vision, he turned his gaze to the street, where one ancient
