we have a rather urgent matter we’d like to discuss with you.” When Julian didn’t respond, he explained who they were and why they were here.
“Tatum McCrae, you say?” the man repeated, making a show of ignorance. He shook his head. “I haven’t heard of her.”
He was lying. He had to be.
“We know she came to see you before she disappeared. How do you know her?” Braden demanded. “Where is she now?”
“I don’t know your sister. I don’t know anyone named Tatum McCrae. Why have you come here?”
Braden stepped forward with his picture. The two men behind Julian moved in front of him. Braden stopped, extending the picture.
The two men didn’t move to take it. And Julian put his hands on each of his henchmen’s shoulders, who stepped aside to make room for him. Julian stepped, closer to Braden and Arizona. Removing his sunglasses and holding them in his hand, his dark, fathomless gaze drifted down and up Arizona, and then shifted to meet Braden’s indomitable eyes.
But Julian wasn’t affected. “You came here for nothing.”
Braden continued to stare at the man.
“And unless I tell you it’s all right to come to my home, I suggest you stay away. Next time I won’t wait to ask questions.”
“Where is my sister?” Braden asked again.
“This is the last warning you’ll get. Leave now. Never come back.”
Another stare down commenced, Julian mocking, Braden calculating.
“Let’s go.” Arizona had a bad feeling about this.
After a few tugs on his arm, Braden went with her back to the cab, looking back at the villa until it vanished from sight. Dust billowed up from the dirt road. Flowering evergreen trees and a variety of others, perhaps white cedar and mango, gave the illusion of paradise.
When they reached the gate, two Jeeps waited just inside, angled toward the road. Four men stood outside of the vehicles, all of them armed. They each held some sort of automatic weapon, the barrels long and pointed to the ground at the moment. Around their waists, pistols hung.
Fear shot into Arizona as the driver began to slow.
“Don’t stop,” Braden said.
Arizona could hear the driver breathing and his eyes were round, the green of them stark against his dark skin and the whites of his eyes.
“They must want us to drive through the gate,” she said, trying to calm him.
He drove past. The men outside the Jeeps moved as they did, facing their departure. But then they all climbed inside the Jeeps.
The taxicab driver’s eyes remained wide as he looked into the rearview mirror.
“Drive faster,” Braden said from the backseat.
The driver complied, as eager as them to get away. The dust cloud behind them rose higher.
The cab fishtailed around a turn and raced up a hill. On the other side was Soper’s Hole. Cresting the hill, it came into view.
The Jeeps stopped at the top of the hill. Arizona waited for gunfire. None came. She waited for them to chase them again. They didn’t.
“They’re not following.” Why weren’t they?
The driver slowed as they reached town. Then he pulled into a gas station and parked.
“Get out,” he said.
Braden tried to pay him but he waved his hand. “Get out. You walk from here.”
She and Braden did as the driver asked. When the taxi drove away, she said, “Gave him a pretty good scare.”
“Julian Blake gave him the scare.” He turned to her, each thinking the same thing. Why? Why was Julian Blake someone to fear on this island?
He started walking toward the center of Soper’s Hole. She jogged to catch up to him and then walked beside him on the sidewalk. Five minutes later they reached the busy town center. It was clean and beautiful. The street wasn’t in very good condition, but cars parked along the side and the sidewalk was dotted with black streetlamps. Big flowerpots were placed between, and multicolored, wooden benches offered seating along storefronts. People entered into and emerged from shops, walked along the street, talking, smiling, peering into store windows.
Then those that weren’t tourists began to take notice of them. At first Arizona thought she was mistaken. Why would they single them out? A man leaning against the enclave of the entrance to a gift shop puffed a cigarette as they passed, his dark eyes following them eerily. Two women sitting at one of two tables on the patio of a café spoke quietly together between glances at them.
A dark blue Cadillac slowed on the street, rolling beside them on the other side of parked cars. The window moved down. Crawford was driving. Why was he here?
“Everything all right?” he asked.
When she and Braden stopped walking, he stopped the car.
“We were just chased off Blake’s property,” Braden said.
Crawford looked from him to Arizona as though digesting that announcement. “Why don’t you both get in the car?”
Braden touched his hand to Arizona’s back and opened the back door for her. She climbed in and he got into the front passenger’s seat.
Crawford began to drive. “I can appreciate your concern for your sister, Mr. McCrae, but I’m going to have to ask that you leave the investigation to me.”
“His goons had guns,” Braden retorted.
“The more stormy weather you stir up, the harder it will be for me to do my job.”
Braden didn’t argue.
“I understand you feel helpless and you need to do something. Time is of the essence. But I assure you, I’m doing everything I can to find Tatum. Tortola is a quiet community. A safe community. I intend to do my part to keep it that way.”
“Are you going to talk to the hotel manager?” Braden asked.
“I just left there. And he explained what I suspected. Most around here like to leave Julian Blake alone. They prefer not to have any contact with the man.”
“Why is that?” Arizona asked. “Don’t you think that’s strange?”
“No one will ever say Julian is a friendly fellow. But that doesn’t make him a criminal. He prefers seclusion. Many come to islands like this for that reason.”
“But he has armed guards,” Arizona argued.
“I have seen no evidence of that. He is good at concealing his activities.”
Hearing the detective’s frustration, Arizona
