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Chapter Six

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Every moment I spent in Mexico got better and better.

Upon arrival, I was met by the shuttle driver for the resort. Handing me an ice-cold bottle of water, he relieved me of my luggage and escorted me to the air-conditioned bus, where two couples were also waiting to be taken to the resort. The water and air conditioning provided a relief from the steamy tropical heat that didn’t mix well with the combined scent of jet fuel and exhaust from the waiting taxis and busses.

The smell greatly improved at the resort, where ocean breezes sent the palm trees swaying, and the fragrance of sand and salt enveloped me. Even though I arrived at noon, my room was ready, and a porter carried my luggage as he escorted me to it. After unpacking, I ate a delicious lunch of ceviche in their five-star restaurant, then changed and headed to the pool for a few hours to soak up some rays and drink some rum. At the swim-up bar, I met a friendly couple from Spain, and a foursome of twenty-something party boys from Cincinnati who tried to talk me into doing tequila shots with them. I declined, sticking with my piña colada. I enjoyed an afternoon of harmless flirtation with the crew.

At four, I headed over to the spa for my massage. An hour later, I came out loose as a spaghetti noodle, and took a nap. Refreshed from the relaxing day, I donned my new peach sundress and headed down to the lounge for a drink, where I found the couple from Spain, Marietta and Adrian. They kindly invited me to join them for dinner. We shared an appetizer of calamari, then I ate fish tacos, and Marietta and I splurged on flan. Afterward, we hung out in the disco, dancing and drinking mojitos. Around eleven, I pleaded fatigue and headed upstairs.

Arriving in my room, I kicked aside my wedge-heeled sandals and flopped onto my luxurious pillow-topped king-sized bed, tired but happy. Everyone was right, I needed this trip. My cell phone rang, and I pulled it from the little beaded handbag lying beside me.

“Hello.”

“Karina? It’s Mildred Thundermuffin.”

The lethargy from my happy little buzz disappeared, and I bolted upright. “Hi, Mrs. Thundermuffin. It’s good to hear from you.”

“I hope it’s not too late to be calling. I tried reaching you earlier, but I kept getting your voice mail.” Mrs. Thundermuffin sounded much calmer and less harried than the last time we spoke. There was no background noise, and our connection quite clear.

“I’m sorry, I was at a disco. I must not have heard the phone ringing over the music.”

“I figured you might be out enjoying the nightlife.” She paused. “Did you bring the box?”

Uh, no. “Yup.”

“You didn’t have any problems in customs?”

This would have been the moment to cut bait and tell her the truth about Rodrigo. I have no idea why I continued the obfuscation. “No problems. Why? Were you expecting there to be?”

“One never knows in this country,” she said cryptically.

“Well, they didn’t check my luggage.” And I now silently prayed they wouldn’t check Rodrigo’s luggage either. “When do you want to meet up?” If she said tomorrow, I already had a lie planned out and would suggest another day—after Rodrigo arrived.

“Well, I thought, since you’re here, we could meet at a wonderful tourist spot. Have you ever heard of the famous Mayan ruins of Chichén Itzá?”

“Yes, of course. I’d been planning to take one of the resort excursions there. I went with my parents when I was little, I can barely remember it. I know my friend Rodrigo, who is arriving tomorrow, would love to see it. He mentioned it was on his bucket list.”

“Then you won’t mind visiting it again? Good. How about Monday?”

Silently, I let out a sigh of relief. “Monday is perfect.” Monday would also relieve me of this little albatross around my neck earlier in my trip, allowing me to stop worrying about it.

“I’ll send a driver to pick you up at your hotel at eight. You and your friend can explore the grounds first, then we’ll meet at the base of the Castillo at twelve-thirty. We can go to lunch at the Casa de Chichen, a lovely little café. If you haven’t finished exploring the grounds, you can return after we eat. How does that sound?”

“Quite lovely. How will I know the car?”

“He’ll have a sign with your name. But I will also give him a letter written by me. Do not get in the car until you read the letter. In it you will find the phrase, ‘Don’t forget your white hat and sunscreen.’ If there is no letter, or you receive a letter without that phrase, do not get in the car. Understand?”

Mrs. Thundermuffin sounded a wee bit paranoid, but I supposed bad things did happen to unsuspecting tourists. On the flight, I’d read an article about the rise of kidnappings in Mexico. The State Department had travel warnings on practically every providence in the country. I had no interest in foolishly getting into a car with a kidnapper, so I supposed her letter made sense.

“Yes, I get it. Anything else?”

“I don’t think so, dearie. I look forward to seeing you on Monday.”

“If I need to reach you beforehand, is this the number I should contact?”

“Yes, this number should be working until then. Remember the code. ‘Don’t forget your white hat and sunscreen.’”

“White hat. Sunscreen. Gotcha. See you soon.”

The line went dead, and while Mrs. Thundermuffin’s—I simply couldn’t think of her as Mildred—demeanor over the phone seemed tranquil, I couldn’t determine if her concerns were for me or the package I carried for her.

Had I not been filled with a bellyful of mojitos, I probably would have stayed up half the night fretting over that question. Instead, the booze worked its charm. After checking my messages—three from Mrs. T., and a text from Mike wishing me well and sending his love—I tossed the phone on the bedside table, changed into my jammies, and zonked out.

I woke around seven with a mild headache—probably due to dehydration more than the booze.

Okay, it might have been the booze.

I sucked down one of the complimentary bottled waters the hotel kindly left in the little bar area and decided to order room service. Sometime in the night, a kind soul had slipped the resort’s newsletter under my door. Activities included water volleyball, a sandcastle contest, poolside trivia, and other games throughout the day. One activity caught my eye; at nine, they had yoga on the beach. I changed into a tank top and shorts, and after my continental breakfast of yogurt, fruit, coffee, and croissant, I headed to the beach for some stretching.

An hour and a half later, I returned to my room and almost dropped my freshly squeezed orange juice as I stood in the doorway.