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After a brief nap, Mike changed into his swim trunks and spent time boogie boarding in the ocean. I stayed behind underneath the sunshade, reading my book and occasionally wading in the shallows to cool off. By the time he returned, I was sitting crisscross applesauce, with a nice little collection of flat white scallop shells and a few small pink conchs spread around me. Dripping wet, he shook all over me like a dog.
“Mike!” I squealed, turning my face away from the flying water.
He laughed, grabbing a towel. “Whatcha got there?”
I removed my sunglasses and wiped off the drops with the tail of my T-shirt. “Just a few mementos from the sea. How was your swim?”
“Fabulous. Maybe by tomorrow your injuries will be doing better and you can go in.”
“I hope so. Your phone has been binging and buzzing for the past few minutes. You’d better check it out.”
I held the phone out to him. As he read through the assortment of texts, a frown settled on his face.
“Now what?” I asked.
“It seems that Craig is a rather smart young man. He managed to elude our efforts at the airports, train, and bus stations by renting a motorboat.”
“A boat! Well—but weren’t you watching the marinas?”
He gave a snort. “Do you have any idea how many marinas there are between here and Playa del Carmen?”
“Lots?”
“Lots and lots. We’ve been watching his credit cards.”
“Well, he can’t be that smart if he used a credit card,” I scoffed.
“To the contrary, he stole a wallet off of a very inebriated young man who looks rather similar to our friend Craig. The man reported the theft to local police half an hour ago, and we got a hit on one of his credit cards.”
“At the marina where Craig rented the boat?”
“Yes.”
“I suppose that’s good. How long ago did he rent the boat?”
Mike glared at me. “Three hours.”
“Oh? Do you think he’s taking the boat to the Bahamas?”
“That is the hope.” His gaze returned to the phone.
“Well, you’ll either catch him when he gasses up at the next stop, or when he gets to the Bahamas to get his money out of the bank,” I reasoned. “What? What’s that look for?”
“The FBI froze the account.”
“In the Bahamas? Wasn’t that the plan?”
“There’s only five thousand dollars in it.”
I sucked wind. “What happened to the rest? Did he already access the account before you were able to lock it down?”
Mike shook his head. “There haven’t been any transactions on the account since it was opened a year ago, when the original five thousand was deposited.”
“So . . . Craig lied about the amount? I don’t get it.”
His jaw flexed.
“Mike?”
“Either he never had a hundred thousand, or this is an account he opened with plans to use it at a later date,” he said with frustration.
“Like the next time he got paid for a theft.”
“Precisely.”
“So, the question now becomes—does he actually have a bunch of money stashed away and, if so, where is it?” When Mike didn’t respond, I continued, “There are an awful lot of little islands in the Caribbean with banks where he could have left it.”
He grimaced and stared hard at me. “It’s almost uncanny how you speak the exact words I’m thinking.”
“Can he get to any of those islands without stopping for gas?”
“Surveillance video showed Craig loading extra tanks of gas aboard before shipping out.”
“Oh, boy.” I grimaced. “How far can he get on those tanks?”
“Further than I’d like.”
Mike tossed the phone down on the lounger in disgust.
“Does this mean your vacation is over? Do you have to go to work?”
He let out a puff of air and scratched his chin. “No. There are other agents working on it now. They are keeping me informed as a courtesy.”
I drummed my fingers against my leg. “Are you going to be able to relax if you’re not a part of it?”
“It’s probably better if I do stay out of it.” He slid onto the lounger next to my array of seashells and distractedly fidgeted with one of the conchs.
“Hmm,” I said as I licked my lips. “I can probably think of some things to do that would take your mind off of it.” Interested, he looked up from the shells. “But we have to leave the beach. I wouldn’t want to get arrested for indecent exposure. It probably wouldn’t look good on your resume either.” I winked.
In a quick movement, Mike swept the shells into my beach bag and tossed the rest of our items in after them willy-nilly.
“Mike! My shells!” I cried, reaching for the bag.
He held the bag away and gave me a hard kiss. “I’ll get you more tomorrow. C’mon.”
I laughingly gave in and allowed him to pull me off the lounger.