Every Breath You Take (Second Opportunities 4)

After a significant delay, Orly answered MacNeil’s call, sounding so harassed that his sentences ran together. is Mr. Orly I’m sorry to have kept you waiting How may I be of service?”

is Philip Wainwright,” MacNeil lied, trying to sound authoritative and, at the same time, willing to overlook Orly’s earlier screwups during the check-in procedure if he cooperated now. “When my wife and I were on our way to breakfast, we met a young woman who remembered us from when we were here before. My wife and I both recall spending an enjoyable evening with her last spring, and we’d like to invite her to have cocktails on the beach with us later, but we cannot—for the life of us—recall her name. She has red hair and she mentioned she’s staying in villa number six. What the devil is her name, anyway?”

’m very sorry, Mr. Wainwright, but it’s strictly against hotel policy to reveal the identity of a guest to anyone.”

am not just ‘anyone,’ I’m another guest!” MacNeil exclaimed indignantly.

hotel’s policy applies to other guests, as well as to outsiders.”

me speak to Maurice,” MacNeil demanded, knowing the manager was absent. ’ve known him for years, and he won’t hesitate to tell me who she is!”

The assistant manager hesitated. is away . . . however, if you’re certain he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you . . .”

MacNeil smiled to himself as he heard the sound of pages being flipped back and forth, but Orly’s next words were frustrating, rather than informative. number six is registered to a gentleman, and there is no indication of the lady’s name. I’m sorry, but I have another phone call—”

’s the gentleman’s name in villa six?” MacNeil said quickly. might jog our memory.”

name is Bartlett, and I don’t mean to be rude, but I really must answer another call now.”

?” Childress asked expectantly.

MacNeil turned off his cell phone and slipped it back into his pocket. number six is registered to a gentleman named ‘Bartlett,’ ” MacNeil replied, repeating Orly’s words. is no indication of the lady’s name.”

Traffic on the island moved at a lazy pace, and the black convertible was mired in it, less than a quarter mile ahead. ’ll bet you Wyatt is heading for Blowing Point,” Childress predicted, referring to the wharf where ferries and charter boats picked up passengers and returned them to the island. A minute later, the black convertible’s right turn signal began to flash. , I was right—Wyatt is heading for Blowing Point and we’re in for another damned boat ride. I’m already getting nauseated.”

a pill.”

can’t take them, they make me groggy.”

you should have taken one last night, instead of hanging over the edge of the boat, barfing your brains out.”

you report in to the state’s attorney today, you tell Elliott that if I have to sleep on a boat tonight because the yacht Wyatt is on is out in the middle of a harbor, then we need a bigger boat—one that doesn’t bob like a cork every time there’s a ripple in the water. I don’t mind being seasick for half an hour when we chase him from island to island, but I can’t do my job when I’ve been up all damned night blowing chunks.”

That last remark doused most of MacNeil’s amusement, because Childress was truly superb at vehicular surveillance. Behind a steering wheel, Childress could maneuver through any kind of traffic, darting and ducking in and out of it, without attracting any notice. He also had an almost uncanny knack of knowing when he needed to close the distance between Wyatt’s vehicle in order to see where Wyatt was about to go, and when it was safe to drop far back and stay completely out of Wyatt’s rearview mirror.

Because of that, Childress did most of the driving on land, while MacNeil handled piloting their boat. As a precaution, they rented different cars and different boats each day, but MacNeil was far more confident of Childress’s ability to handle his job than he was of his own ability to pilot a boat larger than the twenty-four-foot outboard fishing craft they were using today.

big is the boat Wyatt is using today?” Childress asked as he flipped on his right turn indicator.

don’t know—thirty-six feet, maybe thirty-eight feet.”

I have to sleep on a boat again, I want one that size.” He waited until Mac finally looked directly at him and said, ’m not kidding, Mac.”

MacNeil opened his mouth to make a joke but bit it back. Beads of sweat were already popping out on Childress’s forehead at the mere anticipation of another boat ride, and beneath his newly acquired tan, Childress’s skin was turning a grayish-green. Rather than admit he didn’t think he could handle a larger boat, MacNeil said, left his luggage at the hotel in St. Maarten this morning. I don’t think he plans to sleep on Benedict’s yacht tonight.”

Chapter Fourteen

THE WHARF ATBlowing Point was bustling with activity. Two catamarans flying brightly colored flags and loaded with tourists were pulling away from the dock, and more tourists were lined up to board the regular ferry that ran back and forth between Anguilla and St. Maarten at half-hour intervals.

Mitchell found a parking space near the far end of the wharf where the boat he had chartered was tied up, its captain standing on the bow, smoking a cigarette. hope Max is as willing to follow you onto a boat as he was to follow you into a car,” he said, opening Kate’s door and helping her out. Leaning into the backseat, he picked up the end of the dog’s makeshift leash. ’s shaking all over.”

’s nervous,” Kate said sympathetically. Patting the side of her leg, she called, here, Max, let’s—”

The big dog erupted from the backseat in a frenzied leap that nearly knocked her over. Laughing, she staggered backward, recovered her balance, and reached for his leash.

me hold on to that until we get him on the boat,” Mitchell said. Wrapping the end of the necktie-leash around his hand for better control, he tightened his grip; but he needn’t have worried, because once the dog’s feet were firmly on the ground, Max sidled up next to Kate and trotted happily beside her. you always been able to tame wild beasts, or is Max an exception?” Mitchell asked half seriously.

isn’t completely wild,” Kate said, scratching Max behind his ears. may have been running loose his whole life, but he likes humans, which means that he was around someone who played with him and handled him when he was a little puppy. If that weren’t true—if he hadn’t been ‘socialized’ back then—he wouldn’t want anything to do with us now.” She shot Mitchell an apologetic look and explained, best friend and former roommate is a vet.”