“All right.” Jonas fished for his cigarettes and found with some annoyance that he’d left them in the bedroom. “I’ll need you to go with me, starting tonight, to the places Luis gives you.”

A feeling of stepping into quicksand came strongly. “Why?”

He wasn’t sure of the answer. “Because I have to start somewhere.”

“Why do you need me?”

And even less sure of this one. “I don’t know how long it’ll take, and I’m not leaving you alone.”

She lifted a brow. “I have police protection.”

“Not good enough. In any case, you know the language, the customs. I don’t. I need you.” He tucked his thumbs in his pockets. “It’s as simple as that.”

Liz walked over to turn off the coffee and move the pot to a back burner. “Nothing’s simple,” she corrected. “But I’ll get your list, and I’ll go along with you under one condition.”

“Which is?”

She folded her hands. Jonas was already certain by her stance alone that she wasn’t set to bargain but to lay down the rules. “That no matter what happens, what you find out or don’t find out, you’re out of this house and out of my life when my daughter comes home. I’ll give you four weeks, Jonas—that’s all.”

“It’ll have to be enough.”

She nodded and started out of the room. “Wash your dishes. I’ll meet you out front.”

The police car still sat in the driveway when Jonas walked out the front door. A group of children stood on the verge of the road and discussed it in undertones. He heard Liz call one of them by name before she took out a handful of coins. Jonas didn’t have to speak Spanish to recognize a business transaction. Moments later, coins in hand, the boy raced back to his friends.

“What was that about?”

Liz smiled after them. Faith would play with those same children throughout the summer. “I told them they were detectives. If they see anyone but you or the police around the house, they’re to run right home and call Captain Moralas. It’s the best way to keep them out of trouble.”

Jonas watched the boy in charge pass out the coins. “How much did you give them?”

“Twenty pesos apiece.”

He thought of the current rate of exchange and shook his head. “No kid in Philadelphia would give you the time of day for that.”

“This is Cozumel,” she said simply and wheeled out her bike.

Jonas looked at it, then at her. The bike would have sent a young teenager into ecstasies. “You drive this thing?”

Something in his tone made her want to smile. Instead, she kept her voice cool. “This thing is an excellent mode of transportation.”

“A BMW’s an excellent mode of transportation.”