They rode the bikes to the small run-down house in the twilight. Maggie waited at the corner under the cover of a stand of shrubs. She watched her father ride his bike to the broken sidewalk in front of the house. He looked around to see if anyone was watching, then pedaled to the front door. The place was a one-story ramshackle structure with bars protecting the windows. She’d googled the address and it popped up as a vacation rental property, so with luck the owner of the phone that pinged at the location was still there. Otherwise, the new tenant would likely be freaked out by the note.

Her dad’s back was to her, but when he turned around, she saw that he’d taped the note to the front door. He positioned the bike away from the house, gave a hard knock, then rode for his life. Maggie’s heart pounded as she watched him race away, praying he’d make it without being spotted. With only seconds to spare, he disappeared around the corner as the door opened a crack. The silhouette of a man emerged in the doorway and he removed the note.

It felt like an eternity, the man standing there a dark mass. Maggie’s father had circled around and was next to her now.

“He’s reading it,” Maggie whispered.

The man’s movements became quick, jerky. His head snapped back and forth, looking for whoever had left the note. Then he turned and went back inside, slamming the door behind him.

Maggie and her father looked at each other. Her dad was perspiring, out of breath. “Now what?” he said.

Maggie honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead.

She didn’t need to decide, because the door to the house flung open. The man was wearing a ball cap and sunglasses. He walked, head down. His gait suggested he was agitated. He said something into a cell phone.

They followed him to the main drag. It was easy to keep a safe distance. He was tall and skinny, and his hat drifted above the crowd on the main road. Sure enough, he went to the Moloko Bar, which looked different in the daylight. The place apparently didn’t open until the evening.

He waited out front, as if he were expecting someone.

Out came a woman, pretty. She wore shorts and a bikini top.

The man said something to her. She shook her head repeatedly.

“Let’s get a picture,” Maggie said. She held up the camera. It was too far away to get a clear shot, even if she zoomed.

“We need to get closer.” She got off the bike.

“No,” her father said.

“Come with me, keep your back turned. They’ll think we’re tourists.”