If I worked in Miami, I’d want to live on Key Biscayne, though as we started passing houses, I knew I could never afford it. There were probably less expensive areas, but I didn’t see a house that would sell for under a million. Even the hotels looked out of my price range.

Benicio lived on the waterfront, of course. The homes on the large, secluded lots weren’t mansions, but I was sure it had to be one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in Florida.

Lucas pulled into the drive of a house set back and partially obscured by forest. The eight-foot fence looked merely decorative, but Lucas stopped to talk into a tree, which I presume discreetly held an intercom.

After a moment, he glanced at Paige, as if saying something. Karl rolled down his window as Lucas turned back to the intercom.

“Is he having trouble?” I asked.

“No one’s answering.”

I put my window down and inhaled. It even smelled different than Miami, the warm air not quite so humid, the smog gone. A breeze fluttered past, rich with the scent of some heady tropical flower. It was so still and quiet I could hear water lapping against the beach, at least a quarter mile down the winding drive.

Lucas got out of the car. We joined him as he examined the intercom. Karl took a look, but it wasn’t his area of expertise, so he focused on something that was—the secured gate.

Paige got out too, waving her cell phone. “No answer from your father, but he might just be busy.”

“I’ll call the duty guards,” Lucas said.

“Is the gate usually guarded?” I asked Paige.

“It isn’t manned, but there are guards who patrol the yard. One during the day. Two at night. That’s who Lucas is calling.”

The distant symphonic ring of a cell phone started. We peered into the darkness, trying to pinpoint the sound.

“It’s near the house,” Karl said as he walked back. “The gate’s still secured.”

The ringing stopped.

“Voice mail,” Lucas said as he hung up. He looked more puzzled than concerned. My first thought was that this was the gang’s target. But Lucas would have recognized the blueprints, and the locked gate meant no one had broken in.

“Is the fence electrified?” I asked.

Lucas shook his head. “My father prefers to handle intruders more discreetly. It’s wired to an alarm system that would alert the guards.”

As he headed back to the car, Paige said, “Please don’t tell me you’re going to ram the gate.”

A tiny smile. “Nothing so dramatic.”

He pulled the car up alongside the fence.

“Ah, a step stool,” Paige said.