He turned the truck in at every public-beach parking lot, scanning to look for any clues of a homeless encampment. But the parking lots were mostly asphalt and concrete—not a really welcome spot to spend the night. All Joe saw were happy, sunburned beachgoers, trudging to and from their cars in the late-morning sunshine.

It was an exercise in futility, he decided, but then he remembered Tiki Gardens. It had started as a family-owned gift shop with a small adjoining garden, and then morphed into an improbable but typical Florida tourist trap—a Polynesian-themed attraction complete with monolithic carved tiki gods and a tropical bird show. The original owners sold out to out-of-town developers in the late eighties, but when Florida’s roller-coaster boom and bust economy took a nosedive, the property was eventually sold to the county in 1990.

Joe could remember wandering the palm-lined paths of the gardens on school field trips, tossing peanuts to the caged monkeys and listening to the unearthly screeches of the peacocks that roamed the grounds. After the gardens were plowed under and the birds and monkeys rehomed and the Polynesian kitsch was sold off, he’d never forgotten the sight of the largest tiki god, Ku, being carted away on the back of a flatbed truck.

The county had kept a toned-down facsimile of the original Tiki Gardens roadside sign, but now the place was just a public-beach-access parking lot.

He drove a couple of miles down the beach and turned in to the lot. He’d grudgingly admit the county had done a decent job of landscaping the entry—if you didn’t know better, maybe you’d actually expect to see a howler monkey hanging off one of the coconut palms.

But you’d be sadly disappointed, Joe thought. Small islands of landscaping were spotted throughout the property, but mostly the place was a sea of late-model cars with out-of-state license plates.

Even the hardiest homeless man would find it tough to find enough cover to camp out at Tiki Gardens these days. Feeling dejected, he pulled back onto Gulf Boulevard and headed north.

42

AS SOON AS VIKKI HILL walked into the office, Letty could tell by the grim expression on her face that she had bad news.

“Just tell me,” she said quietly, closing out the reservation form on the computer monitor.

“Wingfield is balking at our terms. He wants Maya delivered to him. My people think it’s too risky to try to do this down here. They want us to go back to New York for the exchange. Hate to say it, but I agree. I’ve booked tickets on a flight for tomorrow morning. We’ll have tighter control of the situation.…”

“No.”

Vikki blinked. “It’s not really your call.”

“Actually, it is,” Letty said, her tone much calmer than the roil in her gut.