Could it be possible? Matthew Quinn is a genius and all—probably the most impressive mind Otto has ever encountered. But maybe Quinn had it wrong. Maybe the girl wasn’t buried in the sand somewhere.

Maybe she was hiding.

Chapter 15

THEO (THE TRADER)

With Paolo stuck on the island (since he lost his getaway dough), I turn my attention to the next creep on the list: Nigel James, the islander cop.

Now, you have to understand something about me: I love messing with police. I consider it a form of karmic payback. The uniforms who arrested me all those years back took a little too much pleasure in snapping the metal cuffs around my wrists and slamming me into the nearest wall.

I was arrested on suspicion of insider trading, for Pete’s sake (not that I’m admitting any wrongdoing). It’s not like I was the Zodiac Killer. The violence and condescension were uncalled for.

So, yeah, I admit…I’ve been looking for excuses to return the favor ever since.

“Detective James! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Nigel James looks at me through narrowed eyes. “Who are you?”

“Ted Selznick, special investigator with the New Hampshire State Police. While I’m sad to be down here, given the circumstances, I’ve gotta say it’s nice to be away from all that snow for a while.”

But Detective James does not want to take part in a conversation about the lousy weather in New Hampshire, or beautiful sun down here on the islands. He’s all business in his lightweight suitcoat, jeans, white Oxford, loafers, and very expensive tie. Hard to believe he’s here alone. The man is a dark-skinned god, impossibly handsome, and has the muscles of a man who spends more time in a gym than he does sleeping.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Selznick?”

“That’s Trooper Specialist Selznick, technically, but let’s not get bogged down over titles. Is there somewhere quiet we can talk?”

Mind you, James and I were standing on a fairly empty stretch of beach. Before I approached him, he was sitting on a wicker lounge chair, staring at the ocean, eating seafood salad out of a plastic container. We had all the privacy you could want. But I wanted to see if James was spending his lunch hour here for a specific reason.

“We can talk here. May I see some identification, Special Trooper Selznick?”

Eh, close enough. But I have the feeling James is mangling it on purpose. He seems like the type who pays close attention to the details.

I flip open the leather badge holder with the state ID. I’m sure James has been interviewed by more than a few federal agents over the past few days. I want to present myself as someone from an agency he wouldn’t be familiar with.

“I understand you were the last person to see Paige Ryerson alive.”

“As I’ve told countless others, Trooper Selznick, I don’t know if that’s true. I did meet Ms. Ryerson late Friday evening, but when we parted she was headed back to the party to join her friends. I offered to escort her, but she refused my assistance.”