“So…you’ve got your payoff. Now what about the girl?”

“Yeah,” Paolo says, sounding like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I’ll take you to her.”

Chapter 23

THEO (continued)

The kid is not entirely disarmed. He has the presence of mind to ask for my gun, then searches me for a wire. It’s a rather sloppy search, though. I’ve had more invasive pat-downs from TSA. There are any number of places I could have hidden a wire.

But I’m not here to secretly record Paolo. I’m here to see if he actually knows where Paige is buried, or if he’s trying to scam me.

As he leads me all over the island, I begin to suspect it’s the latter. Paolo acts like a kid who forgot he was supposed to deliver an oral report to the class and is making it up as he goes along. Not too much farther now. Sorry, I get a little turned around in the dark. I’ve only been here in the daytime. I swear, just a few more minutes…

I say nothing, because I’m looking for signs of an ambush. That’s the only thing that makes sense to me—some of Paolo’s hidden buddies waiting to pounce on me. And by the time I wake up in the hospital, the lifeguard will have long fled the island. That’s if I’m lucky. If I’m not, I’ll end up under the sand, just like Paige Ryerson.

“It’s right over here.”

We’re at an empty stretch of beach that nobody’s gotten around to developing yet. Good palm tree cover, and an empty shack. No other inhabited buildings within shouting distance. If I’m going to be jumped and dumped, this would be the ideal place to do it.

Question is, how many punks am I going to be fighting? I’m counting on Paolo being either cheap (and hiring only one or two people) or not having many friends.

Paolo stops to turn around. “You coming, or what?”

Gradually I realize that this is not a trap, and that this lifeguard may actually know something. Paolo scans the beach, which is littered with beer bottles and cigarette butts and plastic cups—the aftermath of a party.

Paolo points at the one beer bottle that’s upside-down and sticking perfectly straight out of the sand.

“She’s here.”

Which instantly depresses me. A beer bottle for a grave marker on a strip of dirty sand? A sweet girl like Paige Ryerson didn’t deserve this. Quinn’s voice is in my head: Imagine she’s your sister. I make a silent vow to avenge her, no matter what.

Paolo looks at me expectantly. As if I’m just going to say, Don’t worry, buddy, I’ll take it from here. You go on back to the bar and have a few cold ones for me.

“I need confirmation, Paolo.”

“You didn’t say anything about digging her up.”

“Considering the number of uncut diamonds I’ve just given you, I was hoping you might throw in that service for free.”