Hannah, feeling a little guilty, tries to reassure her sister. “Don’t worry. We’ll be there soon, and we’ll know for sure.”

Brooke frowns. “I don’t know why we didn’t just call the police right away and tell them what happened. They’d have to understand. None of it was our fault.…”

Hannah takes her sister by the shoulders and refuses to let go until she finally makes eye contact.

“Listen to me. We did the right thing. Some people would like nothing more than to use this to embarrass or hurt Dad. We’re not going to let them.”

At the airport, the twins are met by two vehicles. One is a private limousine, white, chartered to Paul Clee & Partners. A uniformed driver pops out from behind the wheel the moment the girls clear the gate. He is efficient and the girls barely notice him. They don’t ask for ID because why would they? Strangers have been taking care of them their entire lives.

The other vehicle, parked thirty feet behind the limo, is a rented SUV, also white. But this second vehicle is not under the employ of Paul Clee & Partners.

Then again, neither is their limo driver.

Chapter 32

OTTO AND JANA

Otto Hazard, in his crisp white uniform, uses the limousine intercom to ask the girls where they’d like to go. “The hotel, to check your bags? Or perhaps a quick stop at Calico Jack’s?”

Annoyed, Hannah stabs the intercom button. “Just go east on Leeward Highway. I’ll let you know when to turn.”

“Yes, miss, my pleasure.”

The intercom connection is severed. Or at least, that’s what Hannah and Brooke Clee believe. Any conversations the girls have will be heard clearly by Otto—and Jana Rose, who is following in the white SUV. A hidden digital video camera is also running, capturing everything that happens in the back of the limo and instantly uploading it to the Stingrays’ private servers. For instance, there is this exchange:

“This is going to suck.”

“Don’t flake out on me now, Brooke.”

“I’m not! I just don’t want to see her again.”

“Will you shut up? I don’t want the driver hearing any of this.”

“Hannah, that guy can barely speak English. Did you look at him? Um, Neanderthal much?”

Otto smiles. Over his Bluetooth earpiece, he hears Jana’s laugh.

“I’m sorry, Otto, but Brooke Clee has said what we’ve all been thinking.”

“Nah, she’s just playing. I’ll bet she thinks Neanderthals are foxy.”

“Keep sharp. We’re approaching the beach.”

“Neanderthal out.”

After their late-morning swim, the Stingrays had returned to the suite to discover that Quinn had left them all simple instructions. Otto and Jana’s list read:

1. FOLLOW THE TWINS

2. RECORD THE TWINS

3. LISTEN TO THE TWINS

Their collective afternoon was busy with an insane amount of detail work—which happened to be the kind of work they did best. Otto, however, was eager to finish this whole thing so they could maybe kick back and relax over a proper meal.