Five minutes later, she said, "Must cost a lot of money to live here."

"I doubt it. I'm sure there are cheaper places to live in Mexico, but I don't think there's anyplace as expensive as Queens, much less Manhattan."

"Good point. I wonder how she's supporting herself. I mean, assuming..."

Her words trailed off. "Assuming what?"

"You know." She lowered her voice, so the driver wouldn't hear. "That she didn't steal the money."

"You think she did?"

Leslie shrugged. "I never did before, but now"—she indicated the luxurious hotels surrounding them—"it's hard to say."

"The people who work in Acapulco live near here, too, and not in hotels." He nodded to the taxi driver, who certainly wasn't living the high life on his income. "Doesn't mean anything."

"You're right, of course."

Of course, but the intruders who'd threatened Leslie certainly thought Marisa had the money.

Refusing to come on this trip had seemed like too cowardly a thing to do, even for him. But now he wondered if coming here was a mistake. Would his interference help lure Marisa into some trap that she'd avoided for eight years?

There was no time for second-guessing now. If it all crumbled like a Jenga tower, he'd have plenty of time for regrets later. Hadn't the last six months proved that?

Nate peered out the window as the taxi snaked up the side of a small mountain on a too-narrow road. The jarring of the little VW Beetle turned his stomach. He'd never been a good backseat rider. Every few moments, he was rewarded for his willingness to endure with a glimpse of Acapulco Bay and its deep blue water.

Luis veered to the right and came to a sudden stop. "Stay here, si?"

He stepped out of the car and had a rapid conversation in Spanish with a man standing nearby—a gatekeeper of some sort, perhaps? There seemed to be some disagreement, but a moment later, Luis climbed back in the car. "They wanted your identification, but I vouched for you."

"They wanted to see them?" Leslie asked. "Like for security?"

"They like to hold onto them, but I say no, you're okay."

Nate reached over the seat and clasped the man's shoulder. "Thank you, Luis. You're right—that would have made me uncomfortable."

Luis nodded, and Nate took his hand back.

"He say the chapel is closed until four," Luis continued, "but is okay. The gardens are muy beautiful. You will enjoy. Or you want to go and come back later?"

"We'll stay," Leslie said.

"I should wait for you?"

"Um..." Leslie looked at Nate, a question in her eyes.

"Can't hurt," he said. As long as she was footing the bill.

She turned back to the driver. "Yes, please wait."

Luis pulled forward on the small drive and parked. "I wait here. Many photos from Las Manos de la Hermandad."

"Um, okay." Leslie looked at him and shrugged. "Thanks."