He forced his gaze back to Ana, who had met up with the girl from the pool the day before. They were building a sand castle. "I've been thinking about it, and Leslie has no choice. She needs to go to the police."

"But the people said they'd kill her if she did."

"They said they'd kill her if she didn't give them the money, too. And she doesn't have it."

Marisa finished her legs and worked lotion into her arm. The scent of coconut surrounded them and reminded Nate of vacations with his parents when he was a small boy, before cancer had stolen his mother away.

"But that's not really what they said," Marisa said. "They said they wanted her to give them the money or find out who stole it."

"Well, but..." He paused. She was right. That's what Leslie had said. "Why would they care, as long as they get the money?"

She held out the sunscreen, and he took it.

A second application, and he'd probably still burn to a crisp, thanks to his Irish genes. He'd bought himself a baseball cap in town, so at least his face wouldn't char.

"Maybe it's about justice, too," she said.

"If that's the case, that should help us narrow down who it could be."

"Meanwhile, though, my sister's life is in danger. We have to figure out how to protect her."

"And keep you and Ana safe."

"But if I keep us safe, Leslie will be in more danger." She looked at her daughter. "It's an impossible choice, Nate. How do I protect them both?"

He knew exactly how she felt.

* * *

AFTER A SHOWER AND shave, Nate went to the small lobby—the only place in the hotel with reliable WiFi. The old walls had been repainted bright white. The pink and aqua furnishings had faded to bland. The lobby was cool, and the faint scent of flowers wafted from the fresh centerpiece on the amoeba-shaped coffee table in front of him. A few women in sundresses and men in Bermuda shorts sat in the bar on the far side of the lobby, where a hand-written sign advertised happy hour specials. In the seating areas scattered around the lobby, more people sat, teens and children and adults alike, all looking at their electronic devices. So much for family vacations.

While Nate waited for the ladies to join him for dinner, he used his iPhone to pull up the news stories he'd written that had been prompted by Marisa's information. Nearly eight years had passed since he'd penned the words. After re-reading the articles, Nate navigated to his cloud account and scrolled through the research he'd collected back then, which he'd thought to upload before they left New York.

The door that led to the pool opened, and Leslie walked in, bringing the humid evening air with her. She spotted Nate, beelined toward him, and sat on the sofa catty-corner to him. "You look busy."