Page 74 of Terminal Voyage

"Some people decide to leave their lives behind. Start over.”

"Have you investigated this case at all?" I didn't mean for it to sound as accusatory as it did.

The detective leaned back, tucked his chin, and curled his lip, offended. "As I said, there is nothing to investigate.”

"How did she get to the island?”

"I don't know how she got to the island. I don't know how she left. Can you prove that she was ever even here?”

"According to customs and her cell records, she was. How do you think she got here?”

He shrugged again. "By boat. By plane." Then he muttered, "I don't think she swam.”

I sneered at him. "No. I don't think she swam.”

“Her last text message was to her agent. Do you know what it said?”

“No. I don’t have access to her cell phone.”

This was going nowhere.

It was clear these guys weren’t the least bit interested in investigating Kate’s disappearance.

I thanked the detective for his time after scribbling my number on a piece of paper. I told him to call if there were any breaking developments.

I stepped outside, hopped on the scooter, and headed back to the marina. I turned onto King Street, then drove down to Ocean Avenue and zipped along the beach, taking in the scenery. Teal waves crashed against white sand beaches. Tourists soaked up the sun and frolicked in the warm water. It was just as hot here as it was in Puerto Maya. Maybe even a little hotter.

A storm brewed on the horizon. Dark clouds rumbled. The sunshine wouldn’t last for long.

The wind blew through my hair, and the electric motor hummed. This thing was pretty zippy.

But not as zippy as the sportbikes that came up behind me.

The riders flanked me on either side, both wearing helmets with black-out visors. One of them had a small aluminum baseball bat.

I didn't like the looks of this.

I throttled up, but the E-bike was no match for the crotch rockets.

Alongside me, the rider to my left cocked the bat and swung it hard toward my face.

I jammed the front brakes as he swung, the bat whiffing in front of my face as I slowed.

The bike stopped on a dime.

The car behind me didn't.

Tires squealed as he plowed toward me.

I twisted the throttle and spun a 180 into oncoming traffic, almost getting flattened by an oncoming truck. Its bumper was right on my ass as I throttled up. Thankfully, this little scooter went from zero tofast enoughin a heartbeat.

By that time, I put a little distance between myself and the sportbike bandits, but that wouldn’t last long.

When traffic cleared, they spun around and pegged the throttle. The engines roared, and exhausts howled.

I crouched low, trying to make my silhouette small and aerodynamic. With the throttle pinned, I weaved in and outof cars, dodging oncoming traffic as I veered across the centerline.

I did not have this on my Bingo card today.