Page 112 of Sunburned

I shook my head. “You’ll be more useful to me watching the cameras somewhere nearby.”

“I don’t have access—”

“I do. I can log you in,” I said.

He unlocked his phone and handed it to me.

“Will you drive me there now?” I asked, navigating to the site where the camera feed was hosted. “The police aren’t gonna be happy that I left without answering all their questions. I get the feeling I’m on borrowed time until they issue a warrant for my arrest.”

He started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

“Thanks for not trying to stop me,” I said as I logged in with the credentials Tyson had given me.

“I trust you know what you’re doing,”he said, glancing at me. “And also, you do not seem like a person who can be told no.”

I laughed. “No.”

He made a sharp turn onto a street that plunged at a death-defying angle toward the beach, and my stomach dropped in anticipation of what I was about to attempt. I appreciated that he trusted I knew what I was doing—but truthfully, I didn’t. I never went into dangerous situations without a blueprint, and here I was, walking straight into thelion’s den with no plan beyond seeing what I could find. I knew I should have a better strategy, but I didn’t have time to come up with one.

I scanned through the feed of the cameras at Le Rêve, watching Jennifer and Cody arrive and enter the house.

I needed to get into Jennifer and Cody’s suite, which meant waiting for them to emerge. “This may take a while,” I said, handing Laurent his phone.

“Okay,” he said as he brought the Land Rover to a halt in front of a row of green-roofed bungalows that hugged the street. He pointed to the hillside beyond. “The house is on top of the hill, five down. It has big concrete pillars. You can go in through Tyson’s patio.”

I nodded. “Got it.”

“I’ll park just past the gate and watch the cameras. How will I know if you need help?”

“The feed has sound, so you’ll be able to hear me,” I said. “And I can text you. But if I’m in a situation where I can’t, and I throw up a peace sign, call the police.”

“I’ll text you if I see anything.That’s the best place to cut through,” he said, pointing between two houses. “Please”—he caught my hand, forcing me to look at him—“be careful.”

Impulsively, I leaned in and kissed him. He cupped the back of my head and I savored the sensation of his lips lingering against mine. “I’ll see you soon,” I promised, pulling away before desire could override my intention.

Casting a glance around to make sure no one was watching, I jumped down from the car and slipped behind a truck parked on the concrete pad between two of the houses. As Laurent drove away, I peered over the waist-high cinderblock wall beyond, wishing I had better footwear than the borrowed too-big flip-flops. The drop from the top of the wall to the ground was perhaps seven feet, but at least the landing would be in soft dirt that had slid down the hill to rest against the wall.

I pulled off the Havaianas and tossed them over, then jumped up ontop of the wall and held on to the edge, lowering my feet until I dangled a foot off the ground. My fingers scraped over the rough surface as I released my grip and landed harder than I’d expected, immediately falling backward in the uneven soil.

I surveyed the hill, plotting my path through the tangled underbrush as I slipped the flip-flops back onto my feet and brushed myself off.

Sticking close to the thick row of bushes atop the retaining walls of the houses that backed up to the mountain, I scrambled over rocks in my flimsy footwear, picking through spiny branches that grasped at my hair and clothes. It was slow going, my ankles buckling as loose stones slid beneath my weight, my exposed forearms stinging with the scratches of coarse-leaved shrubs.

From below, it was nearly impossible to tell the difference between the mansions that towered above me, anchored by massive concrete pillars that plunged into the earth, and I had to stop to count the houses more than once.

As I scrabbled upward, grabbing roots and trunks to hoist myself, I lost a sandal. I kicked the other one off and kept going, fighting my way through the underbrush to the rocky dirt beneath the house, my bare feet slipping in the loose topsoil as I climbed.

But when I finally reached the top of the hill, exhausted and covered in dust, my head wound smarting, I saw that the railing of the outdoor hallway was a good eight feet above me, out of my reach. My only option was to continue up the hill toward the patio off Tyson’s room and hope his door was unlocked.

Outside the shadow of the house, the dry brush was so thick that it was easy to haul myself up, but the trade-off was the abrasion of the prickly branches. I groaned as a long bougainvillea thorn lodged itself in my heel, and when I released my hold on the bush I was grasping, one of its limbs snapped back, swatting me in the face.

My skin smarted and my eye stung, watering so profusely that I could hardly see to pull the thorn out of my foot. As I removed the barb from my throbbing heel and surveyed the hill ahead of me, arooster crowed close by, and I startled, almost tumbling back down the slope.

When at long last I reached the waist-high wall that surrounded Tyson’s patio, I scrambled over, into an entirely different world. Soft green grass grew through the spaces between the large square paving stones and tropical plants bloomed in the well-tended beds that surrounded the pristine white couches. I had to stop myself from shedding my clothes and diving into the gurgling fountain, instead plunging only my feet and hands into the water.

Once I’d splashed my face and scrubbed the dirt from my feet, I could see how deep the puncture from the thorn was, a steady drip of blood oozing from the wound. I dried my hands on my shirt and pressed my heel into my shorts, slowing the blood flow. It needed attention, but I had nothing to wrap it with, and I needed to keep moving.

As I approached the door to Tyson’s room with my weight on the ball of my foot, I could feel the blood trickling down my instep. The reflection in the glass showed a wild woman, leaves in my hair, my skin and clothes streaked with dirt and blood. I raked the debris from my hair with my fingers and, saying a silent prayer, turned the door handle.

---