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Daniel’s gone.
There’s a crowd gathered at the Tiki Palms when I arrive, and I’m surprised to see Logan behind the bar. Shoes aren’t allowed inside—as per Thai custom—so I slip my sandals off and leave them in a pile with the other guests’. I wait until Logan’s attention is focused on a group of girls placing a large drink order, then head to the staircase in the back corner of the restaurant. It’s blocked by a sign that readsUPPER LEVEL CLOSED FOR STAFF MEETING, which I deftly skirt around before tiptoeing up the stairs.
I spent ten minutes searching every side road and alley weaving through Kumvit, trying to ignore the nerves fluttering in my stomach when I imagined how exactly I would confront Daniel. But ultimately, I didn’t see any sign of him. Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t want to be found.
I headed back to the resort, reading the additional texts from Cass that had come in as I walked. She told me about the staff meeting at the Tiki Palms and asked me to meet her in the lobby, where Frederic has her manning reception. But I told her I’ll meet her afterward. There’s something I need to do first.
I know the meeting’s just for staff, but if there’s any chance that Frederic is going to share insider information about Lucy’s death—especially information that may confirm my suspicions about Daniel—I have to know. My hands are still shaking withthe adrenaline of following Daniel as I walk up the stairs, but I can’t deny the buzz that vibrates just beneath it. The excitement of knowing I’m getting closer to the truth.
I reach the upper level to find that the meeting hasn’t started. A cloud of chatter, conversations mingling in Thai and English, drapes the room, giving me the cover I need to sneak in and stand at the back, unseen.
I look over the crowd of thirty or so staff members, seated in fold-up chairs in neat little rows. Greta is at the very front, apparently helping Frederic with his notes, but despite looking for them, I don’t spot any of the other Permanents.
“Sawadee krap,bonsoir, good evening,” Frederic’s voice bellows from the front of the room, and the conversations immediately cease.
I’ve only met Frederic once, on one of my first days on the island. I had sought him out, hoping to form some type of collaboration with the resort to help fund my stay here. At the front desk, I’d been forced to schedule a meeting with him and had to wait several days for him to become available. “He’s a busy man,” all the receptionists assured me.
Once we finally met, I was confronted with the full weight of Frederic’s disdain for me, spending nearly an hour listening to him iterate and reiterate all the posts and videos and highlights that were required of me in exchange for a room discount—far more than had ever been required by any other hotel I’ve promoted. The meeting ended with him threatening to revoke my discount should my posts fail to improve resort traffic. Through it all, I forced myself to wear a polite, grateful smile while my insides burned with shame and rage.
Those same emotions flare again as I watch him address thecrowd in front of me, his usual condescension replaced by a tone apparently attempting to mimic sincerity.
“By now, many of you have heard that we have lost one of our own. A special guest who we only welcomed to the Koh Sang Dive Resort three days ago. Her name was Lucy Dupin.”
A murmur rises from the staff members at the sound of her name, but Frederic continues, undeterred.
“Friday night, at the Full Moon Party, an event that is supposed to inspire friendships, new beginnings, and connection, Lucy experienced a horrible accident. She entered the ocean for a late-night swim, which you all know we regularly warn against here at the resort.”
I can’t think of any verbal or written warnings given to guests about the dangers of late-night swimming, but Frederic steamrolls on.
“Given the dangerous current in the water and Lucy’s intoxicated state, the police have confirmed that she drowned a short distance from the beach.
“We have also received additional news from the police just a few moments ago.” He pauses, savoring the suspense he’s creating, and I want to scream. “They informed us that they received test results that indicate Lucy was under the influence of alcohol and MDMA at the time of her death.”
The news isn’t surprising—if the police did alter the autopsy results, as I certainly suspect they did, what was to stop them from falsifying some test results? But still, I find myself inhaling sharply. I think I see the whisper of a smirk on Frederic’s lips. Of course, this is perfect for him. If Lucy was on drugs, it’s even easier for him to paint this all as her fault.
“We are so sad to learn that Ms. Dupin lost her life for such amundane reason,” Frederic continues, quickly contorting his face into an expression that distantly resembles sympathy. “She was a beautiful woman, with a world of possibilities ahead of her, and we here at the Koh Sang Dive Resort are so honored that we got to know her, if only for a few short days.”
The superficiality of his words rings hollow throughout the room, and disgust rises in my throat.
“This is a tragic accident, but it is something that could have happened at any resort, on any island, anywhere in the world. No one here at the dive resort is culpable for Ms. Dupin’s regrettable decisions. We want to make that absolutely clear. As I have said, this was anaccident.” He stresses the last word. “Accordingly, we would like you all to refrain from discussing this in the presence of guests. We do not want this unfortunate news to detract from anyone’s experience at our resort.
“With that in mind,” he continues, lifting a piece of paper in one hand while using the other to pull a pair of reading glasses from his pocket. “We have created a response for you to politely give to any guest who lodges such an inquiry. I ask that you please now refer to the handout under your seat.” He pauses as the commotion of thirty people bending down and resituating themselves fills the room. “Now, if we could all read this together…”
The voices speak in unison, like a congregation praying. Thirty mouths move as the monotone speech fills every corner of the room. “Ms. Dupin suffered an unfortunate accident that could have been easily avoided should she have acted with more caution…”
Suddenly I can’t take it anymore. The canned response, the victim blaming. I need to be somewhere else, not listening to this bullshit. I head back down the stairs, not bothering to hide fromview, knowing everyone is far too transfixed on their handouts to notice my departure.
I exhale deeply once I’m back on the ground floor of the Tiki Palms. I expect to feel better now that I’m removed from Frederic and his insincere bullshit, but after the stuffy silence upstairs, the din of the nighttime bar crowd seems far too loud.
I’m about to head out onto the path that leads to the rest of the resort when I feel someone watching me. I turn, scanning the room, noting that Sengphet is back in his rightful place behind the bar, with Logan nowhere to be seen. I continue until I spot someone in the far corner of the restaurant, removed from the rest of the crowd. She looks young, possibly still a teenager. Her thick, black hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail, and her dark, almond-shaped eyes are glued on me.
The intensity of her stare is jolting, and I jerk my eyes away. But when I look back a moment later, she’s still looking at me pointedly. Perhaps it’s the reminder of how Lucy stared at me on the day she died, of how I let her down, how badly I failed. Whatever it is, the emotion propels me toward this girl in a flurry of frustration. The adrenaline from earlier continues to pulse through my veins, and after everything that has happened today, I’m ready for a confrontation, to ask this girl what it is she wants. But at that moment, a group of guests chattering loudly in German piles into the bar, stepping in front of me. I try to move around them, but each time I do, another seems to pop up in my way. By the time I get past them, there’s no longer any sign of the girl.
I try to shake it off, the uneasiness her stare has left in my gut, and turn back, slipping on my sandals and heading out of the restaurant.
Without the air circulating from the ceiling fans of the Tiki Palms, the night is heavy and humid. The waves crash against the beach, complementing the sounds of upbeat music wafting over from Kumvit. I breathe in deeply, forcing the salty air into my lungs. I start up the path away from the beach, but as I get closer to the Coral Bungalows, I can’t quite bring myself to go back to my solitary room. I need to walk. To think through what I should do next. To figure out how to tell this story. To find a way to get justice for Lucy.
I veer off from the path, taking the beach road toward Kumvit, the exact route I traveled as I followed Daniel. I walk for a few minutes until I reach the alley where I last saw him. Instinctively I peer down it, expecting to see nothing but the bins and palm fronds from earlier.
