Chapter 1
Lena knew she'd made the right decision. No doubts.
Her subterfuge was just. This plan was undoubtedly the best course of action.
The pep talk forced her feet up the front steps of Emil Van Horn's 12,000-square-foot Caribbean vacation home—the size a well-known fact because he'd bragged about it on social media. He was classy like that.
Hefting her rolling bag up the last few steps, she reassured herself that her suspicions—like her trip to this remote Caribbean island—were completely logical.
As she finally reached the porch, however, her confidence withered. The isolated Van Horn estate sat ten miles from the busy resort area on Isadora Island. Tucked behind acres of thick island jungle, it sat a half mile from the public road. No neighbors. No cell signal.
The pep talk muted. And the slow drip of dread she'd ignored all day finally pooled in her stomach. She needed an antacid. And probably an escape plan.
Moments ago, just after she'd pulled her rolling luggage from the back seat of her taxi and shut the door, her only means of transportation had fled back to the main road like a spooked horse. Maybe the taxi driver knew something she didn't. Maybe she hadn't thought this through enough.
No way to turn back now. Even if she wanted to change her mind about this crazy scheme, she'd have to use the Van Horns' landline to call another taxi.
Why did it just now occur to her that if she felt the need to scream, no one would hear her so far out in this gorgeous, eerie, tropical wilderness?
Had she made a huge mistake? What if they saw right through her? What if the job offer was all a farce to lure her to this remote estate . . . like Cassidy was lured . . . well, not in the same way, but still . . .
Or what if no one ever answered the door? She was stranded. Not to mention, if she was right about her suspicions, Emil Van Horn might be a very dangerous person. And she'd come alone. So very alone.
She reached for the doorbell, her hand trembling as if the button nestled in an ornamental brass pineapple fixture would bite.
She took a deep, fortifying breath.Just focus on the goal, Lena. You're here for Cassidy. You're doing this for Cassidy.
She pressed the doorbell.
God, please protect Cassidy.
She prayed the familiar prayer for the hundredth time. And for good reason. But maybe she should've spent some time praying for wisdom, because suddenly her plan didn't feel so brilliant.
Waiting on the front porch, she shifted her weight, lying to herself that her legs weren't shaking. Seconds crawled by. Should she ring the doorbell again? Terrified as she was, she wasn't ready to give up. Cassidy needed her, whether she knew it or not. She lifted her hand to ring the bell again. The door swung open.
A tall, rail-thin woman with a warm smile greeted her. "Hello. You must be Lena."
The pleasant welcome eased her fears. A smidgen.Time to play my part. Maybe this plan will work after all."Yes. Yes, I am."
"I'm Delphine. Welcome." She waved a hand toward Lena's rolling bag and carry-on. "Do you need any help with your luggage?"
"No, thank you. I've got it."
Delphine smiled again and motioned her inside the cavernous foyer. "Come on in. How was your flight?"
"Oh, fine," she said. "I've never flown first class before," she lied.
The woman gave a soft laugh and extended her hand. "Like I said, I'm Delphine. I'm Mr. Van Horn's house manager."
So far, so good. At least the job offer probably wasn't a ruse to lure her here.Just smile, play along, and find Cassidy.
Delphine shook Lena's hand, then pointed to a wide hallway. "Follow me. I'll get you settled and, of course, introduce you to the dog."
Yes, the dog. Lena was genuinely looking forward to meeting Nutmeg. She adored dogs—more than people, sometimes. And she needed to show that interest since Nutmeg was the reason Mr. Van Horn and Delphine thought she was there. With some artful finagling, she'd managed to secure this part-time job dog-sitting Nutmeg,who belonged to Emil Van Horn's aunt, Victoria. Aunt Victoria was in Europe for two weeks, attending to very important-sounding logistics pertaining to a fashion show in Paris.
Why Emil Van Horn's aunt's dog was at the family's island estate while Aunt Victoria was in Europe wasn't clear, and frankly, Lena didn't care. The dog-sitting gig was her way into this house without having to tell Emil who she really was. Because if he knew, she wouldn't have made it past the front door.
Delphine led her down a window-lined hallway with views of a private putting green, and beyond that, palm trees as far as she could see.
