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The only signs that anyone had been here were the scrap of fabric I was now clutching in my hands and the trampled grass. No trash, no campfires, and no footprints.
“Could they have lost their way on the hike up here?” I asked, talking slowly to make sure Adriano understood me. Despite English being the primary language spoken in Guyana, Adriano preferred the Guyanese Creole most of the locals spoke in the remote villages.
He shrugged, a gesture that seemed to be his standard answer. “Keep looking.”
We circled the lake three times, each lap wider and wider. Our breaths came out harsher and harsher, the rain forest humid, making my clothes stick to my skin and my breathing laborious. The only time Adriano broke through our panting was to point out local wildlife. “Krapo.”
I watched a cane toad hop underneath dense foliage. We had seen little more than small animals, and I was grateful. I had no desire to meet anything larger, which included jaguars that in the jungles of Guyana.
There were no more signs of broken branches. But if Archer had come here a few weeks ago, all signs would have been erased. I was stumbling more and more and struggled to keep up with Adriano. He was making his way out of the jungle, not asking if I was ready to go back. After having a few fruitless arguments, I’d come to accept that my ornery tour guide liked to finish early. Eventually, I had to give in and follow him back down the hill. Another dead end.
We made it back to the small village I was staying at much faster than going up. My eyes were so heavy I hardly noticed the tension in the air. People looked as if something was going to jump out at them around every corner, the village eerily quiet.
Guyana had never given me creeper vibes before, but now my instincts told me to run. Hide. But Adriano, my trusted companion for the past few weeks, seemed at ease. Relaxed. And as much as I didn’t know him, I trusted him. He’d driven me around the country, talking to locals, gathering information. He might have given me an occasional eye roll, indicating his disapproval of my search. But he hadn’t steered me wrong yet.
My tired legs groaned in protest when I forced them to walk faster. I made it to the hotel in record time, eager to get off the street. Adriano grunted at me before walking off in the direction of a food stand, and I interpreted it to mean “same time tomorrow.”
The moment I reached my room, I shut the door and locked it. For the first time, I doubted my hasty decision to come here.
I peeled off my wet clothes and stepped into the shower. The water was lukewarm, but I didn’t care; I wanted to scrub all the dirt and sweat away.
I was at a crossroads. I didn’t know where to look next. I had exhausted all my options. It had been weeks since Archer disappeared. The trail had gone cold, except for this piece of what might have been his sweater.
I pulled clean clothes back over my damp body, not paying attention to what I put on. I’d brought a few pairs of shorts, jeans, and T-shirts. The shorts I put on hung loose, reminding me of the weight I’d lost.
But I refused to give up, to believe that my brother was gone forever. The thought was so terrifying that it made me shiver, even though it was still hot. This damned country seemed to be permanently sweltering. I made my way back downstairs to at least eat something. I wasn’t helping anybody if I passed out.
The atmosphere was as tense in the small hotel restaurant as it was outside. I’d gotten to know the surrounding area as a quirky and lively town. The silence seemed wrong. The waiter who took my order was shaking; he spilled the water he served me and got my order wrong. I said nothing and instead went through the notes I’d memorized.
The chair on the other side of my table moved, and I looked up into an unfamiliar face.
“Señora Bennet,” the man said and took a seat. He was wearing a black shirt, the top two buttons undone, showing hints of an impressive chest. His dark chocolate-brown hair was tied back in a ponytail. I guessed it to be shoulder length when it was loose.
I raised a brow at him, unwilling to let his bulky frame or hard eyes intimidate me. I was also curious what he wanted. I’d made no secret of my reasons for being here. Maybe he knew something about my brother. I was getting desperate, grasping at straws. Stranger danger in this case seemed to be a redundant concept.
I put my “accountant who is about to tell you that you’re broke” smile on my face. “I’m sorry, you have me at a disadvantage here. Have we met?”
He leaned back, and I could see the gun peeking out from his waistband. I instantly stiffened, and my reaction made him grin.
What’s going on?
“You’re sticking your nose in things that don’t concern you.”
I leaned back in my chair, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. “I don’t know what you mean.” I took a sip of my water, the cool liquid providing temporary relief of the stifling heat. “I’m just enjoying your beautiful country.”
The waiter chose that moment to bring out my food. My hands shook under his watchful gaze as I reached for my cutlery.
“We both know that’s not why you’re here.” His accent was thick, his voice commanding.
I swallowed a piece of steak, and it struggled to make it down my dry throat. My hands were sweating, but thankfully I wasn’t shaking. Not yet.
“And whyamI here?” I tried playing stupid for a little longer. Maybe he’d get bored with me.
He ignored my question and instead put his hand on his gun. “I see you need more convincing.” He nodded toward the exit, where a second man appeared.
Who the hell does he think I am? Why would he be interested in one woman who wants to find her brother?
“You must have me confused with someone else. I’m not doing anything illegal. I’m also not interested in anyone’s business. I promise I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow. Ask the receptionist at the hotel. I already told them I’m checking out.”
