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More good advice from my id. Again, I listened.
Ten minutes. Fifteen. An eon.
Gradually, the downpour eased, and the cloud cover lightened.
Nerves quieting back down slightly, I opened the door and stepped out of the car.
The Turks and Caicos aren’t known for their mountain peaks. No Pico Duarte or Montagne Pelée. Nevertheless, the place where I found myself turned my blood cold.
I’d hit the brakes on a serpentine track on the spine of a ridge. The drop-off to either side was rocky and deadly.
Sweet Jesus! Had I turned left, the plunge from this elevation would have been fatal.
How did this happen? Why had Google Maps led me astray? Had I programmed the system wrong? Had I driven into an area where the signal was not only broken but scrambled?
The more important question. What to do now? Soldier on, hoping for a place wide enough to make an about-face? Reverse back down the way I came up? Try another system. WAZE? What3Words? Call for help? Would my phone even work?
Distrustful of all navigation apps, I went with option one. If no reasonable possibility appeared within half a mile, I’d reverse course. Literally.
Sliding behind the wheel, I crawled forward at a blazing fifteen mph. A quarter mile along the ridge, the road expanded enough for me to make a shaky seven-point turn.
Go home? Continue to the synagogue as planned?
Deciding that translation could wait, I pointed the Honda downhill. The first person I encountered gave me directions to Grace Bay.
I was watching a fat orange sun sink below a pearl horizon when the condo’s landline rang. Casting a puzzled glance at my mobile, I got up to answer.
“Where the blazes have you been?” Harry sounded wired, even for Harry.
“I’m in the Turks and Caicos.”
“I know your location. Imean, why does your phone keep rolling me to voice mail?”
“I must have switched it to silent mode.” Had I?
“Well, turn the damn thing on.”
“Okay.” Then, “Ring me.”
“Why?”
“To test it.”
Seconds later theLaw & Ordertheme blasted loud and clear.
“What goofy ring tone are you using these days?” Harry knew of my quirky habit, and never missed a chance to scoff at my choices.
I told her. Then added, “In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups: the—”
“Yeah, yeah. The police who investigate crimes, and the district attorneys who do something else. You watch too much television, big sister.”
“Apparently, you do, too.”
“Guilty as charged. It’s my one vice,” she said with not a hint of irony.
As if, I thought. “How did you know I was in the islands?”
“Called Ryan. That monsieur is definitely a keeper.” Pronounced miss-your.
