Stingrays

by James Patterson

  “Captain Kurtz,” Quinn says.

  “Yeah. I struck out, so maybe he thought he’d give her a try. I do remember that she was really strange. Flirty one minute, then next, cold fish. You know?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Come on, man, don’t be that way. You know how these girls can be. They’re total teases. They come down here to party and get out of control, right up until the minute they decide they want to be good girls and go home.”

  “Is that what made you angry? That Paige wanted to go home?”

  “No, I’m just saying…”

  “Is that why you trapped her on your boat? So that you could party?”

  “Trapped? No, man, it wasn’t like that…wait, I remember now! Those crazy loud girls—they pulled Paige away from Jake. He held on to her hands, trying to convince her to stay, but her friends wouldn’t let her. They practically dragged her away.”

  “And that’s the last time you saw her.”

  Halsey glances behind Quinn. “Yeah, I swear.”

  A short while later, Captain Jacob Kurtz is placed in the same seat while the others guard Halsey in another room. Kurtz doesn’t look behind Quinn. Not even once. No matter how many times Quinn says her name.

  “The last time anyone saw Paige Ryerson alive,” Quinn says, “was when she was dancing with you. Why did you kill her?”

  “That’s not true,” Kurtz says, “and you know it. Those Clee girls dragged her away. And anyway, I heard she was making out with some islander cop later that night. So why don’t you go talk to him and let us be on our way?”

  “Nobody saw you on that yacht after your dance with Paige. You followed her down the beach. You couldn’t get over her turning you down, even though you’re old enough to be her father. You followed her and saw her kissing that cop and it drove you insane.…”

  “Come on, man. You know that’s not right.”

  “And it drove you insane,” Quinn repeats, “that she would be with someone else instead of you. So after she broke things off with the cop you followed her. You strangled her. You buried her body. That”—Quinn pauses to jerk a thumb at the corpse behind him—“body right there. And then you just…sailed away.”

  “This is all crazy. If you’ve got proof, then show it to me. Otherwise, you need to let me go.”

  Quinn calls for Otto to take the suspect away. All of that suppressed emotion comes bubbling out of Kurtz now. He yells about how this farce of an interrogation will never stand up in court, how Halsey’s lawyers will crucify Quinn for this, and so on and so on.

  But Quinn is barely listening. After a moment, Jana enters the room, touches Quinn’s shoulder. “What are you thinking, my dear?”

  “I’m thinking we let them both go. They didn’t do it.”

  Chapter 29

  QUINN (continued)

  “I’m resisting,” Theo says.

  “Resisting what, exactly?” Jana asks.

  “Resisting the urge to dance around and do this.…”—at which point Theo starts to do an exaggerated Broadway dance number, all to the nonexistent tune of “I Told You So.”

  “Come on, get into character,” Quinn snaps. “Here he comes.”

  Indeed he comes. And Paolo Salese the playboy lifeguard is furious. He scans the crowd outside the casino, searching for the face that did him wrong. And then he finds it. Theo Selznick, standing on the corner, giving him a shy little wave. Which seems to infuriate Paolo even more.

  Quinn and Jana, meanwhile, stroll down the sidewalk, arms locked, taking in the laid-back decadence of a Caribbean-style resort.

  Paolo crosses the street, finger pointing at Theo. “You gave me a bag full of fake rocks!”

  “What are you talking about? You had your guy there. He authenticated them.”

  “Whatever, man. You fooled him, but you didn’t fool the guys who mattered—the guys who almost killed me for trying to pawn off fake diamonds! Look, I don’t know what kind of scam you’re pulling, but you’re going to give me my money right now.”

  “I know you’re upset, but hey…so am I. You led me to the wrong dead girl.”

  This statement acts like a bucket of ice water on Paolo’s growing rage.

  “W-what? What do you mean, wrong girl?”

  At this very moment, Quinn and Jana pass by, and Jana heaves a punch into Paolo’s midsection that certainly would have made him double over—if Theo hadn’t been there to grab his shoulder and the waist of his pants to keep him upright.

  “Come on,” Theo says, “let’s talk this whole thing out.”

  Talking this whole thing out, in this instance, means hustling Paolo into the back of an idling SUV. Quinn knows this is technically kidnapping, but he doesn’t care. Jana takes the wheel, and Quinn and Theo sit on either side of the lifeguard, who is struggling to catch his breath.

  Quinn says, “We know the girl wasn’t Paige Ryerson. Who was she?”

  “I’m telling you…it’s the girl.…”

  “No, it’s not, Paolo,” Theo says. “You stole Paige’s ring and watch and put them on a fresh corpse. So who was she?”

  “You can’t do this to me.…”

  Quinn places two fingers on Paolo’s chin and moves his head to the right so they’re looking directly into each other’s eyes. “You have no idea what we’re capable of, Mr. Salese.”

  The head tilt is a distraction so that Theo can inject the lifeguard with a knockout cocktail. Paolo feels the pinch, but two seconds later, the lights go out.

  “Take us to the beach, Jana,” Quinn says.

  By the time the lights come back on for Paolo Salese, he’s lying on his back in a grave in the same bottle-littered stretch of beach where the corpse with Paige’s ring and watch was buried. He’s three feet down, with enough sand shoveled onto his body to immobilize him while keeping his head uncovered.

  It’s four o’clock in the morning, so when Paolo starts screaming, there’s nobody awake to hear him.

  “Shhh,” Quinn says, crouching down. “Calm down. If we wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t have woken up at all.”

  This seems to calm the lifeguard down a little, as he realizes there might be a way out of this. Theo and Jana are standing on either side of Quinn, looking down into the grave as if they’re pallbearers at a secret funeral.

  “But if you lie to us,” Theo says, “you’ll stay down there for good. You understand?”

  “Yeah…I understand.”

  “Who was the girl?” Jana asks.

  “I don’t know,” Paolo says. “I swear to God, I don’t know.”

  “Then how did you know where her body would be?” Theo asks.

  “The day before you and I met, I got this call—the guy wouldn’t tell me his name. But he said that people would probably be asking me about the girl. And if that happened, I should play along, and he’d give me further instructions.”

  “In exchange for what?” Theo asks.

  “Money. Like you, he gave me a little down payment and promised me the rest when it was all over. That’s why I was trying to make a deal with you—I knew this guy was up to no good, and I didn’t want any part of it. I just wanted to get out of this damn place and put all of this behind me.”

  “How did this man contact you?” Quinn asks.

  “Through the hotel. He left me his number at the front desk and said I should call him back within an hour.”

  “What did he sound like?”

  “Uh…rich.”

  Theo is not so quick to believe Paolo. “So we have no way of backing up your story. Isn’t that convenient for you.” Idly, he begins to kick sand into the grave, pelting Paolo’s face.

  Paolo starts to scream again. Quinn motions for Theo to knock it off.

  “The hotel! Check the front desk phone records! I called him back using the lobby phone. Maybe you can trace him.”

  “Anyone smart enough to run this kind of cover-up would use a burner phone,” Jana says. “Nobody calls from landlines anymore.”


  “Is that my problem?!” Paolo shouts. “Come on, I told you everything I know. Let me out of here.”

  “Let’s go,” Quinn says, already strolling toward their SUV. “The others are meeting us in a couple of hours.” When Jana and Theo shake their heads and begin to follow, Paolo freaks out all over again, screaming with all of his lung capacity. Quinn suggests that Theo give the man a hand, and he does, reluctantly: clearing the sand away from Paolo’s left arm.

  “Dig yourself out.”

  Chapter 30

  THE STINGRAYS

  Up in the penthouse suite Quinn has ordered a full breakfast for the team, but no one feels like eating. Aside from Otto, of course, who never turns down a hot meal. He tucks into an egg-and-sausage scramble bowl as if a guard is about to knock on his door at any moment and lead him down to the executioner’s block.

  “Okay, Quinn,” Theo says, “so to recap, the lifeguard didn’t do it, the rich kid didn’t do it, and his yacht captain didn’t do it.”

  “That’s correct,” Quinn replies.

  “Which leaves us with Nigel James, the islander cop. I’ve liked him for this crime since the moment I met him. So what are we waiting for? Let’s nail him.”

  “Hold on,” Jana says. “Just a few hours ago you were about to bury the lifeguard alive because you were convinced he did it.”

  “No, I said he knew about it. I didn’t think he actually did it.”

  Kate interrupts. “Are we really discounting Jamie Halsey and Jacob Kurtz? Quinn, you said you thought this was a conspiracy—that we most likely have two suspects working in tandem. I can think of no better pair.”

  “Sure,” Otto says through a mouth full of scrambled egg, “but everybody agrees that Nigel James was the last person to see her alive. I’m with Theo on this. Let’s put this cop in our crosshairs and see what he does.”

  “No,” Quinn says. “We’ve pushed Officer James as far as we can. If we try a full-court press on him now, he’ll have the entire police force looking for any flimsy excuse to boot us off the island.”

  “So then…we go into stealth mode and lay an extremely clever trap?” Jana asks with a hopeful smile on her face.

  “No,” Quinn says. “Right now, I suggest you all finish your breakfast and go for a swim. Loosen up your muscles a bit.”

  “Wait—what?” Kate asks.

  “I’ll be flying back to the US,” Quinn tells them. “I’ve got a noon flight up to Boston.”

  A sour look washes over Theo’s face as he throws up his hands. “Well, that’s just awesome. Some killer got the best of us? Are we seriously giving up?”

  “Matthew, dear,” Jana says, “is there something we’re missing?”

  “Look, I’m not leaving until we find Paige,” Kate says. “Or her body.”

  Otto grunts his agreement.

  Quinn, perhaps sensing the minor mutiny brewing in the penthouse, shows them his palms. “I didn’t say anything about any of you leaving. I suggested you take a leisurely swim, because you’re going to have a long night ahead of you. By the time you return, I’ll have made a phone call, and your assignments will be waiting for you.”

  Theo smiles and shakes his head. “Can you imagine what it was like to be this guy’s roommate in college?”

  Chapter 31

  THE TWINS

  Even though they have papers due the next morning, Hannah and Brooke Clee head back to Turks and Caicos for the night.

  Brooke laughs and says they’ll have plenty of time to write them on the Gulfstream—or download them from the internet, whichever’s easier. But Hannah doesn’t find this amusing in the least.

  “I can’t believe you’re joking at a time like this. Do you even realize why we’re headed back down to the island?”

  “Because maybe, oh, I don’t know, you’re hopelessly OCD?” Brooke asks. She means it to sound devastating, but there’s enough uncertainty in her voice to let Hannah know her sister’s not entirely sure what those three letters stand for.

  “No, it’s because we need to know if they really found her or not,” Hannah says. “And there’s only one way to do that.”

  Hannah, of course, was the one who arranged the impromptu trip. Ordinarily such a lavish expense would have to pass through her father’s office for approval—the jet is company owned, after all.

  But Hannah has had eighteen years to practice her powers of persuasion and manipulation. A sob story about a lost ring (allegedly a gift from her stepmother, Daddy’s second wife) and the delicate need to search for it in person was enough for the jet crew to scramble to get the Gulfstream down to Turks and Caicos for the second time in a week. Flying the jet for an hour costs about $9,000; the round trip would set the company back about $100,000. But the staff knows that if it makes Hannah Clee happy, then it’s wheels up.

  “All we know is that somebody found a body,” says Brooke. “If it really is Paige, wouldn’t it be all over the news?”

  “Exactly,” Hannah replies. “We can’t trust anybody. For all we know, those jerk FBI agents spread a fake story. We have to be sure.”

  “Why? We didn’t do anything!”

  “Well,” Hannah says, “we did something.”

  Brooke sighs, then sneaks in a mumbled complaint. “We should never have invited her along for spring break.”

  “Oh, don’t even go there, Brooke. If we hadn’t invited her along, you know where you’d be right now?”

  Brooke has no response to this, because deep down she knows her sister is right. Throughout their childhood Brooke was always the one to run her mouth off at the wrong time, and Hannah was the one who’d have to bail her twin out of the mess. More than once using her fists.

  Hannah, feeling a little guilty, tries to reassure her sister. “Don’t worry. We’ll be there soon, and we’ll know for sure.”

  Brooke frowns. “I don’t know why we didn’t just call the police right away and tell them what happened. They’d have to understand. None of it was our fault.…”

  Hannah takes her sister by the shoulders and refuses to let go until she finally makes eye contact.

  “Listen to me. We did the right thing. Some people would like nothing more than to use this to embarrass or hurt Dad. We’re not going to let them.”

  At the airport, the twins are met by two vehicles. One is a private limousine, white, chartered to Paul Clee & Partners. A uniformed driver pops out from behind the wheel the moment the girls clear the gate. He is efficient and the girls barely notice him. They don’t ask for ID because why would they? Strangers have been taking care of them their entire lives.

  The other vehicle, parked thirty feet behind the limo, is a rented SUV, also white. But this second vehicle is not under the employ of Paul Clee & Partners.

  Then again, neither is their limo driver.

  Chapter 32

  OTTO AND JANA

  Otto Hazard, in his crisp white uniform, uses the limousine intercom to ask the girls where they’d like to go. “The hotel, to check your bags? Or perhaps a quick stop at Calico Jack’s?”

  Annoyed, Hannah stabs the intercom button. “Just go east on Leeward Highway. I’ll let you know when to turn.”

  “Yes, miss, my pleasure.”

  The intercom connection is severed. Or at least, that’s what Hannah and Brooke Clee believe. Any conversations the girls have will be heard clearly by Otto—and Jana Rose, who is following in the white SUV. A hidden digital video camera is also running, capturing everything that happens in the back of the limo and instantly uploading it to the Stingrays’ private servers. For instance, there is this exchange:

  “This is going to suck.”

  “Don’t flake out on me now, Brooke.”

  “I’m not! I just don’t want to see her again.”

  “Will you shut up? I don’t want the driver hearing any of this.”

  “Hannah, that guy can barely speak English. Did you look at him? Um, Neanderthal much?”

  Otto smiles. Over his
Bluetooth earpiece, he hears Jana’s laugh.

  “I’m sorry, Otto, but Brooke Clee has said what we’ve all been thinking.”

  “Nah, she’s just playing. I’ll bet she thinks Neanderthals are foxy.”

  “Keep sharp. We’re approaching the beach.”

  “Neanderthal out.”

  After their late-morning swim, the Stingrays had returned to the suite to discover that Quinn had left them all simple instructions. Otto and Jana’s list read:

  1. FOLLOW THE TWINS

  2. RECORD THE TWINS

  3. LISTEN TO THE TWINS

  Their collective afternoon was busy with an insane amount of detail work—which happened to be the kind of work they did best. Otto, however, was eager to finish this whole thing so they could maybe kick back and relax over a proper meal.

  His reverie is interrupted by the static pop of the intercom. “Turn left here, driver. Then follow my directions.”

  “Yes, miss, my pleasure,” Otto says, adding a little more of an islander accent to his speech this time around. If nothing else, he wanted to live up to Brooke’s expectations.

  After a series of turns, he is told to park the limo about a block from a deserted stretch of beach.

  “This isn’t where we found the other body,” Jana whispers.

  “No, it’s not,” Otto replies.

  Another loud static pop. “Wait here, driver. We’ll be right back. You stay in the car. Do you understand?”

  Like he’s a moron. “Yes, miss, I understand.”

  But the moment the girls make it a safe distance away, Otto springs into action, gathering his mobile recording gear and swiftly tightening the distance between himself and the Clee girls. Jana joins him a few moments later with her own recording devices. There’s no time for chatter now; they nod at each other, then slip into the cover of darkness and follow the twins.

  Hannah and Brooke are on the beach, gingerly stepping around a patch of sand a few yards away from a crumbling lifeguard station.