Twenty-eight
The water rippled and danced, throwing dazzling shards of light into her eyes. Eliza didn’t have her sunglasses. She stared out the window anyway.
Someday soon, Lottie’s black fin would break this water’s surface, the spout of her breath casting rainbows in the air.
It would be spectacular. The site was already spectacular, with its red-painted buildings and sweeping views of the islands. Her mom and Russell were making it happen, and Eliza had taken it all for granted.
She should have visited more often, asked more questions. Taken more pictures. She’d never expected she might end up in jail and miss everything.
She heaved herself onto the leather recliner at the other end of the room. If she didn’t get arrested soon, she’d go mad, walking these halls and thinking these thoughts.
But what was there to do? The robber had eluded everyone, and Stacy had been able to provide enough evidence to convince a judge that she was the one to blame.
There was no way out.
Joey’s phone rang. She recognized the number as her mom’s, but she was afraid of answering. The line could be tapped. They could track her here. She’d like at least one night of freedom before she was arrested.
The phone only had thirty percent battery anyway. Maybe a coded text was enough.
All is well but can’t chat now. Feel like Lottie, neither here nor there.
Her mom’s response came a minute later. Got it. Hang tight, talk soon!
Hopefully Stacy and the ATF didn’t have the authority to tap every phone Eliza had ever communicated with.
She pulled the recliner back and stared at the ceiling. The wood was dark and knotted, stained a handsome brown. Eliza tried to practice her zen. The ceiling could hold the answers. Perhaps if she cleared her mind, something would come to her.
Ten minutes of staring, yet nothing.
She sat up. Joey’s phone was still at thirty percent battery. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to look at things again.
The service was terribly slow, but she was able to log into Mackenzie’s fake account and load Stacy’s page. She clicked through the pictures, zooming in on every man, no matter how far he was in the distance. Surely Stacy’s robber-lover had to appear in at least one of these hundreds of pictures?
She got through two years’ worth of pictures with no sign of him or, at least, what she thought he might look like. A bold smile. A trendy haircut. Maybe winking at the camera. A man with no fear.
The battery was down to twelve percent. Eliza got up and rummaged through the desk drawers. There were papers, cough drops, and a can opener, but no phone chargers.
She sat back on the recliner and closed her eyes. A knock at the door made her jump.
“It’s me!” her mom’s voice called. “I’ve brought supplies.”
“Come in!” Eliza shouted, almost falling out of the recliner as she scrambled to sit up.
The door opened. Mom came through first, her arms overflowing with a fluffy blanket and towels, a book bag strapped to her back. Mackenzie followed, reusable grocery bags weighing down each arm.
“Welcome to my new apartment,” Eliza said, sweeping a hand behind her. “I have a chair and a desk.”
Joey stepped into view and stood in the open doorway. He waved.
Her heart fluttered into her throat. Eliza waved back. “Thanks for bringing them.”
“No problem.”
Mackenzie dropped the bags onto the floor with a clank. “It’s the least he could do.”
“Mack…” Mom warned, raising an eyebrow.
Mackenzie squatted down and unloaded the bags. “I’m sure you’re hungry. Granny packed four sandwiches, a bag of cookies, and a quart of soup.”
Eliza laughed as Mackenzie piled everything into her arms. “That’s nice, but I don’t have much of an appetite.”
“Granny went to talk to Margie in person,” Mom said, wrapping her in a hug from behind. “We’re going to figure this out. Don’t worry, okay?”
“I’m not,” she lied, smiling. “I wanted to call my FBI contact, Ramona, but I’m afraid to give away my location.”
Mom leaned in. “I think we’re okay. To be safe, I can wait to call her until we’re away from here.”
“I brought your laptop,” Mackenzie said, pulling it from the grocery bag. “Granny insisted you needed a copy of the local islander magazine, too, so here you go.”
She dropped it onto the desk with a thud. The cover had a glossy picture of the lighthouse at sunset. Eliza picked it up and flipped through the pages.
The smell of a fresh magazine was always nice. Better than whatever was floating around in the stale air of the room—old containers of takeout and grease.
Mom kept hovering. “You’ll hide here as long as you need to. I’ll get you a better place to sleep. Would you prefer a camping cot or a blow-up mattress?”
The magazine fell open to a story: Beloved Gift Shop to Close after 36 Years.
The cover image was of Grace, the woman whose wheelchair had been used in the robbery. The sun rose on the harbor in the background, its orange glow illuminating her face. She stared into the distance with a solemn expression.
“I’m going to miss it,” she was quoted. “No doubt about it.”
Her heart rate picked up. There was something there. Eliza kept scanning the image, her eyes searching every corner.
“Honey?” Mom asked. “Are you okay?”
She looked up from the magazine. “I didn’t see it before. She was wearing sunglasses.”
Joey leaned forward, craning to see the page. “Grace? The shopkeeper?”
She held up the picture and pointed. “Look at her eyes! Dark green, with flecks of brown and blue, gold around the pupil. Don’t you see?”
“The robber’s eyes,” Joey said, voice low.
“ She’s the robber?” Mackenzie asked, holding a bunch of bananas in one hand and a quart of soup in the other. “Let’s get her!”
“No, the robber was a man, but…she’s involved. Or someone related to her is involved. Those were his eyes; I’m sure of it.”
“See! It wasn’t me!” Joey said. “Look at my eyeballs!”
“Keep your eyeballs to yourself,” Mackenzie said, shooting him a look. “If I find you anywhere in her family tree, I’m going to have you arrested.”
He sighed. “If I find myself in her family tree, I’ll arrest myself.”
Eliza read the article, hopping and skipping, unable to absorb the words. She stopped at a picture of Grace and her husband from twenty years ago.
Mrs. Donovan and her husband raised five boys while running the gift shop.
“She has five sons,” Eliza said. “He has to be one of them.”
Mackenzie dropped the bananas. “Are you sure about this? Aren’t you feeling a little…desperate?”
“Of course I’m desperate, but I still know what I’m seeing.”
“Eliza is never wrong,” Joey said. His eyes were on her, and when she looked up at him, he smiled.
Butterflies took off in her stomach and got caught in her throat. “We just have to figure out which one it is. Then we can tell the FBI and be done with this.”
Mom clapped her hands together. “That’s a plan. Okay. We can do this.”
The slow connection didn’t faze her. Seated at the desk, Eliza clicked wildly on her laptop, opening tabs, searching housing and employment records, pulling pictures from every corner of the internet.
In less than thirty minutes, she found him. “This is the robber. Derek Donovan.”
They gathered behind her and she clicked, bringing a video to life.
“This is one of my original poems,” the man said with a smile. He cleared his throat. “Falling asleep on the train, dozing off without refrain. Will we wake at our stop? Or miss it, our worries atop? Lover, lover, fears abound – you are mine. With me, you’re found.”
Eliza paused the video on a close shot of the guy’s face.
Joey leaned in, squinting. He was so close to her she could smell the mint from his chewing gum. If only she could get closer, close enough to feel the heat coming off his skin, close enough to know if he was still angry at her…
“Wow.” Mackenzie stood with her hands on her hips. “He’s a great bank robber, but a terrible poet.”
“Abysmal,” Mom nodded.
Eliza clicked over to another tab. “This is his son, Derek Junior. He’s thirteen and lives with his mom in Topeka. According to Junior’s TikTok, Dad left when he was a baby to pursue his dream of becoming an actor and yoga instructor.”
Joey groaned. “He can’t be a real person. He’s too awful. Is he really Grace’s son? She seemed so nice.”
Mackenzie shrugged. “It happens. What are the other sons like?”
Eliza clicked through more tabs. “They all seem to be normal members of society, at least on the surface.” She paused. “One is a bank manager at a Pebble Bay Bank.”
“One out of five isn’t bad,” Mackenzie said, stifling a laugh. “Good thing you never had that fifth daughter, Mom. That’s where it might’ve gone wrong.”
She laughed. “All of my kids are perfect. Not a bad one in the bunch.”
“I know, but the fifth…” Mackenzie scrunched her nose. “Could’ve been bad. Could’ve been a bank robber. Or a Mary Bennet.”
“There is nothing wrong with Mary Bennet,” Eliza said.
“She’s right,” Joey added. “She was a bit tedious, but she was still so young and so bright.”
Eliza turned to him, eyes wide. “You’re a Jane Austen fan?”
“My sister watched Pride and Prejudice on repeat. I’ve always been more of a Bingley fan myself,” he said, then stopped when he caught Mackenzie’s eye. “Anyway, Mary was at least curious.”
“Curiously boring,” Mackenzie said with a smirk.
Eliza sucked in a sharp breath.
Mom put a hand on her shoulder. “Eliza, you’ve done it. You found him.”
“See? You’re not a Mary,” Mackenzie added. “You’re definitely Elizabeth.”
“Are you sure it’s him?” Joey asked. He was further away from her, out of reach. “I’m not doubting you, I just – I can’t believe it.”
Eliza stifled a smile. “I do think it’s him. His voice, his mannerisms.” She dug in her pocket and pulled out a business card. “I’m going to call Ramona.”
Joey lurched forward, hand outstretched. “Wait. What if they track you here? Maybe we should call for you when we get back to San Juan?”
“It can’t wait. She told me to call if I heard anything else.” She shook her head, already punching in the number. “At this point, I’m confident if they do arrest me, Ramona will be able to get Derek.”
Her mom shifted on her feet. “You trust her that much?”
Eliza nodded. “I do. And I think this is the only way out.”
The phone rang. Eliza hit speakerphone and set it down.
Ramona answered, her voice clear. “FBI, this is Agent Ramona Thomas.”
She didn’t hold back, telling her about the arrest warrant, hiding out, and the clues leading to Derek.
She finished with, “What do you think?”
They paused in silence until Ramona sighed. “This is impressive but, Eliza, I have to be frank with you.”
Her stomach dropped. “Okay.”
“An arrest warrant is serious. I’m going to do everything I can, but you need to turn yourself in.”
She sucked in a breath. She should have expected it, but it still stung. “I will.”
“I think we can start with…” Ramona’s voice trailed off. “Could you pick Derek out of a lineup?”
“Definitely.”
“Hi, Ramona. This is Eliza’s mom, Sheila.” She leaned over the phone, her hands clasped together. “Is this enough? For an arrest?”
She sighed. “It’s not exactly evidence, so no. I can ask him to come in for questioning.”
“Ask him?” Mackenzie scoffed. “You can’t make him?”
“Not yet.”
Eliza tried to swallow, but her throat was completely dry. The only person with enough evidence for an arrest was her .
“Go to the nearest police station,” she continued, “and tell them there’s a warrant for your arrest. I’ll meet up with my boss and see what we can do.”
“I will, thank you,” Eliza said, lifting a heavy limb to end the call.
Mackenzie spoke first. “You are not turning yourself in. I get that she has to say that, but no!”
“I have to, Mack.”
Mom twisted her hands together. “Why do you have to wait in prison? Can’t you just stay here?”
Eliza sunk into the seat. “No.”
“You at least have to wait until Chief Hank is in tomorrow,” Mom said. “You can’t go turning yourself in during the middle of the night.”
What does one pack for prison? Could she bring her own toothbrush? A book? “Fine, but you guys should go. You don’t want to be caught around me.”
“I don’t care about that.” Mackenzie sighed. “I’m staying.”
“Me too,” Mom said.
Eliza’s voice was soft but resolute. “I don’t want anyone to get in trouble for being with me. And I could use some time to think.”
Her mom’s face twisted into a frown. There were tears in her eyes. “Are you sure?”
She forced a smile. “Yes, I’m fine. This is all going to work out. Trust me.”
Mackenzie gave her a hug, squeezing her tightly. “You’re right. You’re too smart to go to jail.”
She stole a look at Joey. He was watching her, hands in his pockets.
Would she ever see him again? If she ever got out of prison, he’d surely be gone.
He cleared his throat. “Oh.” He pulled a white charging cord from his pocket. “For the phone. Forgot to give this to you.”
She wanted to tell him she was sorry for what she said. Sorry she’d ever doubted him, that she ever suspected him. Sorry she wouldn’t get to keep seeing his half-dimpled smile or hear his uproarious laughter. Sorry she’d never feel the warm glow of his words in her heart.
Eliza wrapped the cord around her hand. “Thanks. For everything.”
He nodded and disappeared through the door.