CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CRISTY: ‘Hi, it’s Cristy, it’s Tuesday morning and I am on my way to Florida.
‘Yes, I really am on a non-stop flight to Miami. All will be revealed in a later episode, but for now I’m sorry to tell you that we’re unable to bring you a podcast at our usual time this evening.
Never fear, there will be an episode coming your way at the end of the week that will contain surprises all of its own.
Nothing to do with Florida.’ (And everything to do with Robert Brinkley, she didn’t add.)
‘It’s funny how life throws things at you, swerves you off in directions you’d never have dreamt were coming only days, maybe hours before.
That is certainly happening with this series.
So, I hope you’ll be patient and bear with us.
Connor will be your host on Friday and I hope to be sharing the reasons for my unexpected trip Stateside by next Tuesday. ’
After connecting to the plane’s WiFi and uploading the recording to the team, Cristy stretched out her long legs and sighed luxuriously as she settled deeper into the business-class seat.
She truly had not seen this coming, had only learned yesterday that instead of flying to Guernsey that day, she’d be heading for the US in the morning to meet none other than George Symmonds-Browne, or so she’d been told.
Or, as he was known these days, Gabriel Bailey.
Apparently, he was not in witness protection, or under any other kind of state protection.
In fact, according to Evie Baker, who Cristy had been in regular email contact with since Sunday, he was living a quiet life in a safe and comfortable community on Florida’s Gulf coast. He’d changed his name, said Evie, partly out of respect for his family, but also to avoid some old business associates.
He was willing to talk to Hindsight, but only in person – in other words not over Zoom, and nor was he coming to the UK.
Whether or not Evie Baker was the same Evie Natalie Irwin had talked about in her interview had not yet been established. However, she’d been the subject of much debate since Jacks had found the first email from her at eight-thirty on Sunday morning and alerted the whole team to its existence.
A video conference was almost immediately under way.
True, there had to be a million or more Evies out there. This particular message, spotted and forwarded by an insomniac supersleuth, had once again claimed that George Symmonds-Browne was in Naples.
In the end, it was Matthew who’d redirected their assumptions from southern Italy when he’d turned up at the flat around ten o’clock not only with croissants and pastries, but with information from his late-responding Interpol contact.
Last known location of Symmonds-Browne: Naples, Florida.
No longer person of interest to international law enforcement agencies.
Nothing about protection, or turning state’s witness, or even that Symmonds-Browne might be living under another name.
However, it had been enough to convince Cristy and team that a trip to Florida was worth committing to.
‘But not alone,’ Connor had declared firmly. ‘We’ve got no idea what you might be walking into and I, for one, am uncomfortable with the fact that neither this woman, nor Symmonds-Browne – Bailey, whatever we’re supposed to call him – will connect online.’
They’d all been at Cristy’s flat by then with Matthew, showing no inclination to leave, taking charge of food deliveries, while David sat watching and listening in what appeared to be growing fascination with the delegation and decision-making process.
Finally, when it became clear that Connor needed to take on the Guernsey trip – they still wanted to interview Corny the ex-housekeeper, and possibly record Robert’s meeting with Sadie – it was decided that Clove and Jacks should fly to Vilnius to talk to the journalist who was helping to locate Lukas and Janina’s older sister while Cristy went to Florida.
When David volunteered himself as Cristy’s ‘bag-carrier’ she turned to him in amazement.
She was thrilled, of course, but really? Did he mean it? The nonchalance of his shrug told her that he did.
‘Why wouldn’t I want to go to the sunshine state in February?’ he’d asked, not adding, with you, but she’d known from the way he was looking at her that it was what he was thinking.
‘Darn! Beat me to it,’ Matthew declared, clearly nowhere near as thrilled as he’d tried to sound, and looking, for one truly alarming moment, as though he might offer to go too.
Shuddering at the memory of that now, and just how horrendous it would be if the three of them actually were on this plane, Cristy turned to David and smiled to find him watching her.
‘OK?’ he asked, reaching for her hand.
She nodded and felt grateful to Iz all over again for the way she’d swung into action yesterday, getting their sponsor Open Destiny on board to arrange this flight to Miami where they were due to spend the night before a hire car was delivered in the morning for them to drive across the state to Naples.
Closing her eyes, she sat quietly wondering what might lie ahead, if there was danger lurking, maybe answers to questions they hadn’t even thought to ask.
Would Evie Baker turn out to be the same Evie who’d been Lukas’s girlfriend back in 2015 when Natalie had last heard from him?
If so, and she was with Symmonds-Browne in Florida, how on earth had that come about?
Perhaps more to the point, what had happened to Lukas?
*
‘OK, all aboard for Alligator Alley!’ David declared the next morning as he started the engine to their rented SUV.
Cristy turned to look at him.
He shrugged. ‘It’s what they call the highway between Miami and Naples,’ he explained.
‘But we’re not likely to see any?’
‘Who knows. We’ll be going right through the Everglades and last I heard it’s where a lot of them hang out. So, do you have the address?’
Pulling up the latest email from Evie Baker, Cristy programmed in 4456 Verbena Circle, Naples, FL, and hit go.
It was true, their journey was going to take them right through the heart of the swamp and as far as she knew there was only the one road, but if people were doing it all day, every day …
Anyway, she should probably record a description of the drive in order to set the scene and maybe share some of her feelings about what might or might not be about to happen as a result of this unexpected swerve into territory unknown.
What she wouldn’t do was mention David. Given his central role in their last podcast, it would seem beyond weird that he was figuring in this one, especially on a transatlantic trip to the sunshine in the middle of an English winter.
Glancing over at him, taking in his profile and letting her eyes fall to his hands on the wheel, she felt amazed all over again to think of how only a few days ago they’d been caught up in a ludicrous misunderstanding of how their relationship was going.
And now, here they were, in sunny Florida, almost like a honeymoon couple with, perhaps, as much to look forward to from one another as they had from the real reason for being here.
‘Are you going to tell?’ he asked, indicating to overtake a slow-moving truck.
Realizing he meant her thoughts, Cristy said, ‘I’m trying to make myself believe you’re really here.’
He glanced at her in surprise. ‘Last night wasn’t enough for you?’ he said dryly.
Smiling as the reminder lit through her, she said softly, ‘We should probably try harder.’
With a laugh, David reached for her hand and brought it to his mouth for a kiss. ‘We could have a priority issue facing us,’ he said, ‘so I’ll put it out there now that I’m OK with being second fiddle while you’re working. I’ve brought my bikini.’
She started to laugh.
‘Just the bottom half,’ he added, ‘and happy to share.’
Still laughing, she said, ‘Do you realize Iz – or Open Destiny – have booked us into the Ritz-Carlton, which is apparently right on the coast and starts at around fifteen hundred dollars per night? All I have to do in return is mention it in the podcast.’ She looked down at her phone as it started to ring, ‘Ah ha! Evie Baker,’ she declared, and quickly clicked on.
‘Hi, have I reached Cristy?’ The voice was female, cheery and sounded both American and … There was something else, but it was too soon yet to tell what it was.
‘You have,’ Cristy told her, hitting record in case the conversation proved useful later. ‘Good morning, Evie. How are you?’
‘Oh me, I’m fine. We’re excited to see you. Have you set off yet?’
‘About half an hour ago so already on Alligator Alley.’
Evie laughed. ‘You watch out for them naughty little critters now, they’re not to be messed with. We’ve got a big old boy in our pond here, snappy as fuck he is.’
Startled as much by the language as the pet, Cristy said, ‘Please tell me you’re not serious.’
‘I could have been, once, but he got taken off to the marshes a while ago. We’re not even sure how he came to be where we found him, but we’ve got some interesting neighbours in this community with their own kind of humour.
By the way, when I say pond, in British terms it would be a lake, like Windermere or Ullswater – probably not that big actually, never was good on size.
Just not the kind we Brits keep our goldfish in. ’
‘Can I ask where you’re from?’ Cristy said, as they pulled up to pay a toll.