Peering through mini binoculars, he tried to scope out the scene. No luck. Too many branches from trees framed the home, and blinds covered most of the windows.
He lowered the binoculars and kept his eyes on the front door. As he waited, he alternated between watching the house and answering e-mails from potential tutors for Kylie. His sister had also texted him this morning—an emoticon of lips smooching.
He sent her back a monkey, covering his mouth. He was glad that her playful side was still alive and well, despite her overarching worries about school.
Then, he thumbed through Kate’s e-mails about inquiries from new clients.
Have I told you before you need to bring someone else on board? Lots of work coming our way.
He sure did enjoy those words lots of work, because lots of work was the one guaranteed way for him to pay off all the college bills for his brothers and sisters.
Excellent. Try Dan if it’s not too crazy a job.
Dan was a buddy from Jake’s army days who picked up occasional work with his firm. Dan could certainly handle the so-called crazy jobs, but Jake still preferred to take those on himself. Like this one. There was so much that was open-ended about this job and so many potential directions. He thrived on hunting down the leads, circling the evidence, and then nailing the goods.
Nailing.
Wrong word, because it whipped him right back to last night and exactly what he’d been picturing when he was alone in his hotel room. His brain had been working those images hard before he fell asleep. He was damn eager to see his dart coach again today, but he shoved all thoughts of that hot blonde from his mind when Eli strolled down the stone path of his house, tossing his keys lightly in one hand. Eli stopped to admire an orchid tree, then bent his head toward a bush of red roses, wafting the scent toward his nostrils with his other hand. The man really did know how to enjoy himself. From the nightclub to his lush tropical home, Eli Thompson seemed to savor every little moment that his life laid out before him on a red carpet.
Eli raised his face to the sky and held his arms out to the side. Like he was inviting the glory of the sun into his day. Jake laughed to himself. What must it be like to stroll through the day with that kind of devil-may-care attitude? That attitude must be precisely what allowed Eli to take money that wasn’t his. Jake clenched his jaw. The reminder of Eli’s thievery fueled him.
The man walked to his car in the driveway—a gleaming black Audi.
Minutes later, Jake drove a few vehicles behind him as Eli motored toward town. “Thank you very much, Mr. Thompson. That’s exactly where I’m headed after I follow you,” Jake said to himself.
He slowed at a red light, a few cars behind Eli, and alongside a green Honda. The light changed, and Eli jetted into the financial district.
Banks, banks, and more banks lined the main street that cut through the heart of Grand Cayman, slicing the island into water and money.
To Jake’s left, the ocean stretched as far as the eye could see, a vast sheet of cool blue. To his right, row after row of big, imposing white structures towered high, with names like Royal Bank and Cayman Finance that promised to squirrel away your coins for as long as you needed them abracadabra-ed.
No questions asked. No explanations needed. Just open the account, drop in some dough, and your money gets all the insulation it could ever need. Sleek black cars rolled along the concrete stretch of street, dropping off sharp-dressed women in monochrome skirts and blouses and men in crisp suits and ties, their outfits a stark contrast to the island lifestyle. The bankers had their own uniform—that of the financiers who had made this country wealthy, and made shady businessmen and women richer.
The man in question parked outside a tall, stark white bank.
Jake grabbed a nearby spot and was about to venture into the same bank, when Eli popped back out. Whoa. That was fast. Eli couldn’t have been in the bank long enough to do anything but grab a few bucks at the ATM. No chance he’d dropped off any hefty sums of cash or checked on goods in a safe deposit box.
Jake ducked out of the way of the revolving door, then walked purposefully to the gurgling fountain with an angel statue outside the bank. He fished for some coins in his pocket and tossed them in, making a wish that this job would pay off.
Eli crossed the street, then headed up a set of steps to a chichi restaurant called Tristan’s with a terrace one story up from the road. Eli rapped on the door, and a tall man answered it, letting him in. Jake couldn’t get a good look at the guy; he only saw a head full of salt-and-pepper hair. Once Eli was inside, Jake walked up the steps.
The restaurant was quiet and the sign said OPEN FOR BRUNCH AT TEN.
He glanced at his watch. That was one hour from now. What was Eli doing here so early? He must be meeting with someone who worked there, and Jake would add Tristan’s to the list of places to check out. For now, this extra hour gave him time to get some other work done. After he left, he weaved through the late-morning crowds in the financial district, until he turned on a side street that boasted smaller banks, perhaps for smaller deposits. He cruised by a few offices, until he reached Wayboard Street with small storefronts bearing signs like DUTY-FREE, WHOLESALE, and UNCUT.
The last one sounded vaguely like a porno flick. He shuddered at the thought, and then shoved it out of his brain.
Rolling the dice, because that was all he could do, he tried the first diamond shop.
Given Eli’s laser focus on that rock on his fiancée’s throat, as well as Marie’s comment about gems, Jake wanted to take the temperature of the diamond business.