Troubles in Paradise (Paradise #3)(57)

The upstairs is unpleasantly hot and stuffy; the air-conditioning is off. Maia leads Shane down the long hallway past the other bedrooms, all of them the same as Maia remembers, with their camel cashmere blankets and fluffy white duvets folded at the bottom of each bed and the arrangement of six pillows plus bolster at the head. She wonders briefly about the people who will end up buying this villa. Will they be older with a lot of children and grandchildren? Will they be young with a lot of friends they invite for weekend house parties? Will they ever learn anything about Maia—or Russ and Rosie?

Maia reaches the end of the hallway and opens the door to her room. It’s a swirl of turquoise and purple tie-dye; pillows that spell out her name hang on the far wall.

“Wow,” Shane says. “This is way cooler than my room.”

“It’s way cooler than my room at home.” Maia feels disloyal to Huck in saying this, but it’s undeniable. Here, she has beanbag chairs and a dressing table with a lit mirror. She remembers her mother handing her the Pottery Barn Teen catalog and telling her to “go crazy.” Maia had pointed to her favorite picture in the catalog, and the next time Russ came back to the island, her room looked like this. He had thought of the name pillows himself, he said. Maia picks up her copy of The Hate U Give. “I forgot I left this here. I’m taking this home.” She sits on the bed and Shane sits next to her. He kicks at her foot and then their two legs are intertwined. She’s afraid he’s going to kiss her. But isn’t that what she wants? The door is halfway open. She’s safe here, safe with Shane.

She falls backward on the bed and he does the same. When she looks at him, he smiles. He’s so cute without his braces. He inches his face closer and she thinks, This is it. She closes her eyes. His lips touch hers and they kiss. He lingers and she thinks, Is this where we open our mouths? Yes; yes, it is. They are, suddenly, tongue-kissing, which makes Maia feel like she’s flying down the pool slide upside down and backward.

“Maia!” Joanie shouts from somewhere.

No, Joanie, please, Maia thinks. Go away! Don’t ruin this!

“Maia, where are you?” Joanie calls. “Someone’s here!”

Shane jumps to his feet. “Someone’s here?” he says. “Should we hide?”

Should they hide? Maia opens her bedroom door wide and sees Joanie’s stricken face; Colton and Bright are right on her heels, trailing pool water down the hall.

“There’s a woman here,” Joanie says. “She pulled up in a black Jeep.”

“With tinted windows,” Bright says. “It’s a four-door Sahara Limited, plate TP six-seven-five-six.”

“She asked to talk to you,” Joanie says. “By name. She said, ‘Is Maia here?’”

“What?” Maia says. She can’t hide if they know her name. “Did she show a badge? Is she with the FBI?” Maia can’t even fathom the massive amount of trouble she’s in. And maybe not only her, maybe Huck as well. She feels her SpaghettiOs repeat on her; she’s going to hurl.

Shane comes up behind her and squeezes her hand. “I’ll go down with you.”

“We’ll all go down with you,” Joanie says.

“We’re just kids,” Colton says. “We can say we didn’t know we weren’t allowed to be here.”

Maia is trembling when she gets down to the bottom of the stairs. “You guys stay here,” she says. She steps out to the deck.

The woman is gazing at the view across the water to Tortola and Jost Van Dyke. She’s short and has brown hair that’s pulled back in a ponytail; she’s wearing white capri pants and a beige linen shell and sandals, and when she turns around, Maia sees she has a round, pale face with wide brown eyes. She doesn’t look like the FBI, but maybe this is how they trick you. They send someone who looks like the person who cleans teeth at the dentist’s office.

“Hello, Maia,” she says.

“Hello?” Maia says. Who is this woman? “Am I in trouble?”

“Oh,” the woman says. “Not with me, but I’m sure you kids realize you’re not supposed to be here.”

“We’re leaving,” Maia says. “We were just…I left some personal things behind that I wanted back.” She wishes she’d thought to bring the Angie Thomas book out. “I mean, it’s okay to take personal items? That have no value?”

“I’m not going to report you,” the woman says, but it sounds like there’s something else coming. “I just have one question. Something I need help with.”

“Okay…” Maia says.

“I’m a friend of Irene Steele’s,” the woman says. “An acquaintance. And I know she was living with you and your grandpa, correct? Up on Jacob’s Ladder? Has she moved? Left island, maybe?”

“Irene?” Maia says. “She lives in Fish Bay now with my brother Baker.” Maia absolutely loves using the phrase my brother. “And my nephew, Floyd. They live in a house called the Happy Hibiscus.”

Irene’s friend nods and brings her hands palm to palm up to her heart like a yoga person. “Thank you. That’s all I needed to know.”

“Do you…want her phone number?” Maia says. She wonders if it’s okay to give out Irene’s number, but this woman does not look threatening. She looks like someone from Iowa.