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problem. I don’t…” She dropped her head back, closed her eyes, and exhaled in pure surrender. “Of what?”
    “Leukemia. She needs a bone-marrow transplant from a relative.”
    She choked. “Oh, that’s great.” She shot forward again, fingers stabbing through her cornsilk hair, color flooding back to her sculpted cheeks. “The woman sells me— sells me —to a total stranger, shoots a hole through some poor woman, then writes me off for thirty years. Now she wants me. Now she needs me. Oh, that’s just rich. And who are you, the warden?”
    “I work for a security and investigation firm that’s attempting to locate the—”
    “Not that I’m sorry she sold me.” She cut him off. “My dad was great, and I wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world. Especially because I probably would’ve ended up in some orphanage, since she was a killer . Did you know that about her?”
    “I know she’s in jail and has been accused of murder.”
    She snorted. “And you say that like she might not be guilty. Have you read about her case?” She angled her hands like a book. “Open and—” Crack . She slapped her palms closed. “Premeditated first-degree murder.” Drawing out the last two syllables with total repugnance, she shook her head. “And now she needs my bone marrow? I don’t believe this.”
    He remained still, letting her blow it all out. She opened her mouth to say something, then suddenly stared at the phone as if it held an answer.
    “Clive sent me a text message sometime in the last hour. ‘Watch your back,’ he said. I thought maybe he meant you, but if you’re telling the truth…”
    “I never lie.”
    She finally pulled the cab door closed. “Well, good for you. I wish you were lying now. I wish you weren’t the emissary of My Mother the Murderer.” She leaned forward and spoke to the cabbie. “Sorry about all that. I still want to go to Basseterre. Can we go there now, please?”
    Her hands were still shaky as she reread the message on her phone. “Naturally, there’s no satellite service now.”
    “Sounds like your friend might be in some trouble,” Wade suggested, letting her get a little more calm before he dropped the next bomb. “Does he normally send that kind of message?”
    “No. I’ve heard from him only three times since he left, including this one.”
    “So why exactly is his disappearance your problem?” he asked.
    “Because A, he’s my friend, and B, he left a mess at work, and C…” She shrugged. “He’s my friend. That’s all that matters. Don’t you have friends you care about so much that you’d put your ass on a plane and fly to hell in July to find them?”
    “As a matter of fact, that’s exactly why I’m here.”
    “You’re helping a friend?”
    “I’m working for a friend.”
    She looked skeptical. “That woman in jail. Is she your friend?”
    “No. I’ve never met her.”
    “Then who sent you here?”
    “My friend owns a security and investigation firm, and she’s launched this search.”
    “Well, search is over, hon.” She dipped down to peer out the windshield. “How far are we from the Ballahoo?”
    “So, you’re going to keep looking for this friend of yours? Even though he sent you a warning?”
    “That wasn’t necessarily a warning. ‘Watch your back’ is a private joke with us.”
    “Not a very funny one.”
    She shot him a look. “Right here is fine,” she told the driver. “What do I owe you?”
    Wade put a hand on her arm. “I’ll pay for this.”
    She produced a wallet, hesitated, then tossed it back into the abyss of her bag. “Fine.”
    “And I’d like to come with you,” he said, handing a bill over the front seat.
    “As much as you’d be very nice gay-boy bait, I’m sorry, I have my own agenda, and you’re not on it.”
    “I’m actually quite good at finding people.”
    “So you’ve demonstrated.” She whipped the car door open and climbed out to the sidewalk.
    Wade got out on the street