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towards the scene until they could see what everyone was looking at. The body hung from the balcony, dangling limply like a puppet, slit down the middle and entrails hanging down from the cavity, blood dripping onto the floor below. Her skin looked grey.

“Oh god.” Josie gasped, clamping her hand over her mouth.

Michael wanted to run to Miguel, but his legs were planted to the spot. The image tore him in two. He couldn’t comprehend what was happening in Miguel’s mind right at that moment. Josie ducked behind a garbage can and her body convulsed as she vomited. He didn’t want to, but for some reason he looked back at what he believed to be Miguel’s wife. More people had gathered, like rubberneckers at the site of a car crash. Miguel’s cries of grief still filled the air. He had to help, not that he could, but he felt the need to be at his side. As Michael got closer, men in black uniform infiltrated the crowd, they looked like police officers. Hopefully now they would take this seriously. One of the men grabbed Miguel’s arms and cuffed them behind his back.

“No. What are you doing?” Michael shouted, but his voice was lost in the noise of the crowd.

Miguel tried to wrestle his way free, thrashing around like an animal upon hearing the door of a trap shut behind them. The harder he struggled, the more officers came to restrain him, pinning him roughly against the floor, his cheek pressed against the concrete. It was obvious—the moment he gave up—his body, lifeless on the floor. The men in black hoisted him up, dragging him towards the police car.

“We need to get out of here.” Michael tried to get her to move, but she lowered herself down against the wall, snatching in quick shallow breaths. “Come on. We know who did this, and we’re next.” He stood above her offering a hand, but she started shaking on the floor. Lowing himself down to her level, he took her tear soaked cheeks in his hands. “Just breathe okay. Nice and slow.” He inched back to give her some space. If years of experience had taught him anything, it taught him that you couldn’t fight your way through a panic attack with sheer force. He peered around the corner of the wall that shielded them. The body had already been cut down, and the house swarmed with police. As he turned back, her breathing had already calmed somewhat. Michael wiped tears away from his face that he hadn’t even realized were there. “Are you okay to move now? We can find somewhere safer, and then you can take all the time you need.” She nodded, and Michael pulled her up with both hands.

***

“I can’t walk anymore.” Josie sat on a wall, shoulders slumped and her arms hanging down limply in front of her.

“We can take a break.” Michael looked around for anywhere suitable to lay-low for a few minutes but came up blank. They had no money. No belongings. Nothing. He put his hands in his empty pockets and the anxiety rose in him like bile.

“We’re fucked Michael.”

The panic in her voice made him feel even worse. Even though the air was warm, he shivered, and the streets looked cold and grey. Any last bit of charm had long since vanished. “Maybe we go to the police.” He had no idea what else to suggest at this point.

Josie snorted. “I can’t even imagine where I would begin explaining this. Why did they arrest Miguel, I wonder? Do they know about Julio?”

“Maybe, although I don’t think it’s in Samuel’s interest for them to look too far into all that.” He tried his best to sound convincing.

“I don’t trust the police. We need to go to the American consulate. I think that’s our safest bet. We need someone on our side. The way they arrested Miguel was just…”

“Where is the consulate?” It was time to get practical, not to waste time speculating.

“The consulate is in Cancún. The embassy is in Mexico city.”

“What’s the difference?” he asked, wondering if he had just asked one of those questions that should have been obvious.

Josie seemed to be in her own world now, staring off into the distance. “I don’t even have change for a pay-phone. You ever begged for money before?” She rifled through her pockets but came up empty.

“I have an idea.” Michael started walking in the direction of the waterfront.

Chapter Twenty Three

If there was going to be a hotel or hostel anywhere, it was going to be by the sea. His eyes scanned the line of shops along the waterfront, starting to recognize the scenery from where Julio had taken them to go on his yacht. A fantasy popped into his head of riding Julio’s boat off into the sunset with Josie and living off the land on an island in Belize. He could learn to fish.

There was something comforting about walking alongside the bars and restaurants. No matter where you were in the world, beer always brought people together. Watching others sat outside with cold drinks, relaxing, laughing, and joking began to make Michael envious. That could have been him working his way through the cocktail list back in Tulum. Their beaming smiles made him angry. Why did some people find it so easy to be happy?

“What about there?”  Josie stopped and pointed towards a building a few yards ahead of them.

“Perfect.” Michael burst into a jog towards the hostel and slowed down as they reached the entrance. They walked in through the two open doors, a group of travelers huddled in a nook in the corner, all talking over each other with excitable energy.

“Can I help?” The lady behind the counter asked. Her black hair slicked back in a ponytail tight enough to give her a facelift, giving her a severe look.

Josie burst into tears at the front desk and the receptionist’s face changed as she realized what a state they

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