Lionel's patience paid off. Within an hour, the beach was crowded, and the girl’s parents looked pretty groggy from the booze. The kid had built a castle and was ferrying sticks and leaves from the wooded lot to make it look real to her. She was pretty good at it he thought, as he admired the contrast between her orangey red-gold hair and the little two-piece, white outfit. He’d seated himself on the gunnel of a seaworthy pirogue optimistically called the Jubilee that would be afloat in the bay if the tide weren’t out, so she had to pass and greet him now and then for wet sand to build the ramparts of her sand castle with. Each pass increased her familiarity with him and lessened any hesitancy of proximity she may otherwise have felt. He pointed out a few shells that might interest her. They did and she thanked him with a grin. He shared a conspiratorial wink with her.

She grinned back with a small wave.

Later, he moved back to the tree line just inside the shade and sat on a partially overgrown, downed palm trunk, attentive to the progress she was making with her sand castle. She approached the tree line. She wasn’t aware that the big, black stranger was almost directly in front of her. She was looking intently for something on the ground. She stooped to catch a tiny lizard. He hesitated, afraid of lizards. She dropped to her hands and knees and then tried to stop the lizard from scampering under a partially buried palm log. Lionel almost made his move, but she straightened up before he could. Her mother called from under her enormous sun hat. He froze. “Yeah, mum,” she responded, but paid no attention and walked right past him with a brief nod of acknowledgement. Her mother slipped back into doze mode. The girl wandered closer to the trees, intent on something, maybe another lizard.  He couldn’t see. She got down on her hands and knees. It looked like she was trying to catch something. Her body froze, and then she gently scooped something up. It was a small snake. Lionel wasn’t afraid of lizards, but he was terrified of snakes. Fascinated, they both watched as it wound its red, yellow and black striped body around her wrist. Holding it at eye level, she looked at it closely as the snake appeared to do the same back. Its tongue flickered. She grinned at it, bent down and released it back into the beach grass. 

The snake was breathing hard, happy to have survived another narrow escape.

Pleased with herself, she waded through the longer grass to where waves of broad-leafed vines tangled in mounds over fallen tree trunks. She was close, but not close enough. Lionel was shaken. He knew what that snake was. A Coral snake, one of the deadliest snakes in Trinidad and all of Central and South America. He was so glad he’d waited. He was sweating profusely now as his narrow escape sank in. Not a good omen. He nearly walked away, but the thought of his empty bank account stopped him.

As she sidled between clumps of vegetation, she stopped abruptly. Her flip-flop had come off while trying to block another lizard from escaping. Instead, her flip-flop caught under the log and came off. Down on hands and knees, she was struggling to free it when he swooped, gathered her in his arms and put a hand over her mouth before she could utter a sound. He stepped out of sight, into the deep shadows. She squirmed, but Penniless arrived with the tape and the cable ties. In a moment, she’d been bound and zipped into the hockey bag.

At the car, Penniless dropped the bag into the trunk, slammed it shut, slid behind the wheel, turned the key and - nothing. The car wouldn’t start. It turned over but wouldn’t catch. Neither man was a mechanic. In an instant, they went from jovial swingers to edginess with a bubbling undertone of violence. Both men broke into the heavy sweat of near panic.

Lionel, feeling ready to commit murder, called his friend to find out what to do. “Jess, be patient,” Gorby said. “You probly jess flooded it. Once de extra gas evaporate, it start right up. Wait bout fifteen minutes, mon. Where ah you anyway? What time ah you comen back? My Maria goan wanna lime this evnen bro.”

“You say tomorrow, mon! What de fock?” Lionel expostulated.“Nah, mon, not to worry, jess funnen which ya. I take ‘er in de Nissan. But I be needen it tomorrow fo sho.”

“Okay, not to worry, mon, we be back before den if dis moke will start.”“Okay, mind you do. Give it a shot in a few minutes. Don’t touch de gas.” was his parting advice.

Having no choice they decided to wait the fifteen minutes. But “not wit the chile in de caa,” said Lionel to Jocko. “Take de chile over der in de trees across de road mon. If de parents show up before de caa start, we doan want to be sittin’ here like a couple of morons wid a chile  in de bag maken a fuss.”

“No, you take her. If de mudda and fadda show up an see yo ass, yo’s a suspect right away. They prolly see you on de beach, mon. She’s all fo yo, hea,” and he hoisted the bag out of the trunk and shoved it, squirming into Lionel’s arms.

Lionel carried the writhing bag across the street and waited among a stand of trees out of sight, dropped it, put his big foot on it to keep it still then peered out from heavy cover. 

Frantic parents soon emerged onto the road just as the engine caught. “Did you see a small red-haired child in a while outfit  come this way?" Phillip asked, approaching the car.

“No mon,” Jocko replied, “I been here about half an hour fixin’ ma caa. I see her if she come dis way fo sho. Did you check up de beach bote ways?”

“Not yet, thanks.” They hurried back to the beach and split up, but not before Phillip had checked the trunk for his missing daughter. All he saw was beach paraphernalia. What he didn’t notice was the tape and cable ties just visible poking out from under a towel. Later, he had total recall, but it didn’t help now; he was too distraught.

Lionel strolled back across the road with the still-wriggling bag, loaded it into the trunk, and they set off up the road for the swamp.

…

There was no sign of their daughter. The Fitzsimmons were frantic and sober. Phillip had thought to call the police the moment he’d opened his eyes and not seen Quinn. Another quick scan up and down the beach confirmed her absence. His first thought was that she’d gone back into the house. He could hear Cheryl in the house screaming for Quinn. Phillip scanned the beach both ways again, hoping for a miracle. She could be in the trees picking flowers, though she’d been told many times to stay on the beach where they could keep an eye on her.

Eventually, it was clear: they had to admit their daughter was missing for sure. He called the police back, frantic now.  

His call was answered promptly. He quickly described the circumstances. The officer at the other end of the line gave him a list of things to do. The man told them he would alert a constable he thought was currently in the area. “I be in touch, mon,” he said after noting Phillip’s cell. 

Cheryl was questioning people while heading north up the beach. Yes, they’d seen her but didn’t notice where she went. None of them recalled seeing her in the water. So the house was the logical next step, except that Cheryl had searched the two-story building already from top to bottom. 

Phillip headed the other way, tears starting to come. He felt sick to his stomach. He knew Cheryl would be feeling the same.

It only took a minute to search it again and eliminate the house from their search as panic took hold. From there, it was the lot next door. It occurred to them that she might have just gone down the beach and hadn’t realized how far she’d gone. Maybe she was even lost. They decided to check, but first, they went out to the road to make sure she wasn’t out there for some reason. They had checked the road first. It had been empty but for a grey car being worked on by its owner. The man had assured them their daughter could not have come this way. It was clear she was not in the car, he’d looked, and the trunk lid had been up. It was empty. Forty-five minutes later, they knew Quinn was gone for doubly sure, and they had a problem. She would never leave them for this long and not return - especially in a strange place. They were frantic as they talked to the police again.

The police were unsympathetic. A new man was on the police desk. “She not a missing person until three days have passed. Three hours have not passed mon. Call back in a couple of days. Until then, she be walkin’ about.” Click.

Phillip was aghast at the callous response. The parents looked at each other, it was dawning on them that their lives had maybe changed forever unless Quinn magically reappeared. 

Phillip picked up the phone again as Cheryl Googled the Canadian Embassy.

It was dark. Phillip had put long pants and shoes on and had searched that wooded lot next to their villa in case she'd fallen and knocked herself out. Two hours and many mosquito bites later, there was no sign of Quinn. 

Quinn was gone. She was only seven years old. It was January 1, 2009…