Page 36 of Look for Me

Martin realized he was still standing in the apparel shop. He had to come up with a reason for going into a store and then working on his phone instead of shopping.

He smiled. “Can’t get away from work even when I’m on vacation.”

She smiled.

“Yes, you might be able to help me.” Martin put away his phone for a second time in minutes. “I’m looking for a tee shirt for my dad. He wears XXL, but sometimes those things run small, you know?”

“We have large tee shirts here.” The salesperson led Martin down a row of shirts and sweatshirts and ball caps.

“It has to be one hundred percent cotton. He won’t wear anything else.”

“Of course. We have all sorts of materials.” She pointed. “Cotton here. Blended there.”

“Thank you. And where are the women’s sweatshirts? I’m looking for something for my sister too.”

The girl pointed. “If there’s anything else I can help you with, just let me know.”

“I will. Thank you.”

When she left Martin alone in a sea of pastel-colored shirts, Martin felt overwhelmed. He had never shopped for Dad. What would he wear? Tina would know, but Martin wasn’t about to call her just to ask a simple question.

He decided to buy a tee shirt he himself liked. Maybe Dad would like it too. And if Dad didn’t, Martin could wear it.

Ten minutes and six shirts later—three tee shirts for the summer and three sweatshirts for the mild Savannah winter—Martin walked out into the sunshine and to a text from Pilar. He sent her the photographs he had taken of the men and their car, with a short reply. “You’re welcome.”

Then he walked down to the ice-cream shop and bought a sorbet for the warm afternoon. Instead of walking up and down the main street like a typical tourist, he decided to find a bookstore to while away the entire afternoon.

What choice did he have?

The chocolate shop hadn’t called him back about a job. He wondered if he should call the owner about it. On the other hand, if he worked there, it might complicate things. He might accidentally call Dinah by her real name.

Or something.

Across the busy street, and away from his car, Martin found an antiquarian bookstore with equally old chairs in it where he could sit down to read on his phone.

Unfortunately, the signal inside the old store was intermittent, and Martin found himself walking back outside.

I am really wasting time.

The sun baked the concrete pavement at ninety degrees this afternoon, and Martin knew he could not sit in his car in this sort of weather. His best bet was to return to the hotel.

On the one hand, there was little he could do in Key Largo. Even if he confronted Corinne again, there was no guarantee that she would be upfront with him and answer every question he had.

And he had many questions.

The most neutral ground he had found so far—maybe a safe space—was at church. However, church wasn’t for another six days.

The next best thing that could happen was for Martin to get concrete news from Pilar. However, Pilar also might not share everything with him until her final report, whenever that was.

Martin walked back to his Shelby, feeling alone.

Just me and my car.

He turned on the air-conditioner at full blast, and started to drive south. Key West was only ninety-seven miles from here. Even if he drove slowly, he’d still get there in under three hours. That would take him to about four o’clock in the afternoon.

Maybe he could find a place to sit and stare at the ocean.

To think.

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