Sebastian Chavez worked tirelessly to keep what he called mini-ZilkerLand in good order. The genuine Zilker Botanical Gardens in the centre of Austin were a thing of true natural beauty, a place he knew Sebastian never tired of visiting.

The Harley announced his approach with the low-pitched rumble from its engine. Shadows from the trees and bushes within the garden danced and lengthened as they were briefly illuminated. Sebastian and Salma Chavez lived in the large house all year round, groundsman and housekeeper. They lived in their own section of the house, into which Clay seldom ventured, though while Clay was away on one of his many extended road trips they had the full run of the place. He hadn’t let them know of his return, but he hoped there’d be something on the stove. His mouth watered at the thought of one of Selma’s spicy pot stickers and herb-rich mashed potatoes.

The garage interior was pristine. Not so much as an oil spot on the floor. His other motorcycles were parked in a diagonal pattern, each road-ready and perfectly maintained. Two cars sat alongside the bikes. A Nissan Armada SUV used for everyday tasks stood next to a fully restored 1974 Dodge Charger. The SUV looked like an army utility vehicle next to the bright orange muscle car. The garage smelled of wax, the vehicles gleaming. Sebastian had been busy. Clay parked the Harley in its slot and, hefting his travel bag onto his back, went inside.

The familiar coolness was a balm to his sun-kissed skin. The house was quiet. He glanced at his watch, raising his eyebrows. Nearly eight in the evening. Strange there was no pot bubbling in the kitchen. Salma was a creature of habit.

He knocked on the door that separated Salma and Sebastian’s quarters from the main house. When the door opened, Sebastian had dark rings below his eyes, which told of more than one sleepless night.

“Hello, Clay. Welcome back.” Sebastian’s wan smile carried none of its usual enthusiasm. His hair looked unkempt, which was out of character, and even more telling was the thick growth of stubble that darkened his jaw.

Clay frowned. “Everything okay, buddy?”

Sebastian’s Adam’s apple bobbed before he answered. “No, my friend.”

“What’s going on? Is Salma okay?”

“It’s not Salma. It’s Celine.”

“Little Celine? What’s happened?”

Sebastian rubbed his palms on the front of his plain cotton shirt, as if not sure what else to do with his hands. “You’d better come through. Salma is on the phone to the police in Cancún.”

Clay walked behind his friend, a sense of dread growing in his stomach. Although Celine had turned eighteen a few months earlier, she was still a child to him. It seemed only yesterday she had been a kid in elementary school.