We come across a bone-skinny man trying and failing to get into his room and I realize I know him. It’s Hal! Hal from my snorkeling excursion. “Hal!” I say. “It’s me, Laurel, from Cozumel? We met on the catamaran.” “Oh yeah?” There’s no warmth on his face, only suspicion. “Where’s Peggy?” I ask. “Who knows!” he roars. “She went off with someone and maybe they’re inside! The door is locked! My key won’t work! They locked me out! LET ME IN!” He pounds on the door. “Okay,” Tom says. “We’ll help. But calm down.” Hal shoves his key card at us. “It won’t work. I’m trying it and trying it and I can’t get in.” “What’s your room number?” I ask. “Room 6207, of course. 6207. 6207!” Tom looks at me. Without saying anything, he steps to the next suite. (Hal was trying 6205.) Tom double-taps the key card to the lock. It opens. “Ugkk,” Hal spits. “Of course.” He storms into the room and suddenly turns. His eyes narrow, becoming wary.
