Under Covers

twenty-six | monte carlo

twenty-six | monte carlo

the largest quarter in the sovereign city-state of Monaco, which – at just over two square kilometers in area – is the second-smallest nation in the world after the Vatican City

JAKE

May 9th, 13:23 (GMT +2)
6 days until it happens

APPREHENDING A NAKED eighteen year-old girl is not the sort of grand, heroic end to this mission I'd always envisioned.

An unfortunate and unforeseen barrier to reconnaissance at a nude beach is that looking directly at strangers is a perverse, despicable sin and is yet the sole way to identify a missing person. Thank fuck for sunglasses.

I stroll casually along the boardwalk in sandals, a t-shirt, and shorts. Evidently, I am overdressed for the occasion.

Beachgoers young and old are scattered across the sand in various states of undress. Sunbathing women lie topless, stretched across towels and chairs. Several especially courageous buggers – or especially shameless, I can't decide – prance along the shoreline, chucking volleyballs to and fro and letting it all hang loose.

Please let her be clothed... please for the love of God let her be at least partially clothed...

I've pored over files and images of Cassidy Dalton since I was first assigned this case – it theory, I know what she looks like, but in practice, there are multiple complicating factors. What if she dyed her hair? What if she's obscured beneath a large, floppy sun hat? What if she's waded too far into the water for me to find? Peering into a sea of naked people with a pair of binoculars is a recipe for utter disaster.

A shrill whine from about ten metres ahead of me draws my attention. "Maddy!" a young woman huffs. "How many times are we gonna have this same stupid fight? Why did you even come with me if you don't wanna be here?"

A hushed male voice replies, "Quiet down, Cass. I'm fucking tired of running around the world tryna keep you safe when all you wanna do is ignore your problems like a goddamn child. When are you gonna grow the fuck up, huh?"

A knowing rush thrums down my spine. Both converse with North American accents. Maddy... Mati? Matias? And Cass... Not a chance in bloody hell it's a coincidence.

"Ugh!" the girl fusses. "You're not my bodyguard anymore, Mati! Quit trying to protect me all the time!" My eyes track their ping-ponging conversation; a slim blonde woman is sprawled along a lounger on her stomach, gazing up at an athletically-built man with bronzed skin and dark hair. He's in swim trunks, she's wearing absolutely nothing at all. Jesus Christ.

Matias scoffs. "Hijueputa..." he mutters sourly beneath his breath, scrubbing an aggravated hand through the back of his hair. "If I wasn't here to stop you from all the stupid shit you've done this past week, you'd either be back home grounded for life, or fucking dead, cariño. When are you gonna give up, huh?" He pinches his fingers together, "I'm about this close to calling up your old man and putting an end to all this bullshit."

"You wouldn't dare," she fires back. She climbs up on her knees, jabbing a finger at him, their bare chests brushing. "My daddy would fucking kill you if he found out you helped me run away. You know what an asshole he can be."

It's like watching one of my nan's soaps on the telly. Marin's expression clouds over, stricken, like he wants to strangle her and kiss her senseless at the same time. An uncomfortable sense of familiarity thuds beneath my ribs.