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She held her gun and badge over her head to let the first responders streaming into the parking garage know she was on their side. She summarized the situation for them, then tossed a patrol officer the keys to her handcuffs. She needed to get going. She had to make her way to Santa Martha Jail to make sure Salvador Perez hadn’t been targeted, too. Then she needed to sit down with Gilberto Ruiz and find out who had ordered him to kill her.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The paramedic examining the cut on her arm clamped a latex glove-covered hand around her wrist. “You need stitches and a bandage. A tetanus shot wouldn’t hurt, either.”

“Do what you have to do,” Luisa said impatiently. “Just make it fast. I’ve got somewhere I need to be.”

The paramedic rolled his eyes. “Male or female, you cops are all alike.”

She followed him to his rig and sat on a gurney while he tended to her wound.

“Moreno.”

She looked up to find Gilberto Ruiz, his hands cuffed behind his back, glaring at her vindictively as he resisted the officers’ attempts to put him in the back of their squad car. She tried not to tremble as she met his eye. His cold, unfeeling gaze had very nearly been the last thing she had seen. But his words struck even more fear into her heart than his dead-eyed stare.

“You’re going to die today, bitch. You and everyone you love.”

❖

After the tour bus pulled into the half-empty parking lot at the foot of the site containing the ruins of Chichén Itzá, Richard counted heads and handed out tiny red radios dangling from plastic lanyards.

“The radios should be tuned to channel twenty-three. If you place the earbuds in your ears, you will be able to hear me speak even if you decide to wander off on your own. The vendors you see here are only a few of the ones scattered around the site, which covers nearly two square miles. We will be here for two hours. You are free to spend your time as you wish—shopping or following me around the ruins. If you do go off on your own, please be sure to meet the rest of the group at the bus at noon. We will be heading back to the resort promptly at twelve fifteen. We should arrive around two thirty. Just in time for a late lunch. Any questions?”

Finn looked around, but no one raised her hand.

“Good. Let’s go.”

Finn and the rest of the group followed Richard through the gates. A short time later, they passed a restaurant and gift shop, modern additions that contrasted sharply with the ancient ruins they had come to see.

“An estimated one point two million tourists visit the ruins every year,” Richard said. “We’re here relatively early so the grounds shouldn’t be too crowded. We’ll probably have to share our stay with a few students on field trips, but we shouldn’t have to deal with the masses of tourists that will be streaming in later in the day.”

The temperature wasn’t too bad yet, but Finn could feel it starting to rise. She took a sip of her bottled water so she could stay hydrated. Beside her, Ryan mirrored her action.

“The buildings of Chichén Itzá are grouped into a series of complexes,” Richard said. “Today, we’re going to focus on the best known. The Great North Platform includes the monuments of El Castillo, the Temple of Warriors, and the Great Ball Court. Directly ahead of you is El Castillo, also known as the Temple of Kukulkán.”

He pointed to the pyramid that was the most recognizable of all the ruins in Chichén Itzá. The pre-Columbian structure stood ninety-eight feet tall and consisted of a series of nine square terraces. Each side of the pyramid featured a stairway that rose at a forty-five-degree angle. Finn was amazed by the ancient builders’ ability to create such precise measurements using such primitive implements. Like the pyramids of Egypt, which she had also been privileged to see in person, the feat was an engineering marvel she couldn’t wrap her head around even as she admired its beauty.

“I’ll bet running those stairs would be a serious workout, especially in this heat,” Ryan said.

“I doubt you’d get very far.”

Finn indicated the ropes surrounding the base of the pyramid, barriers installed to prevent trespassers from inflicting damage to the centuries-old structure by enacting the exercise routine Ryan had just mentioned.

“Details.”

“This pyramid was constructed in honor of the serpent god Kukulkán,” Richard continued, speaking into the headset microphone transmitting his voice to the radios he had disseminated earlier. “Notice the snake heads at the base of the pyramid? During the spring and autumn equinoxes, the northwest corner of the pyramid casts shadows on the north balustrade that look like a serpent crawling down the stairs.”

“Cool,” Finn said as she snapped a few pictures.

“You really get into this stuff, don’t you?” Ryan asked.

“Don’t you?” Finn took another sip of water from her slowly dwindling supply. She reminded herself not to drink it too fast so she wouldn’t run out before the end of the two-hour tour. “I mean, isn’t that why you’re here?”

Ryan looked sheepish.

“To be honest, I only signed up because Jill seemed so into it. We haven’t spent much time together this week and I thought this outing would help us fix that. Then she changed her mind to watch wrestling, the only ‘sport’ I can’t stand.”

Finn smiled as she realized Jill’s feelings for Ryan might not be quite so one-sided after all.

“I have a feeling she misses you, too.”

“You think so?” Ryan asked hopefully.

“I know so.”

Finn turned her attention back to Richard as he demonstrated El Castillo’s peculiar acoustics. When he clapped his hands on one side of the pyramid, the echo sounded normal. On the other side, the reverberation sounded like the chirp of a native bird.

“Whose idea was it for you to try out for Friends and Lovers, Jill’s or yours?” Finn asked.

Ryan screwed up her face as she slowly clapped her hands and tried to figure out the secret behind the odd echo.

“Mine,” she said, abandoning her quest. “Our friends are always saying we’re like an old married couple. Tonight gives us a chance to either prove or disprove the theory. Don’t you have someone in your life like that? Someone who knows you better than you know yourself?”

Finn thought it over as they followed Richard and the rest of the group to the Great Ball Court, the largest and best preserved court of its kind. The playing area was more than five hundred fifty feet long, and the surrounding walls were twenty-six feet high. Rings carved with intertwined serpents were set high up in the center of each wall. At the base were sculpted stone panels inscribed with images of ball players. On one panel, one of the players had been decapitated, giving new meaning to the phrase “life-and-death-competition.”

“I don’t make friends easily,” Finn said at length. “I’ve found that most situations tend to work out better for me if I don’t let people get too close.”

“You could have fooled me. You’ve been right in the middle of things all week, not on the outside looking in. Well, you started out that way, but you’ve been a social butterfly ever since.”

Finn started to protest until she realized it was true. She had been forced to take some quiet time Monday morning, but she hadn’t felt the need to repeat the ritual since. In fact, she had found herself looking forward to each day’s long list of activities so she could see what she would do—and who she might meet—next. Would she still feel this way after she completed her story? When she got back to the “real world” in a few days, would she discover her newfound comfort was exclusive to this trip and the group of women sharing it with her, or would it follow her home?

“This week has been the exception rather than the rule.”

She looked at the entrance to the Lower Temple of the Jaguar. The columns were covered in elaborate bas-relief carvings, and a worn Jaguar throne, also carved of stone, sat in the entrance.

“Why is that?” Ryan asked.

Finn felt a familiar sense of dread. How much should she reveal about herself? Should she tell Ryan everything or just enough to answer her question?

“I grew up in a small town in Montana,” she said, reciting an oft-told tale. “Neighbors were few and far between. The few friends I had were people I’d known all my life. We attended the same one-room schoolhouse from the time we were eight years old until we graduated high school. I experienced serious shell shock when I got to college. I had never seen so many people gathered in one place at one time. I was used to having my neighbors live hundreds of acres away, not a few feet. Freshman year was rough. Every day felt like a test I hadn’t adequately studied for. I survived, but I still prefer living in my own bubble in my own space.”

“But you’re in San Francisco now, right? There aren’t many wide open spaces there.”

“You’d be surprised. I work out of my apartment most of the time, so I don’t have to deal with a commute. And even when I go out, there are plenty of places to choose from that aren’t crawling with tourists. There’s a pedestrian walkway on the Golden Gate Bridge that makes you feel like you’re walking in the clouds, especially when the fog rolls in. There are also a ton of parks to choose from, and the Japanese Tea Garden is a great place to meditate. So, even in a city of millions, I can feel like I’m all alone.”

“Don’t you miss Montana?” Ryan asked as she slathered more sunscreen on her arms. “The pictures I’ve seen make it seem so beautiful there.”

“It is. The views are some of the most amazing you can find in the whole country. But the nearest airport is a three-hour drive from my parents’ house, which would make it extremely inconvenient for me to move back to my hometown and continue to travel as much as I do. Most of my family still lives in Montana. I go back to visit them a couple times a year. I enjoy the time I spend with them, but it doesn’t feel like home anymore.”

“I know how you feel. I love going home for the holidays each year, but I love returning to my own life even more. Since you seem to prefer your own company, I’m guessing a relationship is out of the question.”

“Too many places to see. Too many things to do.”

“You must save all the romance for your books because your life seems to have a distinct lack of it.”

Finn started to protest but held her tongue because Ryan was right. She had sex—lots of it—but romance had always been a rarity in her life. Romance was more than a torrid affair or a brief hook-up. When was the last time she had bought a Valentine’s Day card or received one in return? When was the last time she had viewed a relationship as something with the potential to be long lasting instead of temporary? Longer than she was willing to admit. But Luisa made her want to do all those things and more. Had her latest change of scenery caused her to have an unexpected change of heart?

She had felt a connection with Luisa from the moment they met. At the time, she’d thought the bond was only sexual. The time they’d spent exploring each other’s bodies hadn’t done much to disprove the theory. Over the past week, however, she had slowly discovered the connection she felt with Luisa was more than physical. It was emotional as well. And it seemed to be getting deeper every day. Now the accompanying feelings were too strong to ignore.

She and Luisa needed to talk. And not on the phone this time. They needed to talk face-to-face. And when they did, Finn needed to tell Luisa her whole story, not the airbrushed version she usually trotted out at parties. She needed to tell Luisa about her fear and uncertainty. All the things she usually tried to hide. Because in order to win Luisa’s heart, she needed to show Luisa what was in hers.

Richard’s voice drew Finn from her reverie.

“If you will follow me through the market, I’ll take you to the Cenote Sagrado, the sinkhole that once provided water to the Mayans. It’s a bit of a hike, but if you’re up to the task, you’ll be rewarded with shade at the end of the journey.”

Finn and the rest of the tour group walked down a sloping dirt walkway. Vendors lined both sides. Their booths offered everything from T-shirts bearing screen-printed images of El Castillo to hand-knitted blankets depicting Mayan warriors in full battle dress to replica jerseys of the Mexican national soccer team’s most popular players. Finn slowed in front of a booth laden with hand-carved treasures of all kinds: animal figurines, decorative masks, and tiny articulated skeletons in honor of the Day of the Dead.

The booth’s owner, a slight young man in a Mickey Mouse T-shirt and designer knockoff skinny jeans, sat on an overturned five-gallon bucket. Finn stopped to watch him work. Wood shavings fell at his sneaker-clad feet as the rectangular block of wood in his hands slowly began to mimic the form of the crouching jaguar tattooed on his left forearm.

“Would you like to see my little shop?” he asked without looking up. “Everything one dollar. Practically free.”

Finn didn’t want to buy anything. She just wanted to watch him work. She raised her camera and took several pictures as the pile of wood shavings continued to grow. The vendor’s hair fell into his eyes as he hunched over the carving, preventing Finn from getting any good shots of his face. She didn’t mind, though, because his strong, skilled hands were his most memorable feature.

“Nice work,” she said.

“Thank you,
señorita
.”

“Are you coming, Finn?” Ryan asked.

“I’m right behind you.”

Finn took one last photograph of the vendor before she left his booth to join Ryan standing near a pair of tourists haggling over the price of a ceramic replica of El Castillo. She and Ryan continued down the dirt path. A few minutes later, they joined the rest of their group in a wooded area overlooking a deep hole. Finn sighed at the drastic drop in temperature. She hoped Richard’s upcoming lecture would be long-winded instead of brief. She wanted to enjoy the shade as long as she could before she resumed baking in the sun.

“The Sacred Cenote,
Cenote Sagrado
in Spanish, is also known as the Well of Sacrifice,” Richard said. “The Mayans performed sacrifices, sometimes human, in honor of the rain god Chaac. When the cenote was dredged one hundred years ago, artifacts of jade, gold, pottery, and incense were discovered, along with human remains. As you can probably tell from what you’ve learned today, the average life span wasn’t very long during the pre-Columbian period. In certain parts of the country, it still isn’t. That’s why I don’t want my son to go into politics when he grows up. It’s much too corrupt a profession. But that’s just my opinion. You’re free to disagree with me if you want.”