Matt made it to the main road, the dog trailing behind him, hoping for more food. Highway 307 was a long row of shops, bars, restaurants, and currency exchange stations. Tourists were drifting in and out of stores, buying trinkets, and shopkeepers sat on stools out front.

Matt’s stomach growled. Like Smiley, who’d wandered into one of the shops, he was hungry. He realized it had been more than twenty-four hours since he’d eaten anything. His appetite was gone. Eating, like other ordinary things, seemed so trivial now. But he couldn’t keep running on only despair. Spotting a cantina, he decided he’d get some food, then find a place to stay. The establishment was seat-yourself, so he took a stool at a tall bar table. A waitress appeared, and she mercifully spoke English. He ordered a Mexican beer and two tacos. When in Rome.

He glanced around the place. In the far corner was a group of young women, loud and rowdy and the epitome of Ugly Americans. A few tables over was a foursome—they looked like tourists from Japan—sitting politely with their neat polo shirts and hands folded. At the bar were a mix of locals and vacationers.

He wondered why his parents had picked Tulum. They’d never talked about going to Mexico. The internet said Tulum was a hot spot for celebrities, cool and off the beaten path. That didn’t sound like Evan Pine’s scene at all. Maybe one of those celebrities—wherever they were, Matt sure as shit didn’t see any—had offered to help with Danny’s case. That seemed a lot more plausible than his father deciding to have an impromptu spring break getaway. Especially since his mother had been in Nebraska. It didn’t make sense.

Matt tapped on his phone, searching travel sites for a place to stay. After several searches, he hadn’t found a single vacancy, not even in the cheap motels. Maybe he could try a walk-in, since the travel websites might not have up-to-date vacancies. Or there might be some dumps too low-end for Expedia. He texted Agent Keller to see if the FBI could arrange accommodations, though he wasn’t holding his breath, since the consular officer hadn’t even bothered to show up at the airport. Worst case, he’d stay out all night. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He started to pull up another site, but a young woman interrupted him.

“Hi,” she said, staring at him with doe eyes as she slipped onto the stool across from him. She had glossy dark hair and high cheekbones and wore a bikini with jean shorts.

“Hi,” he replied, curious. He glanced over toward the group of obnoxious American women, since he assumed she was part of their group, but they were gone.

“I’m so sorry, but would you mind if I sat with you for a few minutes?” Before Matt could respond, she said, “Behind me, those two guys at the bar. I don’t want them to know I’m here alone.”

Matt shot a quick glance toward the bar. He saw two hard-looking men with crude tattoos hunched over their beers.

“I promise, I’m not a stalker.” She had full lips, and her face lit up when she smiled.

“It’s no problem. They were bothering you?”

She nodded, twisted a strand of her hair. “Once they go, I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

He didn’t say so, but he actually liked the company. It had been a long, lonely day.

“I’m Hank, by the way,” she said.

“Hank,” he repeated.

“My dad wanted a boy,” she explained with the practice of someone with an unusual name. She had an accent. It wasn’t Southern, more Midwestern, a rural lilt. It reminded Matt of his friend Kala’s twang when they’d first met, before she started hiding it.

Hank laughed hard at nothing, then reached over and placed her hand on Matt’s. “Sorry,” she said. “Just in case they’re watching.”

The waitress brought over his beer and the tacos. Matt asked if Hank wanted anything, but she ordered just a glass of water.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to drink the water?” Matt said.

“I’m an Oklahoma girl; I can handle it.”

“I knew it, a Midwesterner. I’m one too. I used to live in Nebraska.”

“You’re a Cornhusker? I think I’d better take my chances with the creeps,” she said, smiling. “Where in Nebraska?”

“I moved a long time ago, and you wouldn’t have heard of it anyway.”

“Where do you live now?”

“New York, I go to NYU. But my home is just outside Chicago.” Matt looked down at the table. Was Naperville his home anymore? Was there anything left for him there? When he raised his eyes, Hank was studying him.

“So, you waitin’ on someone, friends?” she asked.

Matt shook his head. “I’m here on my own.”

She tilted her head to the side, gave him a curious look. But she didn’t ask.

“How about you? You’re here by yourself?” Matt asked, his eyes sliding back to the men at the bar who’d been bothering her.

She frowned. “I’m here for a bachelorette party.” Lowering her voice, she said, “I can’t stand the bride or her friends.”

“No?” It was a long way to come for someone she didn’t like.

“My brother’s fiancée,” she explained.

“Ah,” Matt said.

“The things we do for family, right?”

Matt took a swig of his beer, felt a sting in his chest.

“They’re all her friends and super drunk and annoying,” she continued, “so I hung back when they hopped to the next bar. But she makes my brother happy, so what can you do?”

“The elusive hunt for happiness,” Matt said. God knows Matt had been on that pursuit for some time. Even before, he wouldn’t say he’d been depressed or even sad. Despite the friction, he always knew his family loved him. He had close friends he cared about and who cared about him. He had, for all intents and purposes, a privileged life. But there was always this hollowed-out feeling in his chest he hadn’t been able to shake since Year Zero. “I took a class on happiness at school,” he said.

Hank stared at him, openmouthed. “Wait, you’re telling me that your college, which probably cost more than a house in Arkoma, has classes on happiness?” She said it like she was really dumbfounded.

Matt smiled, realizing how it must sound. “The class is called ‘The Science of Happiness.’ And it wasn’t so much about how to be happy, but about dealing with mental health wellness. But they did teach us an exercise that can make you happier.”

“Having rich parents,” Hank said, with a smile.

“No, it’s not money or status or even a fiancée that makes people happy.”

She leaned in, excited to learn the secret.

“It’s kindness,” Matt said. “Studies prove that doing five random acts of kindness a day leads to more happiness. But it has to be five, for some reason. I forget why.”

Hank narrowed her eyes. “So is that why you let me sit here, to meet your daily quota or something?” She smiled again.

The waitress came over with the water. Matt looked at Hank. “You sure you don’t want anything?”

“You know what, why not?” she said. “I’ll have a margarita.”

“Make that two,” Matt said.

CHAPTER 19

Matt peered over at the bar and noticed that the guys who’d been bothering Hank were gone. He was almost disappointed, since he was enjoying her company. He learned that she was an avid football fan and wasn’t kidding about her disdain for Nebraska, even though the Cornhusker–Sooner rivalry had died down in recent years. He also learned that she’d dropped out of community college, but planned to go back. That she was a hairstylist. That she loved dogs. He avoided telling her why he was there. It was all mindless small talk, precisely what he needed.

“They’re gone,” Matt said, directing his gaze to the bar.

She looked over her shoulder, and let out an exaggerated sigh of relief.

“Want me to walk you out to get a cab in case they’re still hanging around outside?”

“I have a rental car. But if you wouldn’t mind walking with me…?”

It was dark outside, late. The men were nowhere to be seen, which was a good thing. Matt could hold his own, but there were two of them and they looked like they’d been in their share of fights. And after he’d lost control on that frat boy, he’d pledged to stop with the fisticuffs.

A dog ran up to them. It was Smiley from earlier.

“Speaking of stalkers, this guy’s been following me since I got here.”

Hank crouched down and cupped Smiley’s face in her hand. “Oh my god. He’s so cute. Look at this face!”

The dog followed them down the main drag. Hank said, “He’s so friendly. I heard that you’ve got to be careful. There’re packs of wild dogs around here that are dangerous.” She looked at Smiley again. “But not this sweet boy.”

“You staying nearby?” Matt asked.

“No, we’re right on the beach. They wanted to be adventurous and explore the bars here in town. How about you?”

“I actually need to find a place. I was supposed to be in for just the day, but got delayed.”

“You came all the way here with nowhere to stay?” She seemed amused by that.

“Long story.”

“I’ll bet.”

“I’ll find somewhere.”

She gave him a sideways look like she knew better during the busy season. She stopped at a beat-up Toyota parked haphazardly on a side street.