Page 2 of Johnny

of money being made drugs are almost always involved.

But I’ve been to this one before a long time ago. I came here with my father and uncle when I was

about to turn eighteen and I stayed in one of the bungalows while they went off to some other island

for an auction.

I wasn’t told what was being sold at the auction, and they didn’t come back with anything, so it’s

possible they were just lookers, not buyers. But Charlotte was there with a few other Way teens too. I

guess, maybe, it could’ve been considered some kind of vacation. Some kind of special Way summer

camp. Because for three days we did shit like that. Scuba diving, and boating, and bonfires at night.

I’d met Charlotte before, but not any of the other kids. Two boys my age, two other girls as well.

It’s almost like we were paired off.

But here’s the thing about Way kids. We know what’s up. We might not know specifics, but we feel

it. And there was no way any of us were getting involved with each other while we spent time on that

island. Not a chance in hell that we’d pair off and shack up. We barely talked to each other. Everyone

was quiet, and introspective, and suspicious of each other. Like we were all spies. I was spying on

them, and they were spying on me, and at the end, if anyone said something inappropriate or did

something crazy, we’d be punished.

That was fine with me because I’m a loner anyway. And thinking back on it now, I think they were

all loners too. Even Charlotte, who, in just a few short years, would make a name for herself as an

out-of-control socialite.

Charlotte could be here. If not on this specific island I have coordinates for, then possibly one of

the others owned by the Way. I don’t know where any of the others are and even though the Caribbean

is mostly ocean, there’s more than seven thousand individual islands that make up more than a million

square miles of land mass.

Needle meet haystack.

But I have to start somewhere. If I didn’t have this one island as a starting point, it would be an

impossible search. But I do have this one clue and she did go missing in the Straits of Florida so…

here I am.

Charlotte Kane is the key. I know it. It’s more of a sick feeling in my gut than anything specific, but

I have learned over the years that a gut feeling is always worth listening to.

I have kept tabs on her over the years. It’s part of my job. Her family is one of my Contributors. It’s