I WISH THAT I COULD TELL YOU

Chapter 5 - in which Shawn thinks it's like the plot of a bad movie

Shawn was tired when he reached the hotel. It was about one pm. He'd been unable to get hold of Camila last night and he was worried about her. He staggered off the bus and Andrew had already sorted out his room and gave him the key.

"I'll see you later, get a bit of sleep," he laughed. Shawn just smiled and when he got in the elevator he leaned back against the wall and yawned. He just needed to get hold of Camila to find out where she was.

The room was large, a two bedroom suite. He didn't know why Andrew booked him into such a big room, it was more what he would have when his family was with him, and it just made him miss them more. He showered and closed the blinds, slipping into bed. He shot off a quick text to Camila asking her to call him as soon as she got the message, set an alarm for two hours, and five minutes later he was asleep.

A knock on the door woke him. He looked at his phone, he'd been asleep for an hour. He got up and yelled through the door, asking who it was.

"It's me." Andrew. "I need to talk to you."

Shawn felt a sour churning in his stomach. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He could feel it. He opened he door, and one look at his manager's face confirmed it. He stepped back to let the older man enter the room.

"What's going on, tell me." He demanded.

"Sit down," Andrew said and Shawn knew when he was getting a serious order and did as he said.

"Camila rang me a couple of days ago. She said she was coming here to surprise you. She and Lita."

Shawn jumped up. "Really? Wow I thought you had bad news for me, that's fantastic."

Andrew held up a hand.

"She arrived yesterday afternoon, she texted me to say she was on her way to the hotel."

"I don't understand," Shawn said, frowning.

"Shawn, she didn't make it. We think she took a taxi for some reason. The hotel manager says that it is a common scam to pick up foreigners at the airport and take them to the bank to withdraw all their money, but occasionally it goes wrong, or they are held for ransom."

Oh God, Camila and Lita were missing. Anything could have happened to them.  He needed to vomit.

"We have to find them!" He was pacing, there was a loud noise in his head, his own inner voice yelling NO NO NO NO! This can't be happening. "We have to call the police!"

"Sit down Shawn, the police are on their way, we need to ring her parents and let them know."

"Jesus," he raked his hand through his hair, when he really wanted to grab hold of it tightly in each hand and pull it out by the roots. He couldn't even comprehend what was happening, his brain simply refused to acknowledge it. "How can I tell them? WHAT will I tell them? Maybe I should meet with the police first."

There was a knock at the door and he literally hurdled the couch to answer it. Please be Camila, please be Camila. He opened it, his heart pounding. A Mexican man stood there, flanked by two police officers. The first thing Shawn noticed were his eyes, they were kind and sympathetic, but instead of making him feel better, it made him very, very scared. The man was quite a bit shorter than Shawn, and a bit older, probably in his early forties. He had thick black hair lightly sprinkled with grey and wore jeans and a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up under a bullet proof vest bearing the title "Policia". There was a badge clipped to his belt, and a holster carrying a gun on his hip.

"Mr Mendes? I am Chief Inspector Investigator Max Garcia with the Policia Federal Ministerial, I am part of a federal task force into kidnappings of foreigners in Mexico City. We have received a report that your daughter and her mother were kidnapped from the airport yesterday afternoon."