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    “I can’t. Once this German team is in, I’ve got to get them settled into the hostel, then on a bus to the center. At least let me walk you out. We can talk on the way.” Holly was treading on Vicki’s heels in her urgency, the worried owl look back.
     
    Vicki stifled another sigh but slowed her steps. “Fine, talk.”
     
    “It’s . . . well, I want you to come up to the center with me tomorrow. To do what you do in your projects—you know, an investigation.”
     
    “What?” Vicki stopped short to fix Holly with an incredulous stare before  hurrying toward the escalator. “Are you crazy? Or are you forgetting that I came here to do a job? One I’m late for right now.”
     
    “They won’t mind if you tell them you need to reschedule,” Holly insisted. “I mean, you’re not exactly talking emergency here, right? I’m just asking for a week or two, okay? After all, you’ve got to have some vacation time.”
     
    As they stepped off the escalator on the ground floor, Holly linked arms with Vicki, raising her voice above the noise of the arrivals hall. “I’ve been thinking about this since I found out you were coming to Guatemala, and now with this past week . . . anyway, the interpreter who was supposed to work with the German team bailed out. They all speak English, so I figured you could take his place. Kind of undercover, you know.”
     
    Vicki demanded, “Exactly how does that qualify as a vacation? Besides, you know I don’t like mountains.”
     
    “Now that’s crazy. I’ve never understood why you have such a thing about mountains.”
     
    “They’re cold and wet and gloomy. Give me a warm beach if I’m going on vacation.” Vicki couldn’t keep the irritation from her tone. Trust Holly to turn this into something personal. And to expect Vicki to just drop her job and plans anytime she needed—no, wanted —Vicki to come running. “Holly, if this is one of your crusades, I just don’t have time right now. I do need a vacation but a real one.”
     
    “What do you mean, my crusades? When have I ever asked you to get involved before?”
     
    “Oh no? What about that spotted owl thing? You were so sure you’d seen one and that the loggers were covering it up. Except that one turned out to be actually quite common. But not before you’d used my name in a letter-writing campaign that had the EPA all over the local lumber industry.”
     
    “That was eleventh grade!”
     
    “And the elephants in the circus? You discovered they were being used for heavy labor and called PETA. But these elephants were bred in India as work animals.”
     
    “I don’t believe in exploiting performing animals. Besides, this is different. This is my job.”
     
    Holly’s distress was so evident that Vicki stopped as they exited the glass doors onto the street. “Okay, what’s so wrong with your environmental paradise that you need your own PI?” She looked at her watch. “And keep it to the condensed version.”
     
    “Well, the animals, for one.” As though suddenly realizing some of this press of humanity might understand English, Holly lowered her voice. “I think the workers are stealing them.”
     
    “So what brought you to this conclusion?”
     
    “I’ve been noticing that just about every time I get back from Guatemala City, there’re animals gone. They’re always the ones with value for the exotic animal trade. And when I ask, either suddenly no one understands my Spanish, or I get some song and dance. The short-term teams don’t know the animals well enough to notice, and Roger and Kathy aren’t out in the cages. But I’m the veterinarian. I’m the one who knows how badly they were hurt or whether they’re ready for release. And there’re too many to explain away.”
     
    “And . . . ?” Vicki prompted. So far she’d heard nothing to keep her from responding to the eager waves of the cabdrivers waiting for fares on the curb.
     
    Holly chewed at the