Inside the bag was a cheap black prepaid flip phone with a yellow tag taped across the screen.

“We got a warrant for Derek’s carrier logs two hours ago,” Rebecca said, taking the seat across from me.

“His second prepaid phone was pinging off a tower near the cruise terminal before the ship left port.”

“He called me three hours ago,” I said, sitting down on the cold metal chair.

“He told me Patricia forced him to go.”

Rebecca didn’t smile or offer sympathy.