Lost In Panama

Trigger warning: references to suspected domestic violence (no specific details)

The wind shifted, carrying punishing sheets of rain that sent the pendant lights crashing into each other. The palm trees swayed in the distance as a dull roar signaled the storm’s arrival. There was a collective gasp, turning to laughter, as we all were instantly drenched by the surprisingly warm rain.

Moments earlier, we had been sitting around the mahogany bar under a thatched roof, sharing shots and conversation. Our group had the shared fortune of discovering this hidden paradise, at this resort bar in Bocas del Toro, Panama.

The bar patrons were a mix of ages and backgrounds: a couple from Georgia, several groups of young women traveling together, and a few men who seemed to be on their own. They were the usual cast of lighthearted characters we often encountered on our trips. Another couple, though, stood out. They were both unfairly beautiful: Jodi with her long blond hair, smooth, tanned skin and yoga-toned body, and Brett, with his chiseled cheekbones, lean muscles, and nearly too-white teeth.

But it wasn’t their looks, it was their ease in the world, an effervescence that drew you in. They appeared untouched by the mundanities of life, seeming to live in the magical. We found ourselves embellishing our own stories, trying to make our lives match the intrigue of theirs. I had nicknamed Brett and Jodi “Couple Goals” and they looked to be far more interesting than any of the paperbacks I had planned to read while on vacation.

The storm ended our festivities for the night, sending us dashing off to our rooms. Around 3 in the morning, I was brought out of my sleep by an insistent, high-pitched voice near our window, followed by pounding on the door directly next to us. The rain and wind made it difficult to understand her words. The pounding grew more insistent, becoming loud enough to wake my deep-sleeping boyfriend, Jeff.

We both sat up in bed, suddenly alert. During a break from the wind, we were able to make out “I didn’t do anything—you can’t keep locking me out!”  

The pounding soon stopped, changing to raised voices we could hear through the shared wall. This was accompanied by the sound of furniture scraping the floor before repeatedly bumping into something solid. We wondered if we should intervene; unsure, though, of what we were hearing. We waited in silence until the voices changed to a soft murmur. We decided it was just a spat, likely brought about by too much alcohol.

As we headed for breakfast the next morning, we saw Brett and Jodi emerge from the room next door, all smiles. They were their usual shiny selves, nothing amiss. The hotel guests ate breakfast together under the shelter of the covered patio. The rain continued, we lingered over coffee and stories.

***

The rain stopped after two long days, finally allowing us to take our twice-postponed snorkel tour. We were thrilled when we received word from the tour operator that he was sending us a taxi to bring us to our boat.

We were getting into the taxi when Brett and Jodi ran up, “Can we share a cab? We’re going on the same snorkel trip as you guys!”

We were happy to spend the day with the golden couple, hoping they had an entertaining story with a benign explanation for the noises we heard the night before.

The water was tones of radiant turquoise, the sky above brilliant and cloudless. The light breeze was just enough to cool us from the already blazing sun. Our guide brought our party of eight through mangroves before we reached our snorkel destination just off Bocas Town. After the brief safety talk, we were sent off to explore on our own.

Jeff and I eagerly began our search for brightly colored fish, easing our way over the coral reef. He frequently looked back at me, making sure I was close behind. We lost track of time, eventually noticing our guide waving his arms to signal it was time to return to the boat. Not wanting our adventure to end, we reluctantly swam back.

We were back on the boat, toweling off, when we noticed there were only seven of us. Brett was leaning back in his seat, eyes closed as he soaked up the sun. The seat next to him was empty.

Our guide looked around nervously, scanning the water. He turned to Brett and asked, “Where is your friend?”

Brett paused before answering, “Oh, she’ll be here soon. She likes to go off on her own adventures. Don’t worry, though, she’s a good swimmer.”

The guide threw up his hands and countered, “I don’t see anyone out there. Where did you last see her?”

“Hmm. Maybe…somewhere over that way,” Brett offered, gesturing vaguely toward the horizon.

“Where exactly? I don’t see her anywhere!”

The guide turned to his partner, speaking in rapid-fire Spanish. They pointed and gestured, a look of panic crossing their faces. The rest of us were getting concerned as well. That is, everyone except Brett.

“Seriously, she does this all the time. It’s like she’s in her own world, especially when she’s on the water.”

I was surprised by Brett’s cavalier attitude. I couldn’t imagine Jeff coming back to the boat without me. I noticed the other couples looking at each other, and then back at Brett.

Just as he said this, we heard splashing, and then Jodi appeared, struggling to swim toward the boat. Her panicked motions defied Brett’s description that she was a strong swimmer. Our guide dove in the water after her, swimming for several meters before reaching her. He handed her the rescue buoy and she grabbed on, still kicking frantically and coughing up water.

He pulled her up from the ladder and she was greeted by a stunned silence. She flopped onto the bench seat, shivering despite the warm afternoon. One of the guides handed her a towel as Brett watched her with an unreadable expression.

Brett finally greeted her, “Hey Babe! Nice of you to join us.”

I almost missed the look of abject fear that crossed her face, for barely a millisecond. When I looked back at her, she had replaced it with a shaky smile, followed by another coughing jag.

I knew that something had happened on the water. Why were they both acting like nothing was wrong? I was getting an uneasy feeling, the same feeling I had that first night when we heard them fighting.

Jodi cleared her throat. “Sorry, you guys! I got so caught up in looking at a school of parrotfish that I lost track of time. I didn’t realize how far away I had drifted.”

Brett answered, “It’s okay, we’re only a little late for lunch because of your detour.”

Jodi looked as if she was going to say something but seemed to change her mind. She looked at Brett, her eyes pleading.

None of us knew what to say. The guide jumped in, “Are you okay? You look a little sick.” She did in fact look pale under her usually tanned face.

“I’m fine, really! You didn’t have to jump in to rescue me. It’s not like I don’t know how to swim,” her tone growing defensive. She continued, “I thought we were free to explore on this trip. I mean, isn’t that what the waiver is for?”

The guide didn’t know how to respond to her sudden rudeness. Why wasn’t she thanking him? The other passengers looked as uncomfortable as I felt, but what could we do? Brett and Jodi were acting like everything was normal, and we hadn’t witnessed anything that proved otherwise.

The guide started the boat, taking us to the island for lunch. The rest of the afternoon was uneventful, if you consider that Couple Goals had returned to being the perfect couple, once again disarming everyone with their charm.

It was only after the taxi dropped us off that I realized neither Jodi nor Brett had mentioned anything about their loud fight from that first night.

Jeff and I tried to shake off the bizarre events of the day, despite our growing alarm. Once again, there wasn’t a specific moment or action that indicated any real danger to Jodi. But the fact that they both acted like nothing had happened raised giant red flags for me.

***

Jeff and I avoided Couple Goals for the next few days, not wanting to cause Jodi additional embarrassment. We had almost convinced ourselves that we imagined the whole thing--almost.

Needing distraction from the weirdness, Jeff and I adventured into town. We were curious to see how much it had changed since we had been here five years ago, back when there was only a pothole-riddled dirt road between our resort and town. We were relieved when we saw our favorite restaurant in Bocas Town come into view. It was situated directly on the water, with an unobstructed view of the skiffs coming to shore. We placed ourselves at the edge of the dock and spent the afternoon watching the sea, ordering tacos and cheap drinks. It was one of those perfect afternoons that you can tell, even in the moment, will stay with you for a long time.

Jeff and I were daydreaming about where to go on our next trip when we caught sight of Brett, coming off one of the boats with a guy we had never seen before. They appeared to be speaking in hushed tones, leaning toward each other with their caps pulled low. Brett made brief eye contact with us before he continued past us, quickening his pace. I knew for certain it was Brett because he was wearing the same bright Hawaiian shirt that he hadn’t taken off the entire trip. But this Brett was not the friendly, affable guy we knew from the resort.

The feeling in the pit of my stomach came back. I don’t like to judge people by their looks, but the guy with Brett looked like bad news to me.

We left the restaurant and headed back to the resort. We napped in our room before joining the rest of the guests at the hotel bar for happy hour. The blender was in full force, the music matching the laid-back vibe. One voice soon rose above the noise, and we saw that it belonged to Brett. His tone was jovial as Jodi stood grinning beside him. He was still wearing the Hawaiian shirt; his friend from earlier was nowhere in sight.

The Couple Goals version of Brett was demonstrating a magic trick that somehow didn’t make him seem like someone’s embarrassing dad at a party. His audience was mesmerized; he was rewarded with a free shot from our bartender. I couldn’t reconcile this easygoing Brett with the other personas we had seen over the past week.

***

My watch showed 1:22 am, and once again, I was awakened by a strange sound coming from next door. This time, there were urgent male voices, speaking just quietly enough that I couldn’t discern their words. I recognized one of the voices as Brett’s, but I couldn’t hear Jodi’s. The stranger’s voice was deep and guttural, not friendly. I crept over to our window and looked through the small gap in the plantation shutters. The two men were away from the light, but I could just make out that it was the guy we saw earlier in town with Brett. Why the hell would this guy be here now, in the middle of the night? Especially when he hadn’t been with Brett or Jodi earlier at the bar.

Brett didn’t look scared or surprised that the guy was here. Instead, he looked pissed, like the guy had screwed something up, or was late.

I could tell that Jeff was worried, but there wasn’t any specific danger. The guy didn’t have a visible weapon, and they weren’t exactly fighting. Jeff asked me if he should poke his head out to see if everything was okay, but I was frozen, unable to answer.

Eventually we heard Brett’s door open and close, followed by what sounded like muffled responses from Jodi. Their door opened again, and everything turned silent. I waited a few minutes and cautiously peeked out—the walkway was empty.

***

It was our last full day before our vacation was over, and our plan was to lounge at the resort, maybe take a walk around the property to visit the monkey sanctuary. We were finishing breakfast when Brett ambled past us, offering a quick hello. He looked disheveled, which wasn’t like him. He sat a few tables away from us, alone. My eyes followed him, looking for Jodi.

As if reading my mind, he offered an oddly cheerful, “Jodi’s not feeling well, so looks like I’m on my own for the day.”  He didn’t seem at all bothered by her troubles and he soon became absorbed in the menu. We left him to it.

***

Our luggage next to us, we sat enjoying our final morning at the resort before we had to leave for the airport. I wanted to absorb every drop of this serene Caribbean hideaway. I thought back on the places we had explored, the people we met. I remembered the first night we met Couple Goals, and how flawless their lives had seemed. Now, I wondered about their actual lives away from Panama, what they were like in the real world. We would likely never know, just as we couldn’t be sure of the circumstances surrounding Jodi’s leaving. It probably was none of our business.

Jeff and I made our way into the office to settle our bill just as Brett walked in, holding a laundry bag.

He noticed the two of us standing there and said, “Looks like you guys are headed out. I’m sorry we didn’t all get to hang out again,” He looked genuinely disappointed.

“Yup, back to reality. Hey—how’s Jodi feeling?” Jeff asked.

“She’s fine,” Brett answered quickly. “I’m actually leaving here tonight.”

“Oh, that’s sooner than you planned. Is Jodi staying longer?” I asked, ignoring the weird feeling that was returning.

“No, she’s not. She um, well, Jodi left last night,” he admitted.

Who leaves a remote resort in Panama in the middle of the night?

I knew Jeff’s protective instincts were kicking in when he probed, “Weren’t you worried about her on that dark road, late at night? I heard about some tourists that got robbed the other day.”

“She’s a big girl. She didn’t need me to go with her, trust me.” He attempted to placate us with his easy smile.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. It dawned on me that we hadn’t seen Jodi in two days, not since that day we saw Brett in town.

But there was no proof of anything.

I dared myself to ask, “Did she have an emergency or something?”

Brett paused before answering, “Yeah, something like that.”

Before I could ask anything else, he gave Jeff a fist bump and walked off. “Adios, amigos. Safe travels!”

My heart was pounding, my mind running through all sorts of scenarios that didn’t end well.How do you help someone if you don’t know if they need your help?

As soon as Brett left, Jeff blurted, “Do you think he did something to her?” He gave voice to what I had been afraid to say out loud. I did, with growing certainty.

I wondered if the desk clerk had heard any of our conversation. I looked over, and he must have, judging by the haunted look on his face. I asked him, “Is that normal for a person to leave here in the middle of the night?"

“Me, I mind my own business. They seemed nice enough; they didn’t complain, and no one complained about them.”

I should have complained.

***

We returned to our regular lives, and the years passed. Over time, the details of our extraordinary yet eerie time in Panama began to slip away.

I never completely let go of the unsettling feeling about Jodi’s unexplained departure. There was guilt: we had planned to go to the police on our way to the airport, but our taxi arrived late, barely getting us to the airport on time. Once we arrived home, Jodi’s disappearance felt less urgent, and we allowed ourselves to believe that she had left on her own. I imagined Couple Goals back home together, laughing about the crazy fight they had in Panama.

But that fantasy always gave way to a dark knowing, the feeling that Jodi was not safely home with Brett. Or with anyone else.

Then, one Friday night, I was eating ice cream and watching a true crime show marathon, too tired to do anything else after a long week. I had fallen asleep on the couch when the haunting theme music woke me up, a new episode about to start.

I looked at the television, and there, next to the tagline “Gone but Never Forgotten” was Brett’s face on the screen. Though he had aged, there was no mistaking it was the same Brett we met in Panama. He had been arrested in connection with his wife’s disappearance, while they were on their honeymoon. They showed the missing woman’s face, but it wasn’t Jodi's.