Chapter 19 Harper
Chapter nineteen
Harper
Elijah’s and Jessie’s eyes both alight with excitement at the prospect of using the speedboat docked behind our cabana.
I, on the other hand, would prefer to stay on dry land.
Roger also appears less than thrilled and taps a few buttons on the laptop.
I lean away from him to give him the space he needs to work.
“I thought you would be happy to take the boat for a spin,” I say.
Roger rewinds the footage and begins to play the conversation between Jordan and Thomas again. “It’s not that. Thomas said that he was informed that the theft was planned because there were FBI agents on their way. The only people who we are aware of watching them are us and Zurkowski’s team.”
I don’t particularly like where Roger’s train of thought is going. “What are you trying to say?”
Roger shrugs. “I’m not entirely sure. I’m just thinking out loud. We are operating under the assumption that Zurkowski, Henrickson, Walsh, and Ackerman are here under your father’s orders, right?”
I nod once. “Zurkowski chased after the shooter, which means there has to be another player.”
Elijah purses his lips. “Does it? What if that was staged to throw us off their trail, Harper? What if the shooter was Walsh, Ackerman, or Henrickson?”
I glare at Elijah. “I refuse to believe my parents are anything other than honorable.”
“Harper, no one is accusing your parents of anything,” Roger says calmly.
“Um, Roger. We kind of are,” Jessie interjects.
“We can’t rule out the possibility that Finnegan is dirty, no matter how much we want to believe otherwise.
” I open my mouth to argue with her, and Jessie holds up her hand to stop me.
“Hear us out, Harper. Let’s presume that your parents, along with the four agents, are do-gooders trying to stop a terrorist plot from coming to fruition. ”
I lean back as far as the couch cushion will allow and motion for her to continue. Jessie smiles wanly. “Then who would tell Thomas that the theft was planned, and why would they do so?”
I begin fidgeting with the bottom of my shirt and contemplate the question. After a lengthy pause, I reply, “Maybe Thomas was lying to convince Jordan to do one last pickup.”
Roger leans forward, interlacing his fingers and resting his elbows on his knees.
He peers at me from over his shoulder. “Then why would Thomas send Jordan and his crew to pick up a package and ten people fully aware that another theft could occur? That doesn’t make any sense, Harper.
I hate to say it, but we can’t rule out the very real possibility your parents are ‘on the take.’”
Tears well in my eyes, and my heart shatters into a thousand pieces because I can’t deny the truth of his words. Roger shifts to embrace me, but I shake my head and put my hand on his chest to stop him. I need time to process.
No one says a word for several minutes as I let the tears flow and get it all out of my system. “I’ll take that hug now,” I say, and Roger doesn’t hesitate to pull me into an embrace.
I sniffle a few times and then collect myself, ready to get back to business. “I want to go on record and say that Zurkowski, Ackerman, Walsh, and Hendrickson could be operating of their own accord.”
“True,” Roger says. “Go on.”
“We were the ones who contacted the FBI and informed them of the cargo on board. How did Zurkowski and the rest of his team know that Whitman had sent men to confiscate the cargo and make an arrest? They have to be monitoring our communications.”
“This place is clean, Harper,” Roger says. “You saw me check the place for bugs.”
“Did your luggage arrive before or after you checked the place, Roger?” Jessie asks.
Roger heaves out a long sigh. “During. I was done with scanning the main area when the valet arrived, but I had yet to do the bedroom and bathroom. I’ll go and check the luggage right now.
There was plenty of time for someone to plant a listening device between the time we arrived and the delivery of our bags. How could I be so stupid?”
“You’re far from stupid, Roger,” I tell him. “It didn’t cross my mind either. Therefore, I’m equally to blame.”
Roger grabs the scanner and storms out of the room, mumbling incoherently the entire way. Once he’s out of earshot, Jessie whispers, “Roger rarely makes a mistake, and he’s going to beat himself up over this.”
“It’s a simple error,” I reply. “There wasn’t any reason to suspect that our luggage could have been tampered with.
No one was supposed to know we were here.
The only reason why Roger scanned the cabana in the first place was because my parents had stayed here and had been taken.
It was logical for us to conclude that they were being watched.
I thought he was going overboard since the FBI had already cleared the place. ”
Elijah shakes his head vehemently. “While all that is true, that ‘simple’ mistake could have disastrous consequences. Maybe the charter would have docked, and we could have followed the cargo to its final destination. Now we’re spinning our wheels, and they know we’re on to them.”
“If there is a listening device,” I argue.
“There is,” Roger says from behind me, holding up a small disk.
He holds the device up to his mouth and says to whoever happens to be listening on the other end, “I’m going to find you, even if it’s the last thing I do.
” He sets it on the floor and then steps on it with the heel of his shoe.
He grinds it into the floor for added effect just as his phone pings with an incoming text.
Roger reads the message aloud, “We’re not hiding. Meet at the following coordinates tomorrow at noon. Come alone.” Another text pings with the coordinates. Roger’s shoulders tense, and his mouth forms a straight line before he stares at me intently. “Harper, where’s your phone?”
“It’s in my purse with the battery removed. Why?”
He hands me his phone, and Jessie scoots closer to me so she can peek over my shoulder. “Who has a 703-area code?” at the same time, I say, “This is a text from my phone. That’s not possible.”
Roger takes his phone back and puts it in his back pocket. “It is if it has been cloned.”
Once the sun sets, Jessie and Elijah leave to go and get some sleep while Roger and I watch It’s a Wonderful Life on the Hallmark Channel.
Somewhere along the way, we both fall asleep on the couch.
Again, I wake up to arms circling my waist and a soft snore in my ear.
It’s a feeling that a girl could get used to, but my bladder is screaming at me to empty it.
As gently as I can, I move Roger’s hand so that it rests at his side, and I slip from his grasp. He shifts and rolls to his side. I can’t help but touch him, running a finger down the side of his cheek and admiring his sleeping form. I smile when he hums softly in contentment.
Letting him get a few more winks in, I head to the bathroom and freshen up. I must have been in there longer than I thought because when I return to the living room, Roger is in the small kitchen brewing a pot of coffee.
“Do you want to go to breakfast or order room service,” he asks, leaning casually against the counter with his ankles crossed.
“I’d love to go out for breakfast and get some fresh air, but do you think it’s safe enough to do so?”
“No, but I also can’t keep you cooped up inside just to appease my need to keep you from harm.
Part of working for Shining Knight is protection, which means we often have to go out in public with our clients regardless of the threats against them.
The same could apply here, but unlike most of our clients, you’re perfectly capable of handling yourself.
Despite knowing that, it doesn’t stop me from wanting to cover you up in bubble wrap and hide you from the rest of the world,” he tells me.
I wrap my arms around his middle and rest my cheek on his chest. “You’re right. I am capable of handling myself, but it’s a nice feeling to know you have my back. I have yours, too. Why don’t we stay in all day and snuggle up on the sofa, and tomorrow we’ll venture outside.”
Roger kisses the top of my head and hugs me a bit tighter.
“I want nothing more than to binge-watch movies with you and cozy up together, but I have to go to the coordinates that were sent to me, which happen to be two miles from shore.” He glances at his watch.
“I have to leave in about two hours if I’m going to make it in time. ”
I take a step back and glare at him. “I’m coming with you.”
“No. You can monitor with an earpiece, but you’ll remain here with Jessie and Elijah.”
“They aren’t going to let you go alone, and neither am I. I’ll rent another boat and follow you if I have to,” I say stubbornly.
Roger cups my cheek and touches his lips to mine with tender affection. “I need you to stay here, Harper. I need you to trust me to know what I’m doing.”
“What if they kill you?” I whisper.
“They won’t. I may have spent two decades with the FBI and have some decent skills, but I wasn’t prior military. I’m not a Navy Seal, Delta Force, Ranger, or any other type of secret squirrel operative like these guys. They could have killed me ten times over if they had wanted to.”
“I don’t like it,” I relent.
“Neither do I, but this might be the only opportunity to get some answers.” Roger kisses the side of my temple and goes over to the landline, effectively ending the conversation. Changing the subject, he asks, “What do you want for breakfast?”
“Surprise me,” I say and walk toward the closet with our equipment.
I want to see what other goodies he has and if anything can be useful for his upcoming outing.
The floorboard audibly squeaks under my foot, and I stare down at my feet in irritation.
I rock back and forth and feel the wood bow slightly under my weight. Squeak. Squeak.
Bending down, I run my fingers over the plank embedded in the floor and notice that it’s loose. Using my fingernail, I wedge it underneath the edges, and it easily comes free. “Roger, this board isn’t tacked in properly. Can you call maint…Oh, wow!”
“Wow, what?” he asks, hanging up the phone and coming to squat down beside me.
“There’s something down there. Can you grab a flashlight?”
Roger removes his phone from the back pocket of his cargo shorts and turns on the flashlight application. Holding it over the hole, he peers inside. “It’s a crawlspace underneath. The base of the cabana breaks away in case of flooding, but there’s something down there.”
He reaches down, and his arm disappears, but when he pulls it back, he’s holding a shipping tube. He sets it down and then does another scan of the area underneath the floor to ensure that nothing else is hidden below.
I replace the panel as Roger pries open the plastic seal of the tube. When he shakes it, a tightly rolled set of papers slides out. “Is it a map to buried treasure?” I ask.
He removes the rubber band and unrolls the documents. “No, it’s a schematic for a nuclear bomb.”