Chapter 12
"Do you have to wear a tux?" Knox asked.
"No." Nash swallowed his groan. "I'm glad you're so entertained by this plan."
"Parties can be fun," Knox said. "Parties on a superyacht can be very fun."
"Did you call to ask about the party, or do you actually have information?" Nash asked.
A few feet away, Lena tossed Nutmeg's ball, over and over, keeping the pooch sufficiently occupied.
Nash decided not to put the call on speaker. If Knox relayed any disturbing updates, Nash could sugarcoat it for Lena later.
"Yeah, I have news," Knox said. "The pictures you sent over. Rowan ID'd your Jane Doe. Didn't take too long because she'd been arrested a couple of times. She was in the system."
"Who is she?" Nash asked.
"Her name was Kara French," Knox said. He could hear Knox tapping on a keyboard. "Or maybe that was one of her aliases. Anyway, what's important is that her occupation was safecracker."
"Safecracker?"
"Yep. She was arrested three times. In the US, the prosecutors couldn't make the charges stick.
But in France, she did six months for aiding in a home invasion, as the team's safecracker.
And Allie's friend at the FBI said your victim is the suspected safecracker in two other ongoing investigations.
" A squeaky desk chair screeched through the connection. "You mentioned it was a shallow grave."
"Yes," Nash said, not wanting to rehash the details in front of Lena. "Whatever happened wasn't planned."
"I hear you," Knox said. "Is there a safe in Emil's house?"
"Yes. In the study. And she was found just outside the window of the study."
Knox made a sound of acknowledgement. "Well, that doesn't take much imagination."
"No. But it doesn't explain who killed her."
Lena flinched in his peripheral vision at his last words, and he wished he hadn't said them out loud. Maybe he should take the phone in the bedroom to talk.
He walked into the bedroom and shut the door.
"Sorry," he said. "I don't want to hash out all of this in front of Lena. She's been through a lot."
"That's okay. I understand. So, what are you thinking?"
"First of all, Emil didn't hire someone to crack his own safe. So, as slimy as he is, I don't think he killed her."
"Unless he walked in and caught her red-handed."
"He wouldn't have to bury her like that, trying to cover it up.
He's not going to face any charges for killing a thief in his own home on Isadora Island.
" He rubbed his temples, cycling through the possibilities.
"It's possible the safecracker opened the safe, retrieved the jewels for whoever hired her, and then her boss killed her to tie up loose ends.
But that doesn't track with the desperate body dump. "
"Agreed. The murder wasn't planned."
Nash worked a kink in his shoulder. "They must have argued. About her cut. Or maybe the safe was empty, and she wanted to be paid, regardless."
He heard a muffled noise on the other end. The next voice he heard was Jason's. "I like your thinking. But it's obvious we don't have all the pieces yet. Stay sharp and see what you can learn at that fancy party."
"That's the plan."
"How's Lena holding up?"
Nash lowered his voice. "She's okay, I guess. She was really freaked out last night. But I can't blame her. It's obviously not safe here. I don't want to let her out of my sight."
"She really should have left the island. She shouldn't even be there," Jason said.
Nash picked up on his irritation.
"I agree with you one hundred percent. But short of carrying her onto the plane and strapping her in against her will, I'm not going to be able to get her out of here until she sees Cassidy.
And to be honest, she's the only reason we've been invited to this party.
So I guess I should be grateful for that. "
"I still don't like it," Jason said.
"And you think I do? I don't want her getting hurt." Emotions he'd kept corralled for years threatened to bolt loose. "And that's not going to happen. I guarantee it."
Throbbing memories pulsed in rhythm with his surging adrenaline.
He tried to mitigate the effect on his tone, but he was failing.
Miserably. "If I have to carry her off the boat, I will.
She'll leave after the party. She'll talk to Cassidy.
After that, whether she likes it or not, she's going to get out of here. I won't let her put herself in danger."
Deafening silence on the other end confirmed he'd failed at feigning his normal cool-as-a-cucumber professionalism.
"Hey, man," Jason said after the silence got awkward. "I didn't mean to hit a nerve."
"Yeah. Sorry. I'm just saying I'm not going to let her get hurt."
"I know you won't." Jason cleared his throat. "What about Delphine or the guards, Frank and Manny? Are they suspicious of you being so protective of Lena?"
"Actually, we were handed a pass on that one. Delphine's decided Lena and I are having a summer fling, so she expects us to spend time together."
A chuckle crackled through the phone. "I see. Well, I guess that's convenient. Does it bother Lena?"
"It didn't seem to. She understands the assumption will help keep our cover."
"Okay, good luck with that." Another chuckle.
"I'm glad you find this so amusing."
"Oh, I do, my friend, I do." A muffled voice in the background said something to Jason. Probably Allie. "Okay, Nash, I gotta go. Keep us posted."
"Will do."
He ended the call and checked his watch, wondering if—
Lena's scream made him bolt through the door and into the living room.
By instinct, he drew his weapon. But when he rushed into the living room, he realized the emergency was a spilled glass of water on the coffee table.
Nutmeg was helping himself to a cool drink from the puddle while Lena frantically removed objects from the table before they got wet.
She locked eyes with him and froze, noting his gun.
"I'm so sorry," she said.
He lowered his weapon. "It's fine." He holstered his gun on the small of his back, helped her clear the table, then went to the kitchen for a dish towel.
"I shouldn't have screamed. Sorry. I was afraid your books would get wet."
She held his Bible in her hands, inspecting the front, the back, the edges. She stared at it longer than he thought necessary.
"Did it get wet?" he asked.
"Oh no, no. I was just double-checking. It's all dry. It's a nice Bible." She smoothed her hand over the cover. "You've had it a long time? Looks well-used."
"Yeah, that's the Bible I've used for about ten years. As you can see." He lifted his chin toward the worn leather. "It's had a few rough days. I do try to take care of it, though. My grandfather gave it to me before he passed away."
"Oh." She handed him the Bible. "My grandmother loved the saying that a Bible that's falling apart usually belongs to someone who isn't."
"Wise woman."
She used the dish towel to dab the last few drops from the coffee table. "It says a lot about you that you read the Bible often enough for it to look that worn."
It was a statement. But he felt like she was asking him something.
"I see a lot of darkness in my line of work.
" He placed his Bible on the desk—safely out of any Nutmeg impact areas.
"When you have to stare down that much evil, it helps to know God is bigger than all of it.
I would've lost my sanity years ago if I hadn't surrendered to him. "
Her heart nearly burst at his words. He shared her faith. But not exactly. His faith was stronger than hers. He'd faced true evil in dark places she'd never see and clung to God's Word—literally, by the looks of that battered Bible.
She hadn't trusted God to help her face her family's secrets. Hadn't trusted him to stand by her. She'd felt alone. But why?
She watched Nutmeg lick his paw—then clamped a hand on her head and shut her eyes with a moan.
"What is it?" Nash asked.
"I completely forgot." She looked at Nutmeg and back at him. "With everything going on . . ."
"What's wrong?"
"Nutmeg has an appointment today. I'm supposed to take him to a dog spa at the Mandeville."
"What?" he asked.
She sighed. "I know it sounds silly with everything going on, but if I'm going to keep up this cover as a dog-sitter, I should probably take him. Victoria made this appointment weeks ago."
"When is it?"
She checked the time on her phone. "In an hour."
He worked his jaw with a slow nod. "That should be safe. I'll come with you."
"Oh, I don't want to take up your afternoon."
"It's not all afternoon. The Mandeville is less than fifteen minutes from here. How long could it possibly take to give a dog a bath?"
"Well . . ." She bit her lower lip. This is going to sound ridiculous. She looked at Nutmeg again, and back to Nash. "It's not just a bath. It's a full grooming appointment. They'll do his nails. Victoria also scheduled a massage for him and a lavender aromatherapy session with a steam wrap."
The question stamped on his face read, "Are you kidding me?"
"I'm serious. I know, it's . . .a lot. But Victoria made the appointment. And technically, this is my job while I'm here. I guess I could make an excuse not to go. But I don't know what I'd say to Victoria when she asks about the appointment. And she will ask."
"No, there's no reason not to go. I can jump on WhiteRock's secure Wi-Fi at The Mandeville and monitor my cameras from my phone.
The Mandeville is the safest place on the island.
My team is there if we need them." He walked over to Nutmeg and stroked his fur.
"We wouldn't want the poor guy to go without his aromatherapy whatever. "
"It's a lavender-infused aromatherapy steam wrap," she said.
"Of course it is."
An hour later they were sitting at a restaurant at The Mandeville.
Nash took a sip of his water. "Knox says this place is amazing."
Lena looked at the menu. "Everything looks delicious."