Chapter 19
This island was a prison, not a paradise. Under other circumstances Savannah would have loved the chance to sit on the white-sand
beach and let the sea breeze deposit the scent of salt in her hair. She watched Simon throw sticks for the dogs and laugh
at their antics. At least he didn’t realize the gravity of their situation, and she planned to keep it from him if she could.
The guards laughed and played poker on a little bamboo table in the shadow of three palm trees. They mostly ignored her and
Simon, but Savannah left Simon building a sandcastle and approached the men. If she could engage them in conversation, maybe
she’d learn more about the location. Five beautiful golden retrievers left their side and approached Savannah, tails wagging.
She ran her hands over their silky cream-colored coats. “You guys are a whole herd. I’ve never seen such gorgeous dogs,” she
said to the men.
The bearded guy, Anton, whooped and scooped the pot of coins into his hands. “Count yourself lucky the boss is a big dog lover.
It would have been easier to shoot your mutts rather than bring them here.” He grinned, but his dark eyes were cold.
Savannah held back a shudder at his tone.
A black Lab appeared from the side of a gazebo and came over to say hello.
Its tail hung between its legs, and it licked her hand before settling at her feet and staring up at her with sad eyes.
“Is this Lab okay? Maybe it needs a vet.” Please mention the nearest vet.
The other guy shuffled the cards. “Nah, he’s just a little sad. A previous guest, um, left him behind last week, and he hasn’t
quite recovered. He will, though. The boss is giving him special attention, and there isn’t a dog alive who doesn’t love Mr.
Hornbrook.”
Her gaze surveyed the horizon of endless blue water. Did that guest disappear out there? “Where is this island anyway?”
“That’s a need-to-know question, and it’s above your pay grade,” Anton said. “Look around if you like, though.” His tone encouraged
her to wander off and leave them alone.
She backed away, and the Lab watched her go with soulful eyes. Simon jumped to his feet at her approach and brushed sand from
his hands. “Can we take a walk? I want to see the rest of the island.”
“Sure.” Their dogs followed them, and the goldens trailed them too. The guards ambled along about ten yards back, talking
and laughing.
Behind the main house she spotted the dock she’d seen when talking to Hornbrook. A yacht bobbed in the waves. She kept walking.
To the left of the main house, the beach curved around to reveal a perfect little cove. Several small boats were tied to a
small pier. A spit of land curled protectively around the harbor on the other side.
Simon’s gaze darted toward the boats. “Could we take one of those and get out of here?” he whispered.
The boats were small with low-power engines that wouldn’t putt along more than a few miles an hour.
“I don’t think so. For one thing, the engines likely don’t have much gas, and there’s no way to get our bearings on which direction to head.
And even if we tried, that yacht behind the big house would catch up to us in no time. ”
The bright hope on his face ebbed. “So we’re stuck here?”
“I’m sure your uncle Hez will find us.” He had to be frantic after that message from her.
“Pawpaw too. He knows lots of people, and he won’t let anyone get away with this.”
When they got out of this mess, she needed to figure out a gentle way of making sure Simon knew his grandfather was no angel.
If she didn’t do something about her nephew’s misplaced admiration, Michael would lure him into the Willard crime web. She
couldn’t let that happen.
The waves tossed a soggy wrapper of some kind onto the pristine beach, and she stepped over to grab it. She shook the salt
water from it and smoothed it out to examine the writing. It was a food take-out bag for a restaurant in Caracas. Her gaze
traveled down the beach to the dogs frolicking in the turquoise water. This had to be a small island off the coast of Venezuela,
and an idea began to germinate on how to reveal their location to Hez.
Who was blackmailing James Hornbrook?
Hez tugged his lower lip as he stared out the Justice Chamber’s lone window.
Rain pelted the glass and dribbled in through the poorly fitted lead frame, staining the cement sill.
The window wasn’t the only thing that leaked—someone had told a tech-savvy extortionist about the Hornbrook database, but who?
Hez had assumed the answer lay in New York City. That’s where Hornbrook did business and where most of his victims—and probably
his enemies—lived. But why would the hacker who found and downloaded the database be so close to TGU? It made no sense—unless
the leak happened here. Not many people in Southern Alabama knew about the database, but there were a few: Hez, Savannah,
Hope, the TGU trustees.
Of that group, the trustees were the most likely culprits. They were mostly semiretired, prominent businessmen, and none of
them struck Hez as potential hackers, but they were talkers. Could one of them have told about Hez and Bruno’s exploits at
a tailgate party or similar event? Hez had sworn them to secrecy before briefing them, but it was a good story and they might
have “forgotten” their promise. If a greedy computer science professor or student overheard the tale, that could explain both
the blackmail and why Hornbrook immediately tried to force Hez and Bruno to solve his problem.
Could they do it in time? Hez’s gut told him catching the blackmailer was the key to rescuing Savannah and Simon, but they
had less than thirteen hours to do it.
What would happen to Savannah and Simon if they failed?
He closed his eyes and tried to push away the dark images crowding his mind. “Dear God, please keep them safe.”
His phone buzzed with a text from Martine: Meet me at the Campbell Motel. Room 26.
He frowned. The Campbell Motel was a cheap old motel on Highway 98 that catered to truckers and migrant laborers. Why did
Martine want to meet him there? Was she deliberately trying to sabotage his relationship with Savannah? Something had seemed
off in all his meetings with her, but she had provided him with valuable information about Hornbrook. Maybe she would do it
again, but he had to be on his guard around her. He texted: Pick another place.
I’ll wait here for fifteen minutes, then I’m gone and so is my information.
He sighed, grabbed an umbrella from the desk, and headed out to his truck. The rain increased as he drove to the Campbell
Motel, and so did his fear. The tantalizing clues Martine had given him in the past wouldn’t be enough this time. He needed
clear and complete answers to his questions. Where were Simon and Savannah? Who was blackmailing Hornbrook? If they didn’t
get solid information fast, Savannah and Simon would die.
Hez pulled into the Campbell Motel. The weedy, cracked asphalt parking lot was mostly empty. Green-painted doors faced the
lot under an overhanging eave. The lot held a few older pickups, a black Ford Taurus with primer spots and blue doors, and
a little red Jaguar coup outside room 26. He parked next to the Jaguar and got out, not bothering with the umbrella.
He jogged a few steps until he was under the motel’s eaves, then slowed to a walk. He glanced up and down the row of rooms. Was someone hiding in the overgrown hedge at the edge of the lot? Before he could be sure, room 26’s door flew open and Martine took his hand and pulled him inside.
She shut the door and stood with her back to it. She wore spike heels and a black cocktail dress that left little to the imagination.
Her thick blonde hair tumbled down her shoulders onto her chest, and her full lips wore bright red lipstick. Her enticing
perfume wafted to him. She stared at him, panting.
He backed away and glanced around the room. The sheets on the double bed were pulled back and rumpled. An empty wine bottle
and two used glasses stood on the bedside table. An open box of condoms lay beside them.
Hez’s pulse thundered in his ears. This was a setup of some kind, but he couldn’t worry about that now. “What is this?” He
took a step back. “Whatever your game is, forget it. I need answers and fast. Someone has kidnapped Savannah and Simon. Who’s
your client, Martine? I need that name.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry.” She jerked open the door and ran out.
Hez followed, determined to get information that would help him find his family, but she jumped into the Jaguar, started the
engine, and roared out of the parking lot.
Hez scrambled into his truck and gunned the engine to life. He started to back out but then stopped. He could never catch
her Jag, but he would waste precious time trying. Every minute counted, and he needed to get back to the Justice Chamber.
He looked toward the hedge. The shape he had seen there was gone.
He put the truck in Drive and headed back to TGU, his mind whirling.