Chapter 15 #3
His fingers tighten on mine. “I’m mitigating my chance at detection. I don’t think he had enough time or access to this place to fully fit it out with surveillance. Like I said, if there are cameras, my gut tells me they would be where you sleep, which is why I wanted to start here.”
“I can do this,” I say to myself, but Boone reassures me, “You can,” before releasing my fingers.
Taking his advice to heart, I head toward the TV mounted on the wall.
The only problem is, I don’t see any cords, let alone a plug.
The little dial on the device jumps up when I get closer and just remains in the green.
I put the side of my head to the wall to look behind the flatscreen, but I still don’t see any cords.
I point the box right at the television, and the dial stays green.
I glance over at Boone, debating on whether or not I should go tell him or move on.
When he gestures for me with his fingers, I take it as a sign to continue.
I make a full lap around the room, waving my arm up and down, and the light remains mostly flat. The heavy feeling of dread abates, and I grow more confident. “It’s still green,” I whisper from across the room.
He shushes me with his finger to his lips but walks in to join me.
When he’s just a few feet away, he points at the bathroom door and adjoining closet.
My nose crinkles, but I push the door the rest of the way open and squint at the light before running my fingers over the switch to plunge the room into darkness.
The moonlight streaming in from the wall of windows doesn’t quite reach this space, and my eyes have to readjust to the darkness. The sound of my breathing seems to echo in the smaller area, and I find myself holding my breath while I direct the box around the room.
I gasp when the light jumps to yellow when I pass the sink.
I jerk my hand back over the same path, and it blinks yellow again when I get close to my toothbrush.
“Oh hell.” I relax, realizing the damn thing is Bluetooth enabled.
To be sure it isn’t something else triggering it, I move the toothbrush and the stand while keeping the box trained in the same spot, and the light returns to green.
“Remind me to get a new toothbrush,” I whisper harshly, wishing I could throw the damn thing in the garbage right now for the hassle.
The line stays in the low green field while I explore the rest of the bathroom, but the moment I cross the threshold into the closet, it jumps to yellow.
“Uh-oh,” I mutter, looking around for any obvious tells, like a blinking red light in the ceiling vent, and find nothing.
There isn’t a mirror that could hide a camera or strange hole in the wall, so what could it be?
I sense more than hear Boone’s presence near the door. I lift the box to show him the indicator light glowing a steady yellow. He mouths a word, but I can’t make it out. He must read the confusion on my face, because he leans in close and whispers, “Tracker,” near my ear.
That should be the least of my worries, because a camera would be so much worse, but it still feels like a huge violation. An edge of anger nips at the fear, giving me something to cling to besides the terror.
The yellow field grows when I move to the left, then it drops again, only to go into red for the first time when I move it to the right.
Boone steps up behind me, taking the device from my hand and moving it around.
He motions for me to stay quiet with his finger to his lips and begins passing it over my clothes, shoes, and a few of the bags I brought with me.
In only a few moments, it becomes clear that the highest indicator is likely coming from my bags.
Boone picks them up one by one, separating each item until he has a small pile of things that are making the light glow red.
While crouched, he carefully runs his hands over each item before moving on to the next.
I’m not sure if he found what he was looking for, but eventually, he stands and makes one final pass around the closet before motioning for me to step out.
I keep looking over my shoulder until I make it back into my room with him behind me. “I’m going to need to open those things up to confirm my suspicions.” His voice is still low, but he’s not whispering.
I shrug. “Rip them to shreds if you need to.”
“I don’t know a lot about designer bags, but I know some of those are pretty expensive,” he cautions.
“I honestly could not care less what any of it costs. I will pay you to destroy them if I need to.”
He puts his hands up in surrender. “I just want to make sure they are only trackers, but I’m fairly certain that’s what is hitting.”
I don’t fight the shiver of revulsion. “Those bags and that jacket are my favorites. I use them almost all the time, and the duffle. That’s what I brought here with me on the flight.”
Boone nods. “I think it’s safe to assume he’s been watching you for a while, and he knows you pretty well.”
“He doesn’t know me,” I protest vehemently.
Boone takes hold of my upper arm. “Not like that. I just mean he knows your habits,” he explains, but I still don’t like the notion that this guy knows me.
“What are we going to do with them after you confirm they are trackers?” I take a step back, forcing him to release his light hold on my arm.
“Nothing for now. I’d like a little more time to see what I can find out about him, see if he made any mistakes that can lead us to him.”
“Before he comes back for me,” I add.
“Before he tries to come for you. Don’t go downstairs. I still want to do a full sweep.” He turns back toward the closet, but I’m on his heels. Given the choice to be with him or alone, I’m always going to choose being with him, unhealthy or not.
Undeterred by my presence, Boone flips open a knife with a click.
The movement is so smooth, I would have missed him pulling it out of his front pocket if I wasn’t watching him so closely.
He kneels on the floor and pulls my overnight bag close.
A few seconds later, he has a small black disc pinched between his fingers.
It’s smaller than an AirTag, but not by much.
Clearly, these don’t come with an alert that one is nearby like the big company’s trackers do.
After I get a look at it, he places it back in the bag and moves on to the next item.
One by one, he works his way through the pile, showing me similar objects along the way.
I want to protest when he keeps putting them back where he found them, but I don’t.
As much as I would love for him to destroy them, it would only alert this guy that the trackers were found.
Eventually, Boone rises from his kneeling position, but he leaves all the items he searched on the floor.
Looking at it makes me sad. I want to be strong and pretend that the invasion doesn’t bother me, that I will still be able to pick up my favorite fall bag and use it without issue once this is all over, but all I feel when I look at it now is disgust. I hate that I’m letting him steal something else from me.
“You can stay here while I check the other rooms,” he offers when I can’t seem to take my eyes off the spot he just vacated.
“How accurate are those things? If I move them to one of the other rooms, would he know?”
“If they all moved at once more than a few feet, it could register. I wouldn’t risk it.”
“I could kill him.” The confession comes unbidden. Even after recognizing my words as truth and not just a flippant comment, I don’t feel an ounce of shame or remorse even knowing saying it in front of Boone could get me in a lot of trouble, especially if I ever got the opportunity and took it.
“I hope you are never faced with that reality, Harlyn, but if it’s ever you or him, don’t second-guess it, hesitate, or give him a chance.”
I finally manage to look away from the offending pile and move my gaze to Boone.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, “What if it’s not me or him?
What if I’m the one to instigate?” but I don’t.
I may be desperate, but I’m no fool, and that kind of talk is incriminating, especially in front of a man who took an oath to uphold the law.
“I’ll come with you,” I say.