3
Stewart
Representative Carter being on board confirmed it. Dale had been using me to gain information on our investigation. Mason had been livid, pacing our cabin while on the phone with Captain Jessup.
Since the SPD and Mason had clashed with the politician more than once, the detective was sidelined. Thankfully, Representative Carter hadn’t recognized me. Which meant I had to take point on this case. Pretending Roscoe and I were together seemed expedient.
The next day, we put our plan into action. I’d stake out the representative and his wife. Watch for Dale—his social media accounts were suspiciously silent—and keep an eye on Roscoe. Was he involved in any of this?
The sundeck was mostly empty. No surprise since the ship was in port at Key West. I ordered a smoothie from the bar and scanned the area again.
Roscoe was bent over, arranging his towel on a lounge chair, and my lungs decided to stop working. Don’t pass out. I took a deep breath and adjusted my swim shorts.
My phone beeped with a much-needed distraction. But it wasn’t Candy’s IG account.
Mason
Update?
Before I could respond, another message appeared.
Mason
I’m adding Captain Jessup.
What?
Captain Jessup has been added to this chat.
Bloody hell. I rang Mason. “What are you doing, mate?”
“Sorry. She didn’t give me a choice.“
And then he hung up.
Capt. Jessup
Status update
Stewart
Just arrived. No one here.
Mason
No one?
Bullocks.
Stewart
Just the yank.
Which was now our codename for Roscoe. That, at least, made me happy.
Capt. Jessup
EliteHire is a legitimate recruiting agency. I suspect there’s more, but finding information is slow going. My tech is on a cruise.
As if this had been my idea.
Stewart
The yank isn’t part of this.
Mason
We can use him to get closer to Carter. And we don’t know if he’s involved.
Capt. Jessup
Do I have to remind you what’s at stake, agent?”
A yearlong investigation. My assignment to SPD.
The safety of our team.
Stewart
No, ma’am.
A couple with school-aged children were swimming in the pool. I stepped closer, needing to do something other than stare at Roscoe’s broad shoulders or pretend I hadn’t seen him.
“Hey, gorgeous.“
Roscoe bumped against me as I was turning, and my legs got twisted. I was falling, and I had no way to stop it.
Drowned rat was not a good look.