Pierce
Iturn out of the drive-thru lane and into the parking space of a fast-food restaurant, then turn off the car. Thea hands me a burger and some fries, and I relax for the first time in an hour and a half. No one followed us, but that doesn’t guarantee safety.
I take a bite of the burger while Thea digs into her tote bag. She grabs the antibiotic ointment they gave her on the ship and rubs it on her stitches. She puts it back, then frowns.
“Um, I did something else on the docks.”
I take a long drink of my ice-cold beverage and look at her. She’s got a hand in her bag, looking guilty as sin. “What?”
“When you guys were fighting, I hid behind the cleaning cart and I found this.” She digs in her bag again. “I forgot to tell you.” She places something on the center console.
A black phone.
“Good work. We might make a spy out of you yet.” I take the phone with a grin. My grin slips when I see it’s still on. “Next time you take a phone, turn it off so it can’t be tracked.”
“I didn’t even think of that.” Her head whips around, looking for threats, but I haven’t stopped watching. We’re safe. For now. We’ll need to leave the phone here. “Am I going to be in trouble? The police will want it, right? And they will arrest me for obstructing justice or whatever?”
“If anyone is going to jail, it will be me.”
Her jaw goes slack. “You’re not a fugitive, are you? Is that why your friend told you to leave the crime scene?”
It’s humorous where her mind goes. The reality is far less dramatic. “I thought you trusted me.” I lean back casually, picking up the phone. It’s locked, of course.
“I do!” she says hurriedly.
I school my features. “So what if I told you I am wanted by the CIA for treason?”
She chews on her bottom lip before answering. “I would assume you had a good reason for it.”
My heart halts for a moment, then speeds up. That blind trust means more than she knows. And for some odd reason, I push it one step further.
“Would you still want me to protect you?” My tone is more serious than I intended and I find I’m desperate to know the answer.
She stares at me, unmoved. “Was everyone so quick to leave you?”
I blink and look away, but her hand on my arm calls me back. “I know who you are. I’m not going anywhere unless you make me. You’re my Shrek.”
My breath stutters at her smile.
“You got too sappy.” I toss a fry at her, and she laughs, lifting her burger to her lips.
“Sorry, I forgot emotions are prohibited.”
They should be, but mine can’t seem to make up their mind. I wish they’d shut up while they’re at it.
I put my burger down and dig in my bag until I find the device I’m looking for and plug it into the phone, then go back to eating while it works on unscrambling the password.
“That’s nifty,” Thea says.
“Comes in handy more than you’d think,” I say, taking some fries.
“Exactly how many people’s privacy have you invaded with that device?”
“No comment.”
“If I looked through your phone, what would I find?” she asks, then takes a bite of her burger. Mustard sticks to the corner of her mouth, and she flicks her tongue over it. I tear my gaze from her lips, considering her words.
There’s nothing incriminating on my phone. Nothing she could find, anyway.
I unlock my phone and hand it to her.
“Really?” She takes it hesitantly. “Careful, my dear ogre, you’re becoming a bit of an open book.”
That’s scaring me, too.
She eagerly swipes to the photos. “You have a picture of… a shoe?”
I take a sip of my drink. “My favorite pair. I was trying to find new ones.”
“And a pillow?”
“Same thing.”
“Some mild OCD,” she says in a professional tone, and I glare at her. “Do you ever just take pictures for fun?”
“Why would I do that?” I finish the rest of my burger and crumple the paper while she looks at me like I’m an idiot.
“I don’t know… memories?”
“Not anything I care to remember.”
She pinches her eyes closed, pressing a finger to the center of her forehead. “I’m trying so hard not to diagnose you right now.”
“And you’re mostly succeeding.”
She exits the camera app and swipes through the phone. “No social media? No games or video apps? What do you even do with this thing?”
“I call people.”
“The original use of the phone. Who would have thought?” She purses her lips, flipping to the camera app and holding the phone at an angle away from her. I see myself on the screen as she snaps three pictures.
“There, now you actually have something interesting to look at,” she says, putting the phone down on the center console.
Too bad I’m going to have to delete it. If my phone is ever stolen, someone will surely find this picture and come after her. But I may have to keep a version of it… somewhere safe.
The phone rings. Not mine. The stranger’s.
I freeze.
“Do we answer it?” Thea asks.
I look at the phone. It’s not a name, just a number, and I quickly type it into my phone. It’s most likely a burner. If I don’t answer, I may never know who is on the other end of the call. I swipe the phone to answer the call.
“Chris. He tied me up. I need you to catch them when they get off the boat. I’m stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere.”
Thea looks at me, recognition crossing her face. She mouths Cooper?
I nod.
“Chris?”
I drop my voice, mimicking the man I heard from the docks. “On it.”
“I need you to take them to… Chris?”
I swallow. “Yeah?”
“You’re not Chris.” Cooper hangs up.
Dang it, I wanted to hear what he had to say. Clearly, they were working together, but who were they working for? Until I know more about the man from the docks, I’m going to assume Cooper was the ringleader with the way he was ordering “Chris” around. I need to check into his place of employment.
My device is still working to unlock the contents of the phone, but a few things have become available… like the last number in the call log. The texts and emails haven't loaded yet. I click on the picture app.
There is a downloaded picture of me and Thea—the one from the beach Cooper must have sent him.
“Creepy,” Thea says with a shiver.
There is a picture of his meal.
“He’s one of those guys,” she mutters.
A picture of a dog, and then…
“Who is that?” Thea asks with a curious lilt.
It’s a man. His back is to the camera, his head turned slightly, revealing only the side of his face. He’s wearing a hard hat and a construction vest.
I tap on the photo details, but all it gives me is a location in Newport.
“I’m not sure.” I swipe to the next photo. The same man, this time half of his face is in view, but grainy, as if the photographer zoomed in too far. It looks like he’s talking to someone, but that someone is hidden behind a large beam. All that is visible is a gloved hand, holding something.
Thea gasps. “I know him.”
I raise a brow. “You do?”
She bites her lip as she seems to reconsider. “I think so. He looks familiar, but I can’t remember his name.”
I try to go to the next photo, but that’s the last I’m able to see. I look at Thea.
“Did you work with him, a friend, an acquaintance?”
She reaches for her bracelet but comes up empty, pinching her wrist instead. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. But I swear I’ve seen him before.” Her pitch rises with each word.
“Maybe he’s a celebrity.” Someone she only thinks she knows. “Or maybe you saw him on the plane.” That would explain why she thinks she knows him but isn’t sure. Someone from her missing week.
There are too many pieces of the puzzle that aren’t adding up.
I need answers. Noah had some for me.
I open my email and skim through the contents. Noah confirmed Cooper’s place of work in L.A. and sent me the identity of the dead man in the hotel room. Henry Carter. No family. Works construction…
I click on the attached photo, and my jaw clenches.
“Now do you recognize him?” I ask, turning my phone screen toward Thea.
She scrunches up her face. “That’s the same guy in the pictures!”
I exhale, hating myself before the words escape. “Thea, that’s the guy who was dead in your hotel room.”
She gasps, dropping her burger to her lap. Lettuce tumbles out onto her thighs, and I instinctively pick up the shredded pieces.
I reach for the last piece, but my hands go rogue, finding her shaking fingers instead.
“Talk to me,” I gently encourage, while outwardly I want to yell. Why was this man dead in her room? Was this Mr. Smith? Did they meet on the plane, and he drugged her? What made him choose Thea?
She was an easy target.
The reality is a slap in the face. She’s a beautiful woman, recently broken up with, and lost. If someone, Cooper, had been following him, he could have pretended to be with Thea, giving himself a cover story.
“Pierce…” Her terrified whisper stops the runaway train of thoughts. “What happened? Why was that guy”—she gestures wildly at the phone—“in my room? And on that phone? I don’t like this.”
I don’t either. I hate even considering what might have happened had I not returned with her.
“I-I just remember him from finding his body there, right?” Her blue eyes are so hopeful it hurts.
“I’m sure.” I squeeze her hand—the only true reassurance I can give her at this moment. I hope that’s the only reason.
How did she know him? Her memories may be coming back if she recognizes him this time. But I’m impatient. I need to know now. What’s going on? Why did someone choose her to drug?
Another photo becomes available, and I click on it, just as the phone beeps and a timer starts, counting down from ten. It’s got a fail-safe. The photo shows Henry slipping a small object into his pocket. The drive? What? I need more. Five…four… I don’t have time.
“We need to go.” I hop outside, taking the phone with me and wedging it behind the car tire before the alarm starts. Then I get back in and put the car in reverse.
I speed onto the main road, wanting to put as much distance as I can between us and imminent danger.
I click on the address I had loaded into the gps.
Cooper’s “work” is a forty-five minute drive.
Maybe we will get some answers there. Then we need to find a place to lie low while I dig into this mess.
I also need to find out if this Henry Carter was my informant.
I’m itching to stop and take out my computer to find something, anything, to keep Thea safe.
But I can’t stop yet. Only think. And drive.