845 A.M. — Thursday, September 13
PETRA
Petra got to the office fifteen minutes early, which was something she’d never done before.
She was the sort of person to slide in right on time.
Well, usually a couple of minutes late, if she were to be honest about it.
But today she decided to get there early so she wouldn’t miss anything that might help Luka.
The Director, an early riser who she knew showed up around eight in the morning even though their office didn’t open until nine, was already at his desk on a call with his door closed. His eyes narrowed slightly when he saw her and she hoped showing up early wasn’t going to look suspicious.
Her nerves were raw. She’d barely slept last night. It was all too thrilling. Too scary. Too romantic.
She’d found one very important clue shortly after she had gotten home from their date—the yacht was owned by Travis Bishop, an American who owned the Summit Broadcasting Network.
He was married to a famous actress, Mercy Devereaux, and when she Googled them, she found a blog post called The Real-Life Beauty and the Beast by a woman who suggested theirs was a miserable marriage.
This would be perfect for Luka. An unhappy, rich couple.
There would be secrets, scandals, and best of all, it really must be a murder.
If she had to guess, she’d say Mercy was dead, and Travis Bishop had killed her. It was always the husband, after all.
Petra was so excited, she called Luka right away, whispering into the phone because her parents were still awake.
“I found out who owns the yacht.”
“What?”
“I found out who owns the yacht!”
His words came out garbled, but Petra pieced together what he meant. “I can’t hear you. I made the ferry and the reception is shit.”
She tried again, slowly and as loud as she dared to speak. “I found out who owns the yacht.”
“Can you text me instead? I can’t hear you at all.”
“Okay, I’ll text you. I’m hanging up now.”
“What?”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Missed that.”
“Oh, screw it.”
She ended the call and texted:
The yacht is owned by Travis Bishop.
Luka
Yes, the app I have shows the owner of every boat, but good detective work!
Petra sighed heavily as she thought about their exchange. She had been so excited to be the one to find another piece of the puzzle. How would she ingratiate herself to him if she couldn’t get any information he wouldn’t be able to get on his own?
She sat down at her desk and put her handbag in the bottom drawer like she did every morning.
Then she pulled out her regular mobile phone and set in on her desk.
Glancing at The Director, she saw he was sitting back in his chair with his eyes closed, rubbing the bridge of his nose the way he did whenever his ex-wife called.
She quickly pulled out the secret phone, checked to make sure it was on vibrate, then put it in her top drawer, up against the metal partition so she would be able to hear it.
She left the drawer open a crack just to be sure.
And now all she could do was sit here, watch, and wait for clues.