Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Pearl Locke sipped from her insulated mug as she waded through search results.
The facial recognition trace she’d initiated had resulted in thousands of possibilities, and they had never developed software capable of the nuance needed to make accurate matches.
So Pearl sat and scrolled through pictures.
She arched her back in a stretch and shifted to rest her legs on the desk. She flicked her eyes left and right to move photos to either the trash or to a possible sightings folder.
So many of these women look the same.
Despite the insulated properties of her mug, her coffee was starting to cool.
“Pause program.”
Pearl removed her feet from the desk and wandered into the kitchen area of the ship.
Ivan sat at the small table there, finishing a salad and reading on his tablet.
He acknowledged her with a nod as Pearl programmed the nutrition distribution system for another cup of coffee.
She bypassed the warning about excessive caffeine consumption and placed her mug under the spout.
Moments later, hot, sweet, cream-laced coffee poured into her mug.
“Any luck?” Ivan asked. He had moved to the recycling unit to scrape his salad scraps and insert his compostable plate and fork.
Nothing went to waste on their small ship.
Efficiency was crucial to their operation.
To be the fastest, smoothest, and best at their jobs meant that they couldn’t waste time searching for food or fuel.
Every last drop of energy was wrung out of every resource. Including the Twins.
She was really starting to hate living up to that fucking moniker.
“I’m removing a fuckton of false positives,” she said.
“Want me to take over?” he offered.
She was tempted to let him. He had a greater tolerance for the drudgery of sifting through files and endless clips.
She shook her head. “I’m hitting a stride. Are you having any luck tracking the getaway vehicle?”
“Not as much as I’d like. But I’m also hitting a stride.” He leaned against the counter and eyed her mug. “You should eat something. Coffee doesn’t make a meal.”
“Yes, Dad.” Pearl rolled her eyes. “It’s bad enough the machine lectures me.”
“Eat a vegetable.” Ivan grinned, softening the rebuke of her dietary choices with his smile. “What are you shooting for, the scurvy-ridden pirate look?”
Pearl laughed. Moments like these, where the few shreds of humanity Ivan still possessed peeked out, were the ones that had made her continue to choose to keep up the schtick.
She could almost see the boy she’d known all those years ago, before the harsh realities of their childhood had nearly smothered the empathy out of him entirely.
“One more batch of photos, and then I’ll choke down something green. Promise.”
Ivan huffed as he wandered back to his workstation. Pearl returned to her desk, clutching her coffee in her hands. There was no warmth emanating from the insulated mug, but the habit to huddle was instinctual. She plonked her feet back on the desk and returned to her scrolling.
Halfway through her coffee, she jerked her feet off the desk.
She was looking at the security stills from Mystic Morsels on 14 And.
The photo was of a blonde woman in a black knit cardigan and a truly unfortunate wide brimmed hat pointing to the gift-wrapping station behind the cashier’s back.
Her features unmistakably matched the parameters of the search.
How broadly did I set the damn program? This should have popped hours ago.
It was troubling to Pearl to identify Princess Alpertti in a security still from a shopping satellite. The level of destruction onboard the medivessel had led Pearl and Ivan to believe that the princess was in the hands of an even more dangerous bunch of mercenaries than themselves.
What sort of mercenaries take their captive to a fucking mall?
She widened the shot, taking in more details, and her stomach dropped.
The possibility Pearl had been both ignoring and hoping for sprang forth from the screen in the form of a short woman with delicate bone structure.
Her brown curls cascaded down her back, and her deeply tanned skin gleamed under the harsh shop lights.
Veronique.
That meant the princess had been on the Rising Dawn.
Hell, maybe she still was. Pearl knew that when she’d been on board, it had been like ripping out her own heart to leave.
She’d much rather be sitting in that lushly appointed lobby, drinking a cocktail, taking in the subtle scent of the pothos and watching the stars stream by.
With him.
Crap.