Chapter 20
Stress Test
Zach was reviewing camera feeds in the new security office when David cut into his thoughts.
Zach. Trouble.
What? His eyes stayed on the screen: rewinding, replaying a shadow shift near the staff entrance.
Either one of the electricians is an idiot, or someone intentionally rerouted a power feed under the spa deck.
That got Zach's attention. David didn’t use terms like idiot lightly. Can you show me?
Not without Lena here. I’m on the pool deck—the outdoor hot tub. You’ll want eyes on this.
He was already moving.
A wall of bamboo surrounded the utility area—designed to hide the equipment from guest view. Quiet. Isolated. Easy to overlook. Easy to access if you knew where to go.
Zach slowed as he approached, scanning the surrounding zone. No movement. No sound beyond the muted hum of systems and distant waves. No obvious disturbance.
David crouched at an open panel, tool kit beside him.
Zach took in the scene in one sweep. Panel open. Screws removed—one in the dirt. Cover leaning off-angle.
He knelt beside David, focus narrowed. Fresh tool marks on the terminals. Clean, not rushed.
David shifted, pointing. “Here.” A feeder line had been moved from its original circuit and rerouted to a secondary distribution branch. A bypass jumper installed with expert precision.
“That line shouldn’t be pulling from the secondary branch. Someone physically rerouted it.” David said, his voice tight with concern. Someone accessed the panel, as you can see.
Are you sure it was originally wired right?
Yes. I checked it myself last week.
“Implications?”
David blew out a breath. “Under normal load? It would hold. Hit it with a surge—generator switch, peak HVAC draw, anything that spikes the system—and it’ll overload. Fail hard.” David’s jaw tightened.
Zach’s gaze returned to the wiring. “Good news?”
“It’s clean work.”
His eyes narrowed. “Bad news?”
“Whoever did it knows what they're doing.”
Not random vandalism. Not amateur sabotage. Zach’s mind raced through the implications. Test point. Stress trigger. Delayed failure.
A stress test. Someone testing the resort’s infrastructure. Learning its vulnerabilities.
That’s what I think. David confirmed.
Zach pulled out his phone, hit a contact. “I want every maintenance staff member at the Spa Utility Deck. Now.” He disconnected without waiting for a response.
David pushed to his feet. “If you’ve got this, I’ll check the pool equipment room.”
“Do it. Keep me informed.”
David took two steps away, then paused. “FYI: Nick and I are heading to the main island later today for a meeting with the inspector. We’ll be back in the morning, so don’t expect us tonight.”
Zach nodded once. “Keep your phone on.”
David left. Silence settled.
Zach stood alone with the open panel. He paced outward, scanning the perimeter. Foot placement. Disturbed ground. Entry path. The dirt near the panel showed light compression. Nothing obvious, but not untouched either. No discarded tools. No debris other than that one screw.
Whoever did this hadn’t lingered. In and out. Professional.
He circled again, slower this time. The bamboo screening swayed in the breeze. Beyond it lay the hardened path. Clean access. Clean exit.
The crew arrived within ten minutes. Five men, all wearing work shirts and tool belts. He studied them as they approached. Posture. Eye movement. Breathing. No one broke formation. No one avoided his gaze. Confused looks.
Good.
Or well-trained.
“Who worked the north utility run this morning?” Zach asked.
Answers came rapidly, overlapping. No hesitation. He let the silence stretch after. People filled silence. No one added anything.
“Anyone access this panel since installation?”
Head shakes. Firm. No tells. Just discomfort at being questioned.
“Are any temporary workers on site today?”
A pause. There. The youngest guy—early twenties, baseball cap backwards—shifted his weight.
“Uh… yeah. I saw someone clearing brush. Thought he was landscaping.”
Zach’s attention sharpened. “You’re in maintenance. How’d you know about him?”
“He asked me about a work order for the spa deck. He said you cleared it—you wanted the brush cut back a little more.”
Zach went still. “Used my name specifically?”
“Yeah,” the kid swallowed. “Said Zach Steele signed off.” The kid’s eyes widened. “That wasn’t right?”
Not hesitation now. Nerves.
“Description.”
“Forty, maybe. Dark hair. Work clothes. Had a wheelbarrow and clippers. I figured—”
“You figured wrong.” Zach didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t need to. The kid flinched anyway. “No one works these systems without direct authorization from me or David. Written. Verified. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
Zach dismissed them with a nod and pulled out his radio. “Security team—flag all unidentified personnel. No one operates solo. Verify credentials on sight. I want eyes on every contractor, every sub, every—”
Gravel crunched under a foot. He turned.
Emma stood at the edge of the pathway, concern clear in her dark eyes. She’d heard too much.
He finished the call, clipped the radio back to his belt.
She stepped closer. “What’s wrong?”
“Security issue.” His tone was even. Controlled. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
Emma studied him silently for a moment, assessing, before she spoke.
“On my way back from the village,” she said, voice steady, “I saw a groundskeeper I didn’t recognize.”
Zach’s attention snapped to her.
“North path. He had a wheelbarrow and tools, but something felt off.” She held his gaze. “Zach, I know all our staff by sight and all the standard contractors. He wasn't familiar at all.”
Every instinct honed over his years in Delta snapped into focus.
Footprint on the beach. Bird spooked in the trees. Sightline from the ridge. Unknown worker.
Now, sabotage.
The pieces locked together with brutal clarity.
“Where exactly?” Zach was already moving.
Emma fell into step beside him. She answered as they walked—clear, concise. Clothing. Tools. Movement. No wasted words. Above average recall.
“Face?”
“I didn’t get a good look at his face. His cap was pulled down,” she admitted. “But I’ve interviewed or met almost every staff member on this island. I didn’t recognize him. When I realized that and turned back, he was gone.”
Because he wasn’t staff. Zach didn’t question that. He trusted her read.
The north path was empty of all but palm shadows stretching across the packed earth like grasping fingers. Wind through fronds. Distant surf.
Emma stopped. “Here.”
He moved past her, scanning low. Ground first. Then edges. Then concealment zones.
There. Wheel track. Partial. Obscured—but not erased. He traced it with just the tip of his finger. Led off-trail. Temporary concealment.
“He waited,” he muttered.
“For what?”
“For you to leave.”
Emma went still.
Zach stood, pulling up the staff roster on his phone, cross-referencing. Assignments. Contractors. Subcontracts. Nothing. No match. No authorization. No record.
His jaw tightened. Inside the perimeter. Moving freely. Using Zach’s authority to gain access and manipulate systems. Testing infrastructure. The threat level in his head escalated. Red.
“Zach.” Emma’s voice pulled him back. “What did you find?”
He looked at her. Sunlight filtered through the palms, catching in her hair. Concern in her eyes. Focused, but unaware of the scale of the threat. The same woman who made him coffee this morning. Black. Without asking. Who’d stood at his sink like she belonged there.
Who had strolled unknowingly—unprotected—past an active threat.
Anyone close to him became a target. The thought hit hard. Immediate. Unwelcome.
He shut it down. Compartmentalize. Control.
He couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t pull her deeper into this. The less she knew, the safer she’d be.
“Probably nothing.” The lie came out smooth, practiced. “Just following protocol.”
Emma’s eyes narrowed. She realized he was holding back, but she didn’t push. She just considered him with that steady, perceptive gaze that saw too much.
That was worse.
Zach turned away first, heading back up the trail to the hotel, Emma falling into step beside him. “Stay in the hotel area. I’ll catch up with you later. We’ll discuss your little side trip then.”
He veered off toward the security office, already running through the next moves. Tighten perimeter surveillance. Lock down access points. Review forty-eight hours of footage. Flag every unknown face. Re-verify all staff credentials.
Find the entry point. Find the gap. Find him. Inform Nick and David.
Behind him, he could feel Emma stop. Not following. Watching.
He didn’t look back.
His instincts on the beach were right.
This wasn’t random.
Someone was on the island.
And Emma had walked right past him.