Secret Assignment

“I believe I’m going to call it a night, my dears,” Lydia announced a little later, as the clock crept toward eight-thirty. “I have a Dick Francis novel waiting for me. He’s left the hero in quite a pickle, and we must get him safely out.” She waved her hand as Shannon showed signs of following her up the steps. “No need to retire at such an ungodly early hour. Stay and enjoy yourself. Poor Gideon must make do with just my company so much of the time. I’m sure he’d enjoy having someone new to talk to.”

Lydia disappeared upstairs, apparently oblivious to the two wary, suspicious people she left staring at each other across the kitchen table.

“You don’t have to stay,” she said after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“You want me to leave?”

His scrutiny set her nerves on edge, but she wasn’t about to admit her unease to him. “Not if you don’t want to.”

He walked over to the counter. “Coffee?”

“No, thanks.” Her earlier sleepiness had fled once Lydia left her alone with Gideon. The last thing her jangling nerves needed was more stimulation.

He returned from the kitchen empty-handed and waved toward the sofa in the front room. “Shall we?”

She wished he would smile. She’d liked the way he looked when he smiled, liked the surprising dimples and the humorous gleam in his blue eyes. Much more tempting, yes, but much easier on her nervous system.

But when he sat across from her perch on the sofa, pulling the large armchair closer, she felt as if she’d just taken a seat in the witness box.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard about Lydia Ross or the general. Or me,” he added with a quirk of his eyebrows. “But Mrs. Ross and I aren’t looking to get in the middle of anything your outfit may be investigating. So if there’s some hidden agenda here, pack your things and I’ll take you back to the mainland first thing in the morning.”

She bristled at his tone. “I am here to help Mrs. Ross. Period. I don’t have any agenda other than that.” She cocked her head. “Considering it was your boat that was sabotaged and your island that was breached by intruders, I’d say you’re the one with an issue, not me.”

Irritation lined his eyes. “Fair enough.”

“I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” She stood. “Good night.”

He stood, unfolding himself to his full height, forcing her to look up. “Good night, Ms. Cooper.”

She climbed the stairs to her second-floor bedroom. Shutting herself in the happy blue room, she sat on the springy mattress and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed with annoyance and her dark eyes snapped with anger.

But at whom was she really angry?

She’d told Gideon she had no hidden agenda, but the truth was, she’d been wondering ever since Jesse gave her the assignment what his interest in Lydia Ross could be. Gideon was right; Cooper Security didn’t handle personal archive security cases as a rule. Big companies with art or other collections that needed high security, maybe. But Jesse normally assigned his best-trained operatives to such cases, well aware that the valuables might be of interest to people willing to break dozens of laws to get their hands on them. General Ross’s collection didn’t seem to be anywhere near so valuable.

In fact, as Lydia Ross had explained during dinner, what most needed to be readied for safe transport were the general’s private papers. Because of his high position in the U.S. Army at the time of his retirement, West Point and other institutions had expressed interest in housing some of the collection. Lydia had hired Cooper Security to help her sort through the papers to see if any needed extra preservation steps taken.

In that sense, Jesse had made a good choice in sending Shannon. She’d had special training in archival preservation, plus a master’s degree in library science. She’d ended up primarily using her computer science degree in her work at Cooper Security, but she was capable of giving Lydia Ross good advice about preserving and cataloging her husband’s work.

The last of daylight seeped away, shadows swallowing her room. And still she didn’t move, either to dress for bed or turn on her light.

If there’s some hidden agenda here...

She opened her cell phone, relieved to find a decent signal, and placed a call home.

Jesse answered on the first ring. “You’re just now getting to the island?”

“No,” she said, kicking herself. Jesse had told her to call when she reached the island, but in the confusion of the boat trouble and the island intruders, she hadn’t given her brother a second thought. “We just had a crazy afternoon.”

“Something happen?”

Normally, she’d be tempted to keep the drama of the afternoon to herself, knowing her brother’s tendency to worry too much about her safety. But Gideon’s suspicion had sparked a few questions of her own. “Actually, we had a little excitement today,” she said aloud, telling him about the fuel tank sabotage and the arrival of unwelcome visitors to the island.

“Really.” Jesse sounded more interested than surprised.

“You knew there would be trouble,” she accused.

“I didn’t know it. Not for certain.”

“What am I really doing here, Jesse?”

“Exactly the job I gave you,” he said sternly. “You help Mrs. Ross with the papers and her husband’s collections. You keep your nose to the grindstone and stay out of trouble.”

“That’s it? You really think that’s going to appease me?”

“Call me if anything else happens out of the ordinary. And get some sleep. You’ve had a long day.” Jesse hung up before she could protest his paternal condescension.

She growled as she hung up the phone. Jesse wasn’t the only one of her brothers and sisters who treated her as if she were still a child, but he was definitely the worst.

It wasn’t her fault she was born last of the six. It wasn’t her fault their mother had decided her career had to come before motherhood or marriage. She hadn’t asked her siblings to make her their pampered, protected little pet.

She pushed herself off the bed and crossed to the window. It had rained a little during dinner, enough that the window sparkled with tiny diamonds of raindrops clinging to the glass. Moonlight peeked from behind thinning clouds, casting a cool blue glow across the night scene.

Through the blur of water, the thick stands of trees east of the house looked like a dark watercolor painting, all soft edges and mysterious shadows, punctuated here and there by the glow of lightning bugs flitting between the trees. It took a few seconds to realize that the light came not from flying bugs but from someone moving through the trees about two hundred yards away from the house.

Curious, she went out onto the balcony for a closer look. It was definitely a light, moving slowly through the trees. Was it Gideon doing another tour of the island for the night?

One way to find out, she thought, heading for the stairs.

When she reached the main floor, it was dark. Gideon was no longer inside Stafford House, so the light in the woods must have been him.

She started to turn back toward the stairs when a niggling sensation at the back of her neck made her reverse course. She went instead to the side veranda that looked out across the trees to the east, hoping for a better view of the light she’d seen from her bedroom window. She had to unlock the dead bolt to step out onto the veranda. The door creaked as she opened it, the loud sound setting her nerves on edge.

Wincing, she eased out onto the wooden porch, wondering if the sounds she was making were loud enough to wake Lydia in her upstairs suite. She stepped gingerly toward the railing, trying to make as little noise as possible from here on.

A damp breeze blew in from the Gulf of Mexico, lifting her hair away from her face. Wishing she’d put her hair in a ponytail before she came downstairs, she finger-combed her hair out of her eyes to keep the swirling strands from blocking her view of the trees.

She stared for a long time, straining for any sign of the lights she’d seen earlier, but the woods were dark and quiet. She released a soft breath and started to turn back to the house when she spotted it.

A light, swinging back and forth with a rocking rhythm, as if held by someone moving slowly, steadily through the woods.

Was it Gideon?

She wasn’t so sure anymore.

She moved around the veranda slowly until she was facing the back garden, where just beyond, a single-story house on stilts rose over the garden, perched on the highest point of land on the island. Like the Rosses’ house, Gideon’s residence also had a widow’s walk around the top gable, though when Shannon had first spotted the house earlier during Lydia’s guided tour of the house and gardens, she’d noticed the widow’s walk on the caretaker’s house looked new, as if it were a recent addition.

There were no lights on in the caretaker’s house. No sign of movement inside. Maybe her first guess had been right. Maybe Gideon was taking a quick tour around the island to make sure everything was safe and secure for the night.