In Too Deep

by Lynn H. Blackburn

  “So you’re saying if I go to this gala with you, all those debutantes and their society mothers will assume you’re off the market?”

  “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “Then I’m in.”

  Wait. What?

  18

  The look on Adam’s face was priceless.

  “Come on.” Sabrina took his hand and pulled him back toward the door. “We need to get a game plan together.”

  As she pulled him to the door, he pulled her back toward the rail. They collided and he wrapped his arms around her. “Bri.” His breath tickled her ear. “You aren’t jealous of those debutantes, are you?”

  She squirmed in his arms but didn’t try too hard to get away. What fun would that be? “No.”

  “I thought we were going to be honest with each other?”

  “Let’s go inside and talk about the gala.”

  “I like talking about this. I’m utterly intrigued.”

  “And you’ll have to stay that way. It’s late. And we have a lot of work to do.” She ducked out of his arms and opened the door.

  “You two get everything worked out? Because we’ve found something very interesting at the top of the guest list.” Gabe pointed at the TV, where the graphic for the charity gala had been blown up.

  She didn’t love that someone had messed with her computer. It felt a bit like an invasion of privacy. But she couldn’t be too aggravated because the graphic for the gala listed the sponsors for the event.

  All seven of the photographs from Lisa Palmer’s briefcase were represented. What were the odds that this was an accident? Was it possible that FreedomForAll was actually helping the perpetrators and not the victims?

  Adam slumped against the doorframe. “You have got to be kidding me. Are we seriously pouring money into a charity that’s dirty?” Adam obviously didn’t think it was an accident.

  Sabrina rubbed his arm. “How do you think I feel? I volunteer for this organization.”

  “Come on, guys.” Anissa patted the sofa. “We’re clearly dealing with some devious and deviant individuals. They’ve done an excellent job of covering their tracks and keeping themselves off the radar. But we’re on to them now, and we’re going to take them down.”

  Anissa was right. Of course. Maybe. Hopefully.

  “You said you had an idea of how you could get us into the gala.” Gabe pointed at the screen. “I think I’d be interested in hearing it.”

  Adam took Sabrina’s hand and walked back to the group. Sabrina grabbed her laptop and settled beside Adam on the love seat.

  “We had a meeting last week to discuss security for the gala,” Adam said. “It’s always tight. Quite a few uniformed personnel outside. Others inside, but always on the perimeter. No one wants heavily armed law enforcement officers in the main ballroom.”

  “Well, it might detract from the festivities.” Gabe rolled his eyes.

  “That’s the concern. But we’ve talked about having some plainclothes deputies. Only in this case they would be black-tie deputies.”

  “So they can blend in,” Gabe said.

  “Yes. You and Anissa could go. I could get you in as security so you wouldn’t have to pay. You could mix and mingle and dance the night away. And as security, it would give you access to the kitchens and the staff. It would even give you a reason to speak to them.”

  “What do you think, Bell?” Gabe asked Anissa. “You said you’d do anything.”

  “I’m regretting my word choice at the moment.” Anissa didn’t look excited about this idea at all. “And I think if you want me to show up at a party with you, you’re going to have to ask me very nicely.”

  Sabrina had never fully understood the animosity between Anissa and Gabe. Something about Anissa kicking Gabe off the dive team for missing training sessions when he was working undercover and then having to let him back on when he quit working undercover.

  Adam had told her those two could barely stand to be in the same boat together for a while, but they’d thawed toward each other quite a bit over the past few months.

  Still, even she could see that Anissa didn’t want to go to a formal gala with Gabe.

  Anissa’s entire body was rigid, and while she was sitting beside Gabe, at least a foot of space was between them. He closed the distance and spoke in a whisper none of the rest of them could hear.

  As he spoke, Anissa’s expression softened. She almost smiled but then sort of pinched her lips together.

  Gabe pulled back and Anissa cut her eyes over at him. Whatever was going on between those two was beyond Sabrina’s ability to discern, but she could tell when Anissa had made up her mind. “Fine. I’ll go.” Somehow the terse words didn’t match the way Anissa’s entire body had relaxed. “But if you stomp on my feet, I’ll have you cleaning the boat for a year.”

  Gabe didn’t argue with her but looked at Adam. “Okay. We’re in.”

  “I’m in too.” Sabrina grinned at Anissa. “Any suggestions about where I can find a dress at this point?”

  “No idea, but we’ll ask Leigh tomorrow. She’ll know.”

  Ryan shuddered. “Y’all please have that conversation when I am somewhere else.”

  “This will be awesome.” Gabe leaned toward Sabrina for a fist bump. “A double date.”

  Anissa smacked his arm. “They will be on a date. We will be working.”

  “Killjoy.”

  Everyone laughed at Gabe’s sour expression. When the laughter subsided, no one seemed to want to break the silence.

  Adam wrapped his arm around Sabrina’s shoulders and she didn’t complain as he pulled her against him. Her eyes slid closed and she couldn’t find the willpower to force them open.

  She had no idea how long they sat that way before the sounds of people standing pulled her back to the moment and she opened her eyes. Ryan was gathering cups. Anissa had the now-empty plate of cookies. Gabe tossed a throw pillow back onto the sofa.

  “Let’s get some sleep,” Ryan said. “Leigh will not be happy with me when she finds out how late the three of you were up.”

  “Okay, Dad.” Gabe smirked. “We’d hate for you and Mom to fight.”

  Everyone said their good nights and promised to touch base Thursday afternoon, if not sooner. Ten minutes later, Sabrina’s last conscious thought was a prayer for the men, women, and children held in captivity a few miles away.

  Please, Father. You came to set the captives free. Help us find them. Help us get them out.

  Adam’s first call Thursday morning was to his dad.

  His dad didn’t even say hi. “Everything okay?”

  “Not really, but we’re hanging in there.”

  A heavy sigh filtered through the phone. “How can I help?”

  “I need to get a security team into the gala.”

  “I see.”

  How much did his dad see?

  “Who did you have in mind?”

  “Gabe and Anissa.”

  He heard the sound of scratching. Probably his dad writing something down. “Okay. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “No problem. But I have a question for you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Will it be safe for your mother to be there?”

  The question made Adam smile. Forty years into their marriage and his dad still looked out for his mom like they were newlyweds. “I don’t expect anyone to be in danger, Dad. Just had a few things come up this week that made me think it would be a good idea.”

  He hoped his dad was reading between the lines. “Sabrina’s coming with me, and I wouldn’t consider having her or Mom there if I thought they would be in danger.”

  “Sabrina’s coming with you? Wow. Then please ask her to save me a dance.”

  “I will.”

  “Adam?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  There was a long pause. “I’m proud of you, son. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah, Dad. I know.”

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nbsp; “Okay. I love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  Adam hit the end button and stared at the phone.

  “You’re moving kinda fast, aren’t you?” Gabe leaned over his desk.

  “That was my dad.”

  “Sure it was.” Gabe gave him an exaggerated wink. “Can you come by my office when you get a few minutes?”

  “Now?”

  “If you’re free.”

  Adam followed Gabe to the homicide office and closed the door behind them. “What’s up?”

  “Who’s in charge of security for the gala?”

  “The security staff at The Porterhouse has the lead,” Adam said. “Not that I currently have much confidence in them, but they’ve taken care of hiring off-duty officers to provide additional security. Why?”

  “Any of our guys?”

  “I don’t know, but I can find out. In years past, I’ve seen plenty of deputies from the sheriff’s office and officers from the city police department. Why?”

  “I want to know who the good guys are. Or at least who they’re supposed to be.”

  “I’ll get a list.”

  “Thanks.”

  The door opened and Anissa entered.

  “Good morning, Anissa,” Adam said.

  Her only response was a slight dip of her head as she took a sip of coffee.

  “Too early, dude,” Gabe stage-whispered.

  “Ah. Not a morning person. Sorry.”

  “It’s not that I’m not a morning person,” Anissa said. “But no one is a four-hours-of-sleep person. I can’t even pretend to be perky on anything less than five.”

  Gabe shook his head. “You had it right the first time, man. Come back after she’s had another cup of coffee and she’ll be a delight.”

  “Thanks for the tip.” Adam headed for the door.

  “Campbell?”

  He turned back to Anissa. “Yes?”

  “Don’t expect to see your girlfriend tonight. We’re going dress shopping.”

  “Thanks for that tip too.” As he left the homicide office he heard Gabe badgering Anissa about what kind of dress she was looking for. If those two survived Friday night, it would be a miracle.

  Two hours later, Adam wasn’t sure if any of them would survive Friday night. When he saw the head of security for The Porterhouse on Friday, it was going to take all his self-control not to slug the guy.

  He gripped the phone tighter. This man was making him crazy. “Walt, I need that list.”

  “I’m not comfortable giving you this information.” Walt was a two-hundred-fifty-pound retired marine and he wasn’t comfortable?

  “Whyever not?”

  “You’re a Campbell. How do I know you aren’t trying to do some sort of corporate espionage?”

  Adam counted to ten. Slowly. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

  “I’m just doing my job, kid.”

  “First of all, I’m not your kid. Second, in this situation the fact that I’m a Campbell is the very reason you will give me the information I’m requesting. It happens to be my charity sponsoring this event, and in that role, I’m the one following up on the security. If you’re unwilling to provide the information, my next phone call will be to Sullivan, and I can assure you I will let him know I plan to make it a point to let all our biggest donors know the security at The Porterhouse isn’t up to snuff.”

  “Our security is excellent.”

  “Then what are you afraid of, Walt?”

  “I’m not afraid of anything!”

  “From where I sit you seem quite defensive. I’m rapidly coming to the conclusion that you’ve dropped the ball and don’t have the kind of security we were told to expect.”

  “How do I know you aren’t going to use this to get information about The Porterhouse?”

  “What do you think I’m trying to get that I don’t already have? I played with Sullivan’s kids in elementary school. I’ve roamed all over that property. I know where the secret door to the kitchen is and how to get into the boathouse from the laundry.”

  “Well, that’s not the—”

  “That is the point. I know the property, and I know the owners, and in this moment I’m an extremely influential guest. If I found out the head of security at one of my hotels was giving a guest the kind of runaround you’re giving me, I’d fire him.”

  “I’m not giving you the runaround.”

  “You certainly aren’t being accommodating, and you should know the first rule of hospitality is to give the guest what they want. All I’m asking for is the list of officers and the rotation schedule. We have some antsy donors who are requesting we provide additional security. I can’t assuage their fears when I’m guessing about your security protocol for the evening.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Okay. I’m done.”

  He hung up the phone and pulled up the number for Sullivan on his cell. Before he could hit dial, his office phone rang. “Campbell.”

  “You’re a jerk, Campbell.” Walt didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Check your email.”

  Click.

  Adam couldn’t help but chuckle as he set both phones down, checked his email, and opened the attached file.

  One security profile glowed on the screen. He hit print but continued to study it while he waited for the hard copy.

  It was as complete and thorough as he’d expected it to be. Walt was a curmudgeon, but he knew how to run security for an event. Adam scrolled through the pages. What was here that Walt didn’t want him to see?

  He pulled the pages off the printer and spread them on his desk. The officers and deputies Walt had hired were solid. And there were an adequate number to cover the parking lot, interior spaces, and building perimeters. The Porterhouse in-house security was taking the property perimeter patrols, which made sense. There was little logic in having officers unfamiliar with the property stumbling around in the dark.

  He studied the facility map. The huge house-turned-inn on the lake had long been one of his favorite Carrington landmarks. He’d spent many happy summer hours playing tag in the fields behind the hotel, climbing trees, and riding his bike on the nature trail they’d built for guests. Sean Sullivan had been one of his best friends and they’d explored every inch of . . .

  Something was missing.

  He compared the map he was looking at with the mental images he was dredging from the far corners of his memory.

  Where were the little cabins?

  The property map showed a large field at the far edge of the property, but no cabins.

  Maybe Sullivan had knocked the cabins down. They’d been old twenty years ago. Or they’d seemed old, anyway.

  But . . .

  He called his dad again. “I have a quick question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Did Sullivan tear down those little cabins at the back of The Porterhouse property? Or did I dream they were there?” His dad and Sullivan had known each other for decades. Most people thought they were bitter rivals, but that had never been the case. They weren’t close, but they had a cordial relationship.

  “You didn’t dream them, and I’m not aware of Sullivan tearing them down. As far as I know, they’re still back there. Why?”

  “Um. No real reason.” He explained his run-in with Walt and that he was studying the security plan for the gala. “The cabins aren’t on the property diagram, but I have this memory of Sean and I playing in them.”

  “My guess is they use them for storage now. They probably wouldn’t want them on a property diagram the guests would have access to.”

  “True. Thanks, Dad.”

  “Any time.”

  “Bye.”

  “Adam. Wait.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I told your mother about Sabrina coming.”

  Oh boy.

  “She’s ecstatic.”

  “Okay.”

  “I need to know if I should rein her joy in a little.”
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br />   And that answered the question about how much his dad was picking up. “I’m thrilled she’s coming. I won’t pretend that if circumstances were different I probably wouldn’t have asked her this year, but that’s only because I’m trying not to rush her.”

  “Got it. I’ll take care of things on this end. You be careful.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  He hit end on the phone and grabbed a pencil. He traced in the twelve cabins he remembered. They’d been tucked back in the woods at the edge of the property. He thought they’d been approximately twenty-by-twenty feet, with low roofs, but his ten-year-old self might have had a skewed perspective of size. There had been little fire pits at each one. And hammocks. He’d loved the hammocks.

  None of them had running water. There’d been two bathhouses, each with a shower and a toilet. He’d used them many times over the years when they’d been too busy playing to go back to the house for a bathroom break.

  If Sullivan was using forced labor . . .

  He walked to the homicide office and went straight to Gabe’s desk. “I might know where some of the victims are being housed.”

  19

  Sabrina didn’t want to go dress shopping.

  Adam had come by the lab and shared his theory about the victims, but he’d flatly refused to consider her suggestion that they raid the place tonight.

  “Bri, we have no proof. We don’t even know if the cabins are still there. We’ll make up an excuse to look for them on Friday night, but for now we have to stick to the plan.”

  “Fine. But I’m shopping under duress.”

  His face crinkled in concern. “You don’t have to have a dress. Not for me. I don’t care if you come in jeans and a T-shirt if you’ll be more comfortable.”

  He so didn’t get it. She had to have the fancy dress, shoes, and hair or she would stick out like the nerd she was and draw even more attention to herself than she was already going to do by showing up on a Campbell’s arm. But how could she explain that?

  “You don’t have to come at all, Bri.”

  “I want to come.”

  His expression said he didn’t believe her.

  “I do. It’s . . . complicated.”

  He traced her cheek with his thumb. “This week has been intense—emotionally and physically. You still have bruises under your makeup. You probably still have a headache. And I’d bet big money your entire body is hurting.”