by Bonnie Vanak
She kept her voice low, aware sound carried over the water, and pointed to the apparatus. “What is that?”
“Rebreather. Closed-circuit scuba. Recycles my breath and eliminates bubbles, so no one can tell I’m down there.”
All the equipment and the grim set of his expression reminded her this was a seasoned warrior. Cooper no longer resembled the laid-back cowboy who enjoyed riding horses and teasing her. Or the angry man who’d lost a beloved sister.
He was rugged and focused.
She peered over the side of the rowboat. “I wish my flashlight were waterproof.”
Cooper tapped the dial of his wristwatch. “This is enough. It has a compass.”
Incredulous, she studied the watch. “And you can see with that? In this water?”
“All farm boys can.”
He eyed his watch, and when they were a good mile out on the water, he set the oars into the boat. Cooper dropped the anchor.
“Stay low,” he warned. “If you hear another boat, power up that flashlight so they see you. And if they come close enough to ask questions, use this.”
Cooper gestured to a fishing pole and a small bait box.
The inky depths swallowed him as he slid into the water without a single splash. The man was pure stealth.
Meg rubbed her arms, more chilled from the implications of what they were doing than the breeze skidding across the lake. She only hoped whatever Cooper retrieved would contain the documents.
Stars glittered overhead like tiny crystals tossed against black velvet. It was lovely out here, little ambient light to obscure the natural darkness. She settled back and tried to distract herself by hunting through the sky for the constellations.
The houses ringing the lake were dark. Most occupants came here for the summer and seldom stayed past Labor Day. For that she was intensely grateful.
Finally she felt herself list sideways. She turned to see Cooper heft a black box onto the boat. Then he pulled himself out of the water. The equipment he wore must weigh at least thirty pounds, yet he climbed into the boat as if it weighed nothing.
Heart pounding with excitement, she examined the box, about the size of a briefcase.
Cooper removed his rebreather and mask, and pulled the hoodie down. “It was down about twenty feet.”
“What if the documents inside are wet?”
He sat the box on the seat and fumbled with the catch. “Doubt it. It’s a Pelican case. Watertight. Your man Randall knew what he was doing.”
Cooper knelt on the boat seat and pried open the box as Meg shone her flashlight inside it.
Empty, but for two bricks weighting the case.
Hope crashed down. “Prescott got to the documents before we did.”
“Doubt it.” Cooper ran his hand over the case’s interior. In the light of the flashlight, his stunning blue eyes were calm and steady as the lake water. “Did Jacobs like puzzles?”
“Adored them. He had the patience to sit for hours with math equations.”
“A man as smart as Jacobs would want to make sure only you got the evidence. By planting all these clues, if someone missed one, their chances of finding the documents would diminish.”
His fingers skimmed the box and then a smile touched his handsome face. “Gotcha.”
Meg craned her neck and watched him pull out a small piece of paper sandwiched between the box and the lining.
“A coupon?” Weary, she rubbed her eyes. “Was he playing games with me?”
Maybe Randall was trying to lead her on a wild-goose chase, and had planned to abscond with the money he’d accused Prescott of laundering.
Cooper shook his head. “It’s another clue. But we’re out in the open here. Put it away and we’ll study it when we get back to the house.”
* * *
Back at the cottage, after Cooper changed into warm clothing, they sat in the kitchen. Meg picked up the coupon he’d found and turned it over.
Cooper watched her face pucker into a puzzled frown. He didn’t like this, didn’t like that her ex could be nearby, watching them. He got up and went to check the window, ensuring the shades were pulled down.
The coupon looked normal. Bold lettering at the top said the user would receive 10 percent off a home Wi-Fi camera. The expiration date was good, too.
And then he caught something off. Next to the standard bar code was a square with symbols.
Meg frowned. “This QR code seems out of place here. I’ve never seen one like this on a regular coupon.”
“You use coupons in Palm Beach?” he asked in a dry tone.
She glared at him. “Yes, I clip them all the time while I’m getting a pedi, so I can save my pennies and purchase more designer shoes. Do you have something to scan bar codes in your bag of secret mission toys?”
He leaned forward, irritated. “Meg...”
“I know your world has been turned upside down with what I told you, Cooper. But mine was turned upside down the day I found out as well. I’m trying to do the right thing.”
If only he could believe her, trust she told the truth. Too much anger and grief had built up inside him over the past six months.
“You still have a life,” he told her, struggling with his emotions. “My sister is dead.”
“And I would have done anything to take that back, to change the past, if I could. I never meant to hurt anyone. If my gran hadn’t been so ill, I would have checked and rechecked all the shipments to make sure a single vest wasn’t sent out.”
Cooper hesitated.
A light sheen of tears shone in her eyes. “Do you believe me that I never wanted to hurt anyone, especially police officers like your sister? Do you believe me when I tell you I want justice, too?”
She sounded weary. He wanted to believe her, but too much was at stake.
“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” he said finally. “What matters is keeping you alive and safe, and finding those papers.”
On his phone, he switched on the app and then swiped his camera phone over the coupon.
A website popped up. She peered over his shoulder.
“Now it makes sense,” she said. “It’s the listing for Randall’s summer home. He must have hidden the documents inside a camera in his home. But why go through all that trouble to hide the documents and cash for me? Why not leave them in the watertight box?”
Cooper whistled at the listing on the house. “Nice digs. Only $2.5 million.”
“It’s a huge house. The documents could be anywhere. Why did he do this to me? Why couldn’t he have handed over the evidence or put it in the car? What’s the point of all this super-secret-agent stuff? It does me no good!”
Her voice rose to hysterics.
He had a bad feeling he knew why Randall Jacobs had been so mysterious, and it had to do with the Irish mob. Cooper set down his cell phone and reached for her hand. “Chill, Meg. Calm down.”
She took in a tremulous breath.
“The fact is, Randall went through an awful lot of trouble just for documents proving the body armor was defective.”
“He did say he would leave me some cash. Maybe he thought water would get into the case and ruin the money?”
“No. There’s something else going on here. Something that he wanted to make sure stayed hidden.”
Her shoulders sagged. She seemed exhausted, and this midnight foray onto the lake had sapped her. Not wanting to worry her further, he opted against telling her what Jarrett had told him earlier about her ex’s possible involvement with Irish mobsters.
Cooper scanned the listing again. “This says by appointment only. We’ll need a real estate agent. My mom’s friend can do it for us. Perfect time to study the layout and return later to search more thoroughly.”
“What’s the use? Prescott probably already found and destroyed everything.”
“Stop being so negative. You’re tougher than that.”
“I’m tired of being tough. I just want to give up. What’s the point?” She splayed her hands against the table. “I’m all alone in this.”
“No, you’re not. You have me. I’m going to help you, Princess. And I never give up.”
Her carnation-pink mouth lifted in a ghost of a smile. “You’re very tenacious, Cooper Johnson.”
“Navy SEALs are. Goes with the job description.”
Meg’s mouth wobbled. “I should never have come here and put your family in all this trouble.”
“I told you I’m involved. I want justice for my sister. And we’ll find a way to get that bastard of your ex behind bars for good. You’re safe here.”
“For now,” she whispered. “Until he makes his next move.”
Cooper squeezed her hand tight. He worried about her, worried about his family. They were endangered as well.
She looked down at his hand covering hers. The bones in her hand seemed so delicate, yet within Meg was a core of solid steel. His blood boiled as he thought of her ex slamming her against a wall, hurting her. No matter what Meg had done, or not done, she didn’t deserve abuse.
No woman did.
Prescott August, you are a dead man if I ever see you, he silently promised.
“We’ll find what you’re looking for. Your ex isn’t going to get within ten yards of you, Princess.”
He would help her search for the missing documents. After that, he couldn’t make any promises. But he’d promised Jarrett he’d look after Meg, and he’d see this assignment through to the end.
He only hoped Prescott August wouldn’t get to the documents first.
* * *
Wearing a plain navy suit, Karen Harrison was a plump middle-aged woman and so friendly and gracious she immediately put Meg at ease.
The Realtor picked them up at the inn the next morning in her beige SUV. For the agent who had listed the house for sale, they would act the part of an engaged couple looking for a home.
Cooper spoke little to her as Karen drove to the house. He seemed distant, and guarded. Gone was the closeness they had shared in the cottage when he almost kissed her. Cooper would have to be a good actor to convince the listing agent he was madly in love with her.
On the drive to Randall’s house, Karen told them the listing agent wasn’t cooperative.
“She wanted a proof of funds letter, verifying that you have the means to purchase such a high-end house, Coop.”
The slightest tension gripped his broad shoulders. “And?”
“I told her that your family owns a very successful and very historical B and B that’s hosted such luminaries as Thomas Edison. She relented.”
Cooper grinned. “Karen, you are a naughty girl. The inn didn’t open until well after Edison died.”
Karen shrugged. “So? You have lightbulbs in the inn, right? Edison invented the lightbulb. It wasn’t a complete lie.”
Meg liked her.
When they pulled into the driveway before the two-story redbrick mansion with its sweeping columns, the listing agent was standing in the portico. A severe-looking woman with dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, she kept glancing at her watch.
They wouldn’t have much time to look over the house.
Pretending to be Cooper’s fiancée was an act she wasn’t certain she could pull off. A knot of anxiety curled in her stomach. Cooper glanced at her. “You all set, Princess? You can do this.”
His encouragement lent her courage. Cooper climbed out of the car and opened her door, ushering her out with old-world courtesy.
As they walked through the expansive home, memories assaulted Meg like bullets. Glad for Cooper’s steady grip on her hand, she tried to concentrate on the layout, looking for clues with the security cameras. There were six security cameras inside and six outside, the listing agent told them.
Randall must have hidden the documents and cash around the cameras.
There was a camera in the living room, hidden by the recessed crown molding. The elegant green living room had a marble fireplace with two flanking Greek stone columns holding leafy plants. An Austrian crystal chandelier gleamed overhead with soft, tasteful lighting.
Matching cream twin sofas faced each other across an antique coffee table tastefully decorated with shiny brass candlesticks holding gold candles, brightening the earthy tones of the room. It was formal and resplendent, yet she preferred the coziness of Fiona’s parlor with its faded but welcoming blue sofa and leather easy chair, and the African violet on the side table.
The two agents went into the great room as Meg hung back, studying the security camera. Cooper gazed around the room. “Very opulent.”
“I hate it,” she whispered. “This room is everything I hated about my marriage, my life. It’s a beautiful prison. I’d rather live in a trailer if it meant being happy.”
He blinked in apparent surprise. “Really?”
She nodded.
They joined the agents in touring the rest of the house, including the basement. The finished basement had a darkroom, which they looked over carefully.
When they returned upstairs, the listing agent took them into the kitchen at the back of the house.
The spacious chef’s kitchen featured wood floors, granite countertops and an island with a sink. A bank of windows overlooked the sweeping lawn marching down the gentle slope to the lake.
“This chef’s kitchen is exquisite, perfect for serving caviar and canapés for cocktail parties. The very finest high-end appliances are featured in this dream kitchen, complete with a pantry and plenty of counter space,” the agent droned.
Meg tuned her out. How many times had she stood at the sink, gazing out the window at the lake, wishing to untie the boat at the dock and drift away? Far away, to an island where no one would ever find her, where no one could ever hurt her again.
An island where a handsome prince would be waiting. He would be rugged and strong, and promise she would always come first in his life.
Never again would she be the little girl whose parents were more interested in a rich, lavish life than their daughter.
Or the granddaughter whose grandmother wanted her to carry on the family lineage.
Or the wife who was a means to wealth and prestige.
There was no such island or prince. But there was Cooper Johnson. Strong, rugged and dependable. She’d started to deeply care for this man, who kept her safe and made her laugh and forget her woes. Devoted to his family.
She wished she could be the object of such intense devotion.
Cooper looked around the kitchen, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. Judging from his appreciative gaze, he wasn’t studying the appliances or the counters. He was looking at places where Randall could have hidden the cash and documents.
Then his gaze focused on the security camera. Small and compact like the others, it hung from the corner of the ceiling. Unlike the others, it did not blend in. Meg’s heart raced. That camera had not been there last time she was here. They needed to see Randall’s office, where he kept the monitors. The agent had rushed them through the upstairs rooms.
Meg shot her coolest look at the listing agent, who clearly wanted the showing to be over. “I wish to examine the upstairs office again.”
Tapping her feet, the woman shook her head. “I have another appointment...”
“Which can wait. I flew in from LA specifically so my dear Cooper could be with me to see this property. If I’m to move my business from Rodeo Drive and work online, I need a spacious office with wiring already in place for my computer equipment,” Meg said in her haughtiest voice.
Karen
coughed politely and Cooper, bless him, assumed a poker face.
The listing agent looked taken aback. “I didn’t realize...what business are you in?”
“Fashion and design,” she shot back, not missing a beat.
Cooper’s mouth twitched slightly.
The listing agent’s expression smoothed out. “Of course, Miss Conners.”
Meg curled her fingers around Cooper’s strong left biceps. “It’s Ms. Conners. The office must be spacious and have the right lighting because I frequently Skype with my clients in London, Beverly Hills and Rome. Kate Middleton is very particular about seeing my designs before ordering them. She keeps a very tight schedule.”
When they were upstairs, Karen made a point of asking the listing agent to show her the basement again. They were left alone in the office.
“Kate Middleton, huh?” he teased. “Good one.”
“I know how to handle people like that agent. Name-dropping is only one way to impress them.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t mention Queen Elizabeth.”
She smiled briefly. “I did meet her once, a long time ago. She is a very gracious lady.”
A large computer monitor showed a display of five interior security cameras and six exterior cameras.
Meg studied the screen. “Cooper, how many cameras did the agent say were inside the house?”
“Six.” He ran a hand over the wall and thumbed it with his knuckles.
“Then why are only five cameras displayed?”
He joined her at the desk. “You’re right. The kitchen camera doesn’t have a live feed. It’s a dud.”
Her heart leaped with hope. “And the coupon was for a security camera...and that security camera in the kitchen is new. It wasn’t in place when I was here last year.”
“Thought the kitchen was an odd place to have a security camera.”
She felt a surge of triumph. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Randall was worried about the chef stealing the caviar.”
“Or the very fine high-end appliances,” he said, mimicking the snobby agent’s high-pitched voice.
