by Camryn King
“You don’t have a cloud account?”
“Yes, and they’re in it. But clouds aren’t foolproof.”
“They’re not?”
“Trust me, I’ve heard stories. I only want you to hold it until I set up a safe deposit box or some other secure place to hold them. With all the bad luck following me lately, I don’t want to be the only one with a hard copy.”
Logan pocketed the small box as the two walked toward the front door. “No worries, Ken. I’ve got you.”
* * *
Logan felt light, happy, as he exited the elevator and strolled through the lobby of Kennedy’s ten-story condominium building. He hated to take advantage of her vulnerable position, and he really did want her to feel safe. But he also wanted her to look at him as something other than a play little brother. Hooking her up with a security system might be the cherry on top of a two-year campaign to win Kennedy’s heart. As he neared the exit doors, his mood changed. He could have sworn that the man dressed in black sitting in the lobby was the same one he’d seen across the street hours ago when on his way to her unit. He continued out the door, pulling out earbuds as though going on a stroll. But he didn’t go far. Later when asked he wouldn’t be able to explain why, but when he saw the man walk across the lobby headed for the elevator, Logan cut back through a side door and hit the stairwell toward Kennedy’s unit eight floors up.
5
Kennedy was about to return to the task that Logan had interrupted when another distraction sounded—her rumbling stomach. With everything that had happened, Kennedy had forgotten to eat. She bypassed the office and headed to the kitchen. The insurance claims for this latest break in would have to wait. Fortunately, she grocery-shopped on Saturday and had a full fridge. She pulled out a container of prepared salad from the organic mart and a container of chicken salad from the corner deli. She placed those on the counter and reached for a package of bulkie rolls and a bag of BBQ kettle chips from the cabinet. She placed those items next to the other containers, then walked toward the stereo and turned on her favorite afternoon drive show hosted by the comedian she once called her play husband. A nice groove oozed out of the speakers and filled the room. She did a little bop on the way back to the kitchen, glanced over at her office and took a detour to look inside. Even though Logan had placed it in a very unobtrusive spot, it would take her a while to get used to seeing the camera mounted near the ceiling, against the office’s farthest wall. It took in the door and the desk, mainly, giving Kennedy the idea to rearrange the room so that her file cabinet could be captured as well. The music transitioned to a love song. That Logan’s face swam into her head would have been problematic had she acknowledged it was because of the song playing. Instead she told herself it was because of the security system he’d installed.
Yes, that’s it. Annoying little boy.
Annoying, thoughtful, caring, fine young man who promised big things, whispered the side of her brain that she couldn’t control. She smiled despite her resolve, and bopped into the kitchen. She’d just pulled a plate from the cabinet and pulled apart the roll to make a sandwich when she heard muffled voices followed by what sounded like a scuffle in the hallway outside her door. WTH? Frowning, she set down the roll and walked over to turn down the music in time to hear the heavy pitter patter of running feet. She raced to her door and pulled it open without thought. Her hand flew to her mouth with the sight that greeted her. She didn’t know what shocked her more—Logan on the hallway floor or the blood that dripped from his face.
“Logan!”
She rushed out and reached for him, but he shook off her hands.
“I’m alright.” He got to his feet and put a hand to the nose gushing blood. “Punk motherfucker,” he mumbled, brushing past Kennedy and entering her place.
She followed behind his long, purposeful strides toward the main bathroom, watched as he turned on the cold water tap and began washing the blood away from his face.
“What happened?”
“Do you have some ice?”
“Yes.”
“Can you get me some?”
Kennedy hurried out of the bathroom, stopped at the linen closet in the hallway and after pulling out a wash cloth continued to the refrigerator. She placed several cubes into the towel, then placed the towel under the faucet to wet it. As she turned Logan passed her, a handful of tissues against his face as he walked into the living room area and plopped down on the couch.
She joined him there. “Here.” She held out the towel with the ice cubes, then sat next to him. He replaced the tissues with the ice pack, then laid his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, her voice low, soft and laced with concern. He nodded. She watched him for another moment, noticed as the rising and falling of his chest became slower and steadier.
“What happened?”
“A dude was casing your house.”
“What do you mean?”
Logan sat up, pulled the pack away from his nose. “Is it still bleeding?”
“Doesn’t look like it, but you might want to keep it there anyway so that it doesn’t swell.”
“I noticed this cat when I came in here. I don’t know why, just something about him that made me kind of catalog him away in my mind. When I got off the elevator and saw him in the lobby, everything in my body went on alert. But I played it cool, thought maybe it was me being paranoid for you, that maybe he lived here and just happened to be downstairs both times I was there. I had pulled out my earbuds and put them in my ear, hit the door as though I was headed away. But I stopped as soon as I passed the glass and looked back to see if he was still sitting there. That fool was headed straight for the elevators. That’s when I slipped through the side door and came up the stairs.”
Kennedy looked at Logan incredulously. “What made you react like that?”
“The man just felt creepy to me. I thought maybe he was the one who burglarized your place and was coming back to do something to you. I couldn’t get on the elevator with him because that would obviously make him change his plans. So I took the stairs and hid in the hallway. Sure enough, he walked straight to your door.”
“No!”
“I came around the corner then, my phone in hand. He was at your door, head down, focused. I think he was picking your lock.”
“What? Logan, no way.”
“I wanted to get a pic of his face and distract him from his task, so I called out to him. ‘Hey, buddy.’ He looked up, but as soon as he saw the phone he turned his head away and came straight toward me, trying to get my phone. That was a huge hell no. We started tousling. I punched dude dead in his face, and for my troubles took an elbow to the nose.”
“Geez, Logan. I’m so sorry.” She stood up and began to pace. “What the heck is going on?”
“I got one shot off before he saw me.” Logan pulled out his phone, scrolled to photos and held it out. “Do you know him?”
Kennedy reached for the phone and studied the blurred shot Logan captured of the side of the man’s face. Her eyes narrowed as she peered at it closely, willing up a memory that would help her recognize him. But she shook her head as she gave back the phone. “I don’t know him.”
She came back to the sofa. “Let me see him again.” Logan handed her the phone. She enlarged the picture, studied it from different angles. “I swear, Logan, I don’t know that man from anywhere.”
“Well, he obviously knows you, and he knows that you know me. Otherwise how did he know to wait until I was gone? How did he know that you were the person I’d come here to see?”
The question sat Logan straight up. He got up, a frown marring his handsome features as he began looking around her house.
“What are you—”
A stern look accompanied the finger to his mouth as he crept across the room, looking here and there for what to Kennedy remained a mystery. She tiptoed after him. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Getting you out of here,” he replied, just as low.
Following behind him, Kennedy had the awkward feeling that she was the guest and this was Logan’s house. After checking both bedrooms and bathrooms along with the office, he returned to the kitchen. “Ah, cool. I’m hungry, too,” he said, in a regular voice. “Why don’t you bust out a couple sandwiches. This place has me feeling claustrophobic. We can grab those chips and go soak up some sun.”
Kennedy didn’t question the suggestion. Although her appetite had fled, she made two generous chicken sandwiches and reached below the counter to a roll of plastic wrap and stack of recycle bags. After wrapping the sandwiches and using some of the salad to top them she placed everything in the recycle bag, along with a couple cans of sparkling water and a stack of napkins. By the time she’d finished, Logan had disposed of the tissue and ice pack. Aside from a couple scratches, his face looked as handsome as it ever did.
“Ready?”
“I am.”
He nodded toward her office. “Grab your laptop.”
“Okay.” She handed him the bag of food and went to the office. “Where’d you park?”
“Not far. Let’s go.”
Kennedy’s and Logan’s eyes were everywhere as they exited the elevator and walked through the lobby. She didn’t notice anything or anyone out of the ordinary. Most importantly, she didn’t see the man in black. There was little conversation from the condo building’s door to the car. But once inside, the floodgates unlocked.
“Okay, Logan. What the hell is going on?”
“I think your place might be bugged.”
“What?”
“Think about it. The dude knew I came to see you. How else would he know? He wasn’t on the elevator with me. I don’t think he had time to get from where I saw him to the elevator and see what floor I took. And even if he did, how would he know which apartment? Either he’s been following you for days and saw us together at Leftovers, or there are hidden mics, maybe even cameras, all over your house.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“You should be scared.”
Logan drove to an area near Lake Michigan. He parked the car and reached back for the bag of food. Once again quiet became the third companion as they walked across the grass to a bench shaded by a tree that had a great view of the water. Kennedy was glad that he chose it. She was calmed by the gentle sway of the waves. As she focused on the water, she heard Logan rattling around inside the bag. He handed her a sandwich, pulled out and opened the chips and set one of the cans of water on the table.
“This is good,” he said, after a healthy bite. “Did you make it?”
“No. It came from the deli down the street from my house.”
“Are you going to eat?”
“In a minute.” She watched the water a moment longer before opening her sparkling water and reaching inside the bag for a chip.
“I just don’t get what’s happening. I can’t figure it out.”
Logan nodded, and finished his bite. “I hear you. It’s crazy, man. When I saw that guy heading for the elevator, my heart stopped. I had this feeling that if I didn’t get there in time, something really bad was going to happen.”
Kennedy looked at him, eyes wide. “You felt that?”
“I did. Something about him, man. Like he was a spy or a hitman or something. I’m serious! He gave off that kind of vibe. And the fact that he didn’t want his picture taken? He’s working for somebody.”
“But who?”
“Only you can answer that question, babe.”
Kennedy ate half the sandwich and while it was delicious, nerves cut the size of her stomach in half. She grabbed her water and walked toward the lake’s edge, trying to draw peace from its tranquil state. Who could have something out for her? Was the guy Logan fought the one who broke into her home and stole her desktop? If so, why? Kennedy racked her brain, ran down the list of associates from the past six years that she’d worked in the business. The results? Nothing. Her mind was a total blank. What had she done in another life to bring on this karma? A shadow announced Logan’s presence beside her. He picked up a handful of small pebbles near the edge of the grass and began chucking them into the water.
“You sure pissed off somebody, girl.”
Kennedy didn’t answer, just watched him toss rocks. One produced a glimmer of light across the water’s surface. Something about the light niggled her conscience. Then Logan spoke.
“I say we put together all the evidence—”
“What evidence? I have none.”
“Then we start from that first robbery—what they took, what you remember, and try and figure it out from there.”
“Okay.”
Logan turned and faced her directly. “So . . . before you went to the Bahamas, had anything unusual happened?”
“No.”
“No strange phone calls, no stalker types around your building, no colleague wanting a job you got?”
“Nothing. If anything, life was pretty boring.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
At a time like this, Kennedy admitted that Logan was probably the only one who could make her smile.
“So, if nothing happened before the Bahamas, we have to focus on what went on down there.”
Kennedy thought back to landing in the Bahamas, working twelve-hour days traipsing the island, then poring through hundreds of photos for ones that would be best in the spread.
“That Friday, I worked some more on the article and then left to spend the afternoon on the boat. I’d become friendly with the driver, or captain I guess you’d call him, and when I mentioned what I wanted to do on my day off, he gave me a good price for a private tour.”
“Sure he did,” Logan mumbled. He picked up another handful of rocks, stood, and began tossing them in the water in a way that made some of them skip.
“It was a beautiful day, picture perfect,” Kennedy continued, ignoring Logan’s response. “Clinton has lived his entire life on the island and was basically an encyclopedia when it came to all things Bahamas, and most things Caribbean. We sailed all around the big island, a bunch of the smaller ones and . . .”
Her voice trailed off as the sun glinting off a rock Logan threw caught her eye.
Logan looked at Kennedy. “Aren’t you going to finish the sentence? You sailed around and . . . what?”
“Never mind.”
“Oh, it’s like that, huh? What happened on the boat stays on the boat.”
“I wasn’t thinking about Clinton just now.”
“But you spent a lot of time with him, hanging out, taking selfies.”
“And?”
“I’m just saying . . . seems like you got pretty cozy with that dude.”
“Yeah, real cozy,” Kennedy sarcastically responded.
“Cozy enough to get invited back to your room?” Logan asked.
Kennedy rolled her eyes.
“That question isn’t about getting in your bedroom business. It’s about who robbed you in the Bahamas and if that person has any connection with the lick that happened here, or the man who tagged me at your front door for trying to take his picture.”
Logan’s words made Kennedy swallow a quippy comeback. He offered a perspective she hadn’t considered, one that caused her to look at Clinton’s supposed acts of kindness in a whole new light. Conducting her tour on his day off. Initially turning down payment for said tour. And the drink?
“I’m right, huh?” Logan pressed. “Y’all hooked up.”
Kennedy’s brows scrunched together as she concentrated, watching the wind cast ripples on the water while she replayed a mental video of that Friday’s boat ride.
“Well, did you?”
“No, but I never thought about him being involved either and given what you just said, maybe I should.”
She told him about Clinton working on his day off, his flirty behavior, and how there was food and drink onboard. She also disclosed the unc
omfortable facts that until now she’d kept hidden, about waking up naked and fearing she’d been raped.
“There was no sexual assault,” she finished. “The examination suggested that, and the rape kit proved it. With all the flirting that happened between us, I can’t see Clinton having the opportunity for sex and not taking it. Besides, if that were his goal, he could have done it while we were out on the water, far from prying eyes or a way for me to escape. He could have robbed me then, too. Most of what was later taken I had on the boat. My wallet, credit cards, cellphone, camera . . .”
“Maybe he assumed you had a lot more electronics in your room. They got your computer, right?”
“Yes, but that’s about the only thing I didn’t have with me. Why risk breaking into my room and getting caught on video or by hotel security? That doesn’t make sense. I won’t cross him off the list just yet, but I don’t think he did it.”
“Maybe it was an inside job, someone who works at the hotel.”
“I thought about that all week, the people I encountered during the time I was there, especially Hank, an overly-friendly concierge; Darlene, the suspicious-acting front desk supervisor; and housekeeping, because of their access to the room. But there were better ways to pull this off with hotel staff. While I was in the shower or down in the lobby. Why would they chance coming into the room while I’m there? I’m a fairly light sleeper. How could they have drugged me and I not wake up for even a second?”
“Didn’t you say you stopped at the bar that night? The bartender could have slipped something in your drink and eased in later, once he thought you were knocked out.”
“It’s possible.” Kennedy returned to the picnic table and sat on a bench. Logan sat on the table beside her. “I keep coming back to the guy I met that night at the restaurant, the man who called himself Jack Sutton. Everyone that we’ve mentioned had a legitimate reason to cross my path, except him. He decides to have dinner at the same time that I do, gets seated next to me, strikes up a conversation and is conveniently staying at my hotel. Could all of that be coincidence? I don’t think so. He came out of nowhere and disappeared just as quickly. Without being seen, I might add—at any time, by anyone.”
