Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
He walked me through every minute of my ordeal from the time I pulled up to the rendezvous spot until the time the Uber driver dropped me off at my house.
Cole obviously got Finn Marlowe’s name, which I knew he would. He got the name of the boat, the description of the man named Marcus who drove the boat, and the details of how they fished me out of the water.
He didn’t get out of me that Finn fired warning shots over Voronin’s men, but that’s only because he never asked me if Finn had a weapon. I know that’s because I portrayed the situation as just two guys out fishing doing a good deed.
Cole doesn’t know about the frequency scanner, the chart with the patrol-window notations in pencil or my suspicions. I glossed over the details with references to the fact I was suffering from hypothermia.
Had Cole asked if they had weapons, I would have told him the truth. If he had pushed at me for the minute details of what the interior of Finn’s boat looked like, I would have divulged the scanner and charts. But he didn’t, and it’s because I intentionally withheld my feelings that Finn might be up to no good out there on the seas.
As it stands, I’m feeling all kinds of guilty I didn’t volunteer it, but I can’t at this point. I don’t want Finn to get into trouble. He saved my life and while I know in my gut he’s probably some type of criminal, I know he’s not a human trafficker.
What I end up doing with that information is another matter, but for now, I want his intel on Voronin, so I’m willing to keep his secrets.
It has me walking the tightest line of my career. While I didn’t lie to him—because Cole would have caught a lie—I told an incomplete truth and made the gaps seem like they couldn’t be filled.
At the end of the conversation, Cole clamps down on my shoulders. “Wish I could shake Mr. Marlowe’s hand. He did Jameson a solid by saving you.”
That made me feel slightly better about protecting Finn.
“Yo, McAdams,” Reid says, snapping his fingers in front of my face. I blink at him, still holding the cookie he gave me. “Where’d you go?”
“Just thinking about the case. I’m sure BOB will give us something to help us make another run at Voronin.”
“We’ll get him,” Reid says confidently.
“Which is my cue to get back to work,” I say, offering them both a smile. “Catch you two later.”
I choose to take the huge, reclaimed timber staircase back down to the main floor, finishing the last cookie on the way and washing it down with a sip of coffee. At my desk, I unlock my display and enter BOB’s main screen. I open the file he flagged at four this morning.
It’s a new vessel pattern spanning times and tide cycles over two months of historical data. Two of the ships pinned are Voronin’s. Leaning back in my chair, I think about my date tonight.
I have a man who said Don’t ask me questions you might not want the answers to and a list of questions I’m going to ask, anyway.
Because I’ve decided that I need the answers.
I lean forward, tap on my keyboard and export the information over into a database I built for this case. I give a command to start cross-referencing the new information to the existing data.
A few more keystrokes, and I’ve got a summary report no longer than two pages that I print. I tuck it into my purse and wonder if I should bring it out during the main course or wait for dessert before I start grilling my new source.
CHAPTER 6
Josie
I’ve changed clothes four times and am still not sure I’m presenting the right vibe for a date with a man I’m admittedly intrigued by and attracted to, but at the same time, want to use for information. I still can’t even wrap my head around the fact that he might be a criminal that I’ll at some point have to turn over to the police, but that’s a problem for another day.
This evening’s problem ends up being solved by settling on my fifth outfit of a cream cashmere sweater cut loose at the shoulders, tighter at the waist with dark jeans and knee-high brown boots with a low heel. I curl my hair in beachy waves and keep my makeup light with some tinted moisturizer, pale blush and mascara. Nothing but gloss on the lips.
I look at myself in the bathroom mirror. I’ve always looked younger than my thirty-one years and my dad always blames it on the freckles across my nose. “It lends to a youthful appearance,” he’s said on more than one occasion.
Maybe.
But tonight I don’t want to give any impression I’m youthful or lacking maturity. I want Finn to take me seriously as a woman—no, an agent—pursuing a very dangerous and ruthless criminal. How I manage that and still be present within the date is part of the game.