“I suppose.” Tenuk shrugged.
“Is the plane ready?”
“Plane?”
“Today, tomorrow and then out. Enough time to gain her trust, although earlier would be better. Considering how she is, what she knows, that might not be possible.”
Tenuk looked pained. “This is the first I’m hearing of it.”
“Nothing was arranged.” There was a flat edge to his words and his mind ran through the ramifications of the oversight. “Vern was going to handle it.”
“You’re sure?”
He hadn’t followed up. There hadn’t been time. He began to rework the possibilities. They couldn’t stay any longer. He’d get in touch with Vern immediately. Too much time here was risky. “What’s the word from Georgetown?”
“The disappearance of a local teacher and the explosion has made news.” Tenuk pushed back from the railing. “That doesn’t give you, or us, much time. There’s a lot of money up for grabs.” He rubbed his thumb against his chin. “Another mistake like the last and she’s dead. Getting too close to people and then the car...” He shook his head. “She’s lucky.”
Josh couldn’t disagree with that. But he understood what she’d done and why she’d done it, too. The need for stability, a place to call home—the need to blend. But she had blended too well. She’d blended right into sight.
Chapter Eight
Josh looked at his watch.
Six o’clock. They’d landed over two hours ago and he was now established in a room three doors from hers.
Dinnertime.
He pushed the empty bag of peanuts aside and stood up. Outside there was silence. He sat back down.
His mind shifted to the faulty intelligence that had brought her to this point.
There’d been a spotty internet trail. Other than a few communications out of a Thai resort four months ago that unfortunately for Emma Whyte had led to Singapore, there had been nothing. Only silence. But it had been enough to give him a direction and a continent: Asia.
“You’re on your last legs,” he murmured.
He put on the glasses and pulled on the baseball cap emblazoned with the words Mulu Caves. He angled the hat, tipping it slightly back from his face.
He grabbed what they called a man-purse or satchel. To him it was a purse, a distasteful and currently useful accessory. He slung it over his shoulder. He glanced in the mirror. If one didn’t look at his buff arms or notice his tan, and if he kept his lips softened to detract from the hard line of his chin, he could pass as a typical tourist. No threat.
There was the distinct click of a door being opened. He glanced at the monitor strapped to his wrist. It looked like a regular watch but it was far from that. It could function as speakers for a listening device, act as a GPS and still tell time. It also could be programmed for myriad other things, which he hadn’t had time to configure before he’d been on the road for this assignment.
He stood up, gave her a minute or two to get a jump on him, and then opened the door. The heat of the afternoon had shifted to a muggy feel, and the earthy smell of rain permeated the air. But the rain was only a fine mist, warm and balmy. He began a leisurely walk along the wooden decking that bordered the cottages and fed them all into the main areas of the resort.
He turned the corner at the end of the line of cottages just as she entered the dining room. He took his time, looking here and there, running a finger along the wooden railway and all the time covertly watching.
Josh frowned as he reassessed the dining area for the second time that day. Natural light spilled in through a bank of windows that lined every side of the rectangular building. If there were trouble, there was little to no protection there. His hand went to the collar on his golf shirt and he adjusted one lapel so that it stood up slightly. The material clung in the heat and itched uncomfortably. The glasses slid and he pushed them back up with his thumb.
He reached for the door, gave the glass plate a push just as a shadow passed behind him.
Josh spun around, dropping his hand and touching the handle of his gun.
There was no one there. Yet someone had been. He’d felt it with an instinct that was rarely wrong.
There was movement to his left.
He shifted, turning sideways, presenting a smaller target as he scanned the resort. Four older couples in the distance, standing around—probably having a conversation about what they were going to do tomorrow.
Not the problem. He’d seen them come in.
His gaze went to where two men were talking, their voices raised and slightly slurred.
Something shifted again and seemed to move in the rapidly dwindling light. It was in the forest that bracketed this raised resort. That was where the trouble was, where he had always known it would be. He just hadn’t expected it so soon.
Branches bent and twisted as a nearby tree shifted in a slight breeze. He eased forward, ready to confront, ready to—
A woman screamed.
He swung around and saw the same three backpackers he’d seen earlier, twentysomethings who were staying at the resort tonight. Tenuk had told him it was a one-night splurge. They weren’t the problem. He could see that in the freeze frame in which they stood, as they turned startled faces in the direction of the scream.
He dropped his hand and headed toward the group and the origin of the scream.
“I’ve got this.” It was Tenuk. His hand rested briefly on his arm, staying him. “I think I have an idea what the problem is. Nothing serious. Go have supper.”
Josh watched Tenuk disappear among the backpackers, who seemed to overwhelm him in size and appeared as though they could easily overpower him. That was if Tenuk were a man of ordinary means, but as a member of Malaysian Special Forces he could take down a man or two with ease, just using his hands.
He stood there for a minute, a frown on his face as the backpackers scattered and he had a clear view as Tenuk spoke to the screaming woman and gestured to the ground. Even in the gathering dusk, Josh could see the problem. It was now clear that the scream had been nothing but the woman coming in unexpected contact with the resort’s mascot—a foot-long gecko.
Tenuk. He’d appeared out of nowhere. As if he’d been watching Josh.
He stood there for a minute, maybe two, just watching—thinking, gathering information.
Finally, he turned and strode the short distance to the dining room. He opened the door and entered the large space. The windows he had noticed earlier ran the length of two walls and seemed to frame the second exit on the far side of the room. Tropical trees filled the northeast and southwest corners. The room was over half-full, and he noted approvingly that Erin had taken a seat by one of the potted plants, nearest the exit, as well as the kitchen.
He folded his hands behind his back and scanned the room, checking out each of the occupants, hoping the image he presented was that of a regular diner scouting out a table.
At the opposite corner and farthest away was a sixtyish couple, leaning forward and deep in conversation, a bottle of wine listing in a wine bucket beside them. To the right and fifteen feet away was the couple he’d watched check in not two hours ago. They chatted with another couple, who appeared to be in their midforties and whom he’d already filed as nonthreatening. In the center was a family with two small children. The woman had vibrant red hair that he’d noticed the moment he’d entered. It was like a beacon—that and her laugh. He frowned. Children were dangerous in a situation such as this. They were wild cards that could become a danger to themselves and to everyone around them. Closer and to his right was another couple, Japanese; he’d heard that they were taking a vacation from their corporate jobs.
Erin looked up and smiled at him.
He smiled back and headed toward her.
“Hello,” he said wi
th what he hoped was an easygoing, guy-next-door smile. He glanced around, fidgeted and then smiled at her again. “Wow. It’s a big place.”
“It is,” she said and put down her menu.
“I should find a seat,” he said and started to turn and walk away.
C’mon, he thought, work with me.
Then he thought of something and turned back. “Have you been here long? I mean, have you ordered yet?” he asked, one hand on the back of the empty chair at a nearby table but his eyes were on her. He pulled out the chair and sat down at the table next to her.
“No, I haven’t.” Her eyes grazed over him, and she looked ready to say something before she looked away.
Instead, she leaned forward, her arms crossed and her elbows touching the table. She wasn’t as thin as he’d thought. Her cleavage was deep and creamy smooth and... He drew his gaze away.
He picked up the menu and then put it down as the waiter stopped and asked what he’d like to drink. He ordered a Coke and then picked up the menu. He looked over at her. She was tapping a finger on the table.
“It’s strange,” he added, a note of hesitation in his voice. “I don’t usually eat alone.” He cleared his throat, kept his eyes on the menu even as he felt her eyes on him.
“Join me,” she said.
He looked over at her, and she looked at him with a frown and less welcome in her face than her invitation justified.
“You don’t mind?”
“No, of course not. I don’t like eating alone. I imagine you don’t, either.”
“I don’t.” Actually, he did. He enjoyed being alone. His job demanded that he did.
“Your boyfriend’s not joining you?” he asked.
“I...” She hesitated, glanced behind her and then straight at Josh.
Again he was caught, mesmerized, by the intense blue of her eyes. They were an identifying mark that pegged her immediately, a unique color that one could not fail to notice. He wondered why she hadn’t obtained contacts to change the color. That fact sifted into a series of others as he noticed her hair was shorter than it had been even at the airport, shoulder length, blue black in the muted light. The wig was gone. He looked over her shoulder where a breeze seemed to move the umbrella tree whose branches hung wild and bushy near the exit. He looked away—it was nothing, no threat. He stood up and moved over to her table where he sat down across from her.
“He doesn’t exist,” he suggested softly as he set the menu down in front of him and looked seriously at her. He held up his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply...” He let the words trail off. “I just read in Lonely Planet of how in areas like this, young women were advised to pretend to be with a boyfriend. And I thought that maybe, that’s what...”
She shook her head, looking slightly chagrined. “It’s all right.”
He leaned forward. “Smart move on your part.” He leaned back and dropped his hands on the table, his posture open, nonthreatening. “A woman traveling alone is, especially in remote areas like this, not always wise.”
“You’re right and for the reason you just stated.” But even as she said it her lips thinned and she sat back, crossing her arms across her chest.
“Look, I didn’t mean any offense.”
“None taken. I’m on sabbatical and I’ve always wanted to see the caves.” She shrugged, and he admired her ability to spin an off-the-cuff yarn. “None of my friends were into it, so I decided it’s now or never.”
“Can’t say I blame you,” he agreed. “I’m kind of a similar story. Just wanted a bit of adventure before winter sets in.”
“Adventure,” she repeated and it was as if she were turning the word over in her mind. “Yes, it is an adventure to travel to a place so remote. Most of my friends would never consider it.”
“It’s the perfect place.” He almost grimaced at the word perfect. “At least from my limited experience. I’m from Coal City, Illinois. Well, that’s where I grew up. You?”
“Toronto,” she said softly, and he wasn’t sure but he detected an edge to her voice.
“Toronto,” he acknowledged. “Canada,” he said with a hint of doubt in his voice. He was, after all, Josh, naive tourist, with little interest in much more than whether the Cubs would win this season and what he would choose for supper tonight on his first adventurous trip. She didn’t need to know that not only did he know where Toronto was and how many miles it was from the American border, he could pinpoint every major and many minor cities in Canada and in more than a hundred other countries, as well. He also could tell her that Toronto was the fourth largest metropolis in North America and list the three that preceded it and a laundry list of those that followed.
His thoughts shifted.
Toronto.
It was brilliant. He’d thought that earlier. That the city she’d flown out of to get to the first exit off the continent had become the one she declared as her home base. Not true, of course. He knew that she’d spent little more than the time it took to change transport before she had been on her way again.
He’d followed her trajectory from San Diego to Vancouver, Canada, where she’d arrived by bus, and then taken the train across that country before she’d taken another bus in a series of transfers out of Toronto to St. John’s, Newfoundland. From there she’d taken a container ship halfway around the globe. He suspected at the time, as he still did now, that she had been making the trail as long and as distant from its source as she could. It was a logical assumption. Something an intelligent person would do, and Erin Kelley was definitely intelligent. She’d graduated high school at fifteen and a half, and finished a degree in education at nineteen. By the time she was twenty-three she had a Master’s degree in education and a string of schools she’d substituted at. Fast forward six years and it brought them to this point.
“I’ve always wanted to go to Niagara Falls,” he said. “Can’t imagine what it would be like to have something like that right in the city. I imagine you’d go every day if you could.”
“Not exactly in the city,” she replied, and a dimple appeared in one cheek as she looked at him with an almost lighthearted look on her face.
“No?” he asked, feigning a boyish innocence combined with blatant geographical ignorance. The kind of person he deplored. “I thought it was only a taxi ride from the city center.”
“Eighty miles southwest. And considering traffic around the city, well, it’s not a relaxing ride. Definitely unaffordable by cab.”
A crash came from the kitchen, the thud of something heavy hitting the floor. Josh schooled himself only to swing around in his chair when instinct would have had him lurching to his feet. Muffled curses and someone shouting, though he couldn’t make out the words as the sound level had dropped, but they had a berating tone. Other diners were watching with animated interest to see who or what might emerge from the kitchen.
Erin was on her feet. Her face was taut, all color gone. She was closer to the edge than he had previously thought.
“Someone’s supper hit the trash,” the British man to their right said with a small laugh.
His gaze swept the room. Everyone else went back to their meals when nothing else happened. Josh kept one eye on Erin and one on the kitchen. He saw the back of the chef and the raised arms. Erin looked stricken, as if she would bolt at any second. He had to treat this seriously, secure the area, a big step in the trajectory of their relationship and gaining the trust he needed.
He placed his hand over hers. “Calamity in the kitchen,” he said. “I’ll go check. I paid my dues in a commercial kitchen as a teenager.”
As he stood, he noticed her knuckles were white and he suspected that she didn’t realize how tightly her hands gripped the edge of the table.
Relief seemed to flood her face even as her gaze flicked to the exit. She was staying on top
of things. Good girl, he thought. Keep your eyes on the exit at all times. But don’t bolt—not yet.
“It’s nothing, I’m sure,” he said. This was the first chance he’d had to place the thought in her head that he could protect her.
It was a big break and a big first step to being Erin Argon’s boyfriend and getting her the hell out of here before everything broke loose.
Chapter Nine
Erin took a deep breath.
The only thing pinning her to the chair was the unwanted attention continuing to stand would draw to herself and, oddly, Josh’s calm reaction. She’d pushed her chair slightly at an angle so she could see both the kitchen and the exit and took a series of deep breaths.
A string of words, what sounded from their inflection like curses of some kind, emanated from the kitchen. As the closest table to the kitchen, she got the benefit of the amplified kitchen noise. The rest of the diners had already lost interest. She leaned on her arms, her hands grasping her elbows, in an attempt to control her chattering nerves. She watched as the chef excitedly waved a wooden spoon and a smaller man said something that was so toned down as to be equally as incomprehensible. Her gaze shifted to Josh, who was in the middle saying something. But now it was difficult to hear. The only thing she knew for sure was that they weren’t speaking English. And she only knew that from catching the odd word. Words she didn’t understand.
She wondered how he knew what was being said and then realized he probably didn’t. But it didn’t matter. His manner was what was getting their attention. She’d noticed that about him, his calm presence that under normal circumstances she would have instinctively trusted. Except she’d learned over these past months to trust no one but Mike, who was now out of contact. She was on her own.
He shrugged as he came back. “Someone’s dinner is going to be a little late. Steak burned. And the rest...” He shrugged. “On the floor.”
“That’s it?” she asked and was relieved that the tremor that had shot through her body since the first inkling of trouble was now silent.
Suspect Witness Page 6