It took only moments to strip out of my disguise and stow it in the file box. I slipped Jeannette’s crystal-case necklace around my neck and tucked it inside the vest, and then I braided my hair and stepped into the ballet flats.
On closer inspection, I realized the water-cooler box wasn’t cardboard at all—it was plywood with a cardboard exterior. The front panel had been left loose. I opened it and contorted myself to fit inside. Had Grace said thirty minutes? This was going to be a test worthy of a circus performer, and I wasn’t that. I pulled the front panel closed.
The murmured conversation in the adjoining room faded. A door opened and closed. In a few moments, Grace and the detective would make their exit. If chaos didn’t follow, I would trust they’d gotten away safely. Minutes ticked away and still, all was quiet. With nothing to distract me, the strain on my knees and ankles held my attention. I wriggled around and counted off the minutes to ease the sensory deprivation.
After what seemed an eternity, the door to the room opened. “It’s in here.” I recognized the receptionist’s voice. The lights flicked on. “It should have been delivered to the Seaside Branch on Blanchford,” she said.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” a male voice responded. A shadow fell across the small crack in the seam of the box. A loud smack on the side of it covered my gasp as the sliver of light disappeared under the man’s fist. He banged up and down the edge of the front panel, closing it tightly. I held my hand against my mouth when the box unexpectedly tilted forward, and swallowed another yelp. Something metallic scraped underneath and the box was righted again. I heard the slap of a strap against the outside and then ratcheting clicks. He was securing the box to a dolly. The box tilted backwards and a squeaking wheel told me we were rolling.
If I were ten years old, this would have been fun. But right now, I was scared out of my wits, barely breathing and hoping like hell the person rolling me away was one of the good guys. The box bumped and swayed and I kept my fist pressed to my mouth.
The ambient sound changed, signalling that we’d made it outside. I heard the whiz of car tires on asphalt, then the mechanical drone and jerk of a lift. “Just a few more stops,” the man’s voice said quietly as he wheeled me inside what I imagined was a delivery truck. Straps slapped the side of the box again, and then I heard the rattle of a rolling door and the clank of its closing, locking me in. Moments later, the vehicle lurched forward. We made two more stops accompanied by the rattle of the rolling door each time.
Finally, the truck came to a stop and the engine quieted. This time when the rolling doors rattled open, I heard James’s voice barking instructions. A wave of relief washed over me. “Emelynn?” he called.
“James. Get me out of here.”
The box shifted. “Keep your hands away from the front panel,” he said. I heard the thump of metal on wood and then the front of the box dropped away. I squinted against the bright daylight. It felt like coming out of a matinee.
James reached in to help me out. My body unfolded with aching protest. “Thanks,” I said, slowly straightening. I could now cross contortionist off my list of potential career choices. “How did it go?”
“They were followed, but not by Manse. Whoever it was will report back to him. Now they sit tight and wait for Manse to show himself.”
“I saw Carrie at the bank.”
“Ron’s there too. Manse won’t get away this time, Em.” Carrie and Ron had terrorized me the night of the Tribunal’s interrogation. Now, they were here to help me. I hadn’t seen that twist coming.
And thinking of twists, I asked James, “Did you hear about the accident?”
“I did. You’re okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Was Carson behind it?”
“Don’t know, but we’ve got to go.”
He took my hand and led me out of the truck, down the length of the loading bays and into a warehouse. A motorcycle leaned on its kickstand at the far end of the barren space. James’s satchel and Grace’s black duffle bag were already secured on the back. “Put these on,” he said, and I donned the dark windbreaker and strapped on the helmet he handed me. He climbed on the bike and kicked it to life then scooted forward motioning me to get on behind him. “Hold on,” he shouted as he hit the gas and we rocketed forward and down a ramp out into the street. He wove comfortably in and out of traffic like he’d been riding all his life. It felt good to hold him.
We pulled into a hangar at Vancouver airport’s south terminal and parked out of sight. When we had our helmets off, I asked if we were taking the Tribunal jet. “No,” James said. “They hired one under another company name.” He helped me out of the Kevlar vest and left it with the helmets on the bike.
We cleared the security check after an agent searched my bag. He then ushered us to a waiting room. Ten minutes later, we were striding across the tarmac to a small private jet. The inside looked like a cross between a board room and a living room. The pilots were already in the cockpit, and one of them came out to greet us. “Mr. Moss,” he said, extending his hand.
“Dave, good to see you.” Dave wore a white short-sleeved shirt with black and gold striped epaulettes and a black tie. “This is Dana Christopher,” James said nodding to me. He’d used the fake name he’d set up for me before my first visit to San Francisco. I swallowed my surprise and extended my hand.
“Dave Ouellette,” he said. “I’ll be your co-pilot today. Are you ready to get under way?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
“Take a seat,” Dave said, sweeping his arm toward the empty cabin. James sat beside me and we buckled up as Dave recited a safety briefing he’d obviously done countless times. He then disappeared into the cockpit advising us he’d radio for clearance.
When he’d left, I pulled out my new passport and shook my head. “Dana?” I quizzed. “You should have warned me, James.”
“It slipped my mind. I’m sorry.”
I suppose I could forgive him that. We’d certainly had enough details to manage in the past seventy-two hours. From the window, I saw a train of luggage carts roll by as the jet moved away from the hangar and taxied out to the runway.
The seats were cream-coloured leather. I counted twelve others in addition to ours. The carbon footprint people would not be impressed.
After we took off, the jet levelled out and the seat belt sign went out. Dave ducked through the cockpit door. “Would you like something to drink?” He made a pot of coffee and set a cheese and fruit plate in front of us before returning to his co-pilot duties.
“How long will we be staying at Cairabrae?” I asked.
“Not we, Emelynn—you. I won’t be staying there.” James released his seat belt and stood.
“Why not?” I asked, though I had my suspicions.
He sighed heavily and moved to the seat facing me, resting his forearms on his knees. “I could tell you that having me off-site adds another layer of security—which is true, but it’s only part of the reason.”
He hung his head and worried his lip. “My relationship with the Reynoldses is not like yours. I’m an employee—someone they order around. You—well, you’re family. I don’t want to be around you in that setting and I don’t want to spend any more time with them than I have to.”
It was a perspective I hadn’t considered. The James I knew was competent and capable, both mentally and physically. The past few days I’d spent with him, watching him in his own element, only confirmed that. Being treated like a lowly minion had to be tough on his ego.
“I’m sorry they treat you like that. I’ll talk to them.”
“Please don’t do that. It wouldn’t change anything. There’s too much history between my family and the Tribunal.”
“It’s not right.”
“It hasn’t been right for a very long time.” He stood up and walked to the back of the cabin.
I gazed out the window at the clouds below. Despite the need for a presence such as the Tribunal, their methods were barbaric. The Tribunal inspired fear, not respect, and the Redeemers inspired worse. But I couldn’t help thinking that the Redeemers very existence was a direct result of the methods the Tribunal used to maintain control. There had to be a better way.
When James returned, he sat opposite me again. If his clenched jaw was any indication, his mood hadn’t lightened. I understood better now why he projected menace like he did; it was deep-seated anger and he wore it like a mask. It was also evident in the set of his shoulders and his gait. The fine lines between his eyebrows and around his mouth told me he’d been angry for a long time.
Such a shame, I thought, glancing at him. He could be handsome. I’d seen his expression soften in unguarded moments and when he was projecting a different persona. His pale blue eyes were striking. He had a perfectly proportioned, straight nose, and strong jaw. Even his lips were nicely shaped when they weren’t pinched.
We passed the time making small talk, both of us careful to avoid conversational bombs like the Tribunal or the fact that we’d slept together—again. Instead, he told me more about his family and his sister, Sandra, and what she was like when she was younger. Theirs was a privileged childhood growing up in New Orleans where his parents indulged both of their children. He refused to expand on his stint in the military, except to give them credit for his wide-ranging skill-set. He’d returned home after Hurricane Katrina to help rebuild New Orleans, using the considerable resources of his family and the political connections of his father’s law firm.
“Enough about me,” he said. He’d told me more about himself today than in all the time I’d known him. It was a welcome change. “How’s your mom doing with this mess?”
“She’s worried about me and sick about the cottage. Emery and Sam are keeping her in the loop as much as they’re able, but I know she feels helpless. I wish I could protect her from all this.” Thinking about my mother reminded me of that other potential problem lurking outside my control: my father’s research. It had slipped between the craters.
“James, do you think you could get access to one of the labs where my mother works?”
“That depends on the security. Why do you ask?”
I told him what I knew of my father’s research, which was next to nothing, and about the annotated journals I’d found. “My mother passed his research and those journals on to Dr. Edgar Stein. His specialty is pediatric pharmacology. It wouldn’t worry me except for something Mason said about my dad’s interest in our eyes—our second lens. It might be nothing, but I’m afraid he might have written down something that he never imagined would see the light of day.”
“When did your mother give Dr. Stein this research?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe a few weeks ago.”
James rubbed his temples. “It’ll be too late, Em. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I can’t undo this.”
“Maybe not, but you can destroy the research. Dr. Stein will never be able to replicate it.”
He exhaled heavily. “I’ll look into his lab’s security. I’ve got contacts in Toronto. We’ll try to get a look at it, okay?”
“Thanks, James.” If anyone could get around security, James could.
By the time Dave told us to refasten our seat belts, we’d picked the cheese tray over and emptied the small-talk bank. We flew into the Sonoma County airport, which was closer to Cairabrae than the airport in San Francisco.
After we cleared customs, we picked up the rental car that Ryan had organized. James drove; he knew the way.
We were out of the small airport town immediately and on a quaint two-lane road in the middle of cow-country. “Where are you staying?” I asked inhaling the fresh scent of clean country air.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Will you let me know when you do?”
He turned to look at me like I’d asked a ridiculous question. “Of course.”
“Don’t look at me like that,” I said with a laugh. “You’re not exactly forthcoming with information, James.”
Hi face lit up with a smile and he chuckled. “I do believe you’ve mentioned that before.” This was the James I wished I saw more often. He reached over and took my hand. It was so unexpected that I looked at our hands as if they belonged to other people. “That’s probably not going to change,” he said. He squeezed my hand, keeping his eyes on the road.
He slowed to pass a cyclist and I glanced at James’s face. He worked his lips, giving me the impression he was struggling to put his thoughts into words. “You were right about me, Em.” He frowned, worrying his mouth again before he spit out the rest of it. “I wouldn’t go so far as to call myself a coward … but I have been running; from my family, from our obligation to the Tribunal, from how I feel about you.” He intertwined his fingers through mine. “I’ve been running my whole life. I don’t know if I can stop, but I’d like to try.”
His words shot through me like hot sparks. Some good—some not. “I’m sorry I called you a coward,” I said. He finally looked at me and rewarded me with another of his rare smiles. He squeezed my hand again then released it and turned his attention back to the road. His revelation made me uneasy. I was happy for the fact that he might stick around, but I hoped he was doing it for himself and not for me. I hadn’t been fooling myself when I’d told James that I had no expectations of him. I no longer harboured illusions that my life would parallel anything close to normal. Molly’s life of marriage and children was as far from my grasp as the moon and stars. I might gaze upon them and even share the night sky, but they weren’t mine to have and hold. And I wasn’t convinced I wanted them, either.
Sonoma County grapevines sprawled across vast acres of hillside in perfectly neat, undulating rows. The closer we got to the coast, the narrower and twistier the road became. Eventually, the grapevines and road shoulders disappeared in favour of grazing sheep, then dense dark forest. Picturesque towns dotted the road as it followed the Russian River to the coast. I knew we were getting close when I caught my first glimpse of the Pacific.
James’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “They won’t like the idea of you and me.” It was a warning. I started to dismiss his concerns, but he cut me off. “Right now, you need their protection, Emelynn. Don’t do anything to alienate them.”
I didn’t challenge James. He knew them better than I did. But it grated on me that our relationship might cause trouble with the Reynoldses. It felt like having my wings clipped and I didn’t like it. Losing my father had forged a fierce independence in me. The steel of it had been tempered in the shock of learning about the gift, the sting of Rupert’s whip, and now, the destruction of the cottage. I valued my independence far too much to let James or the Reynoldses diminish it.
I stared out the car window. Wind-sculpted pine and cypress poked up like errant curls from the bald cliffs. We reached the gates of Cairabrae just after six, and they opened to admit us. “How do they do that?” I asked.
“They’re expecting us but even if they weren’t, there’s a trigger at the turnoff to the driveway that would have signalled our arrival. There’s also a camera in that crest,” he said as we passed the metal gates. The crest artfully split in two, half on either side of the heavy gate.
Before we reached the top of the hill, I spotted a fat-tired, quad-style vehicle parked off-road. James saw it too and answered my unasked question. “They’ve bumped up security.”
The impressive stone facade of Cairabrae came into view as we surmounted the rise in the driveway. It was as beautiful as I remembered. James drove around the fountain and parked under the porte cochère. Ryan swiftly appeared and opened my door. “Emelynn,” he said, offering me his hand. He wore a black T-shirt and slacks, the only thing I’d ever seen him wear.
“Thank you, Ryan. How are you?”
“Well, thanks. James,” he said, greeting James who already had my duffle bag in his hands.
“Ryan,” he replied.
Mason stood in the open doorway, stone-faced and still as the fountain statues. “Mason,” I said, approaching with the caution his demeanour dictated. He was dressed in jeans and a sweater. He didn’t move until I was close, and then he pulled me into a tight embrace, surprising the hell out of me.
“You’re all right?” He asked, finally releasing me to search my face. I smiled in reassurance and the tension eased from his brow.
“I’m fine. James took good care of me,” I said and the mention of James’s name put the crease back into Mason’s forehead.
Mason turned a begrudging eye to James. “James,” Mason said, barely acknowledging his presence.
“Mason,” James said, with his hands on his hips.
The pair of them were acting like feral dogs, curling their lips and showing their teeth. The tension was thick between them. James had told me he’d only met Mason a few times. How had the animosity built up so quickly?
A man I didn’t know stood inside the door. He wore the black uniform that told me he was security. They didn’t introduce him. All four of us swept into the house and followed Mason to the left of the grand staircase, toward Stuart’s office. Mason rapped twice and opened the door.
We entered the room under the watchful gaze of the glass-eyed animals. Stuart stepped out from behind his desk. His cowboy boots echoed off the hard floor. He approached quickly with a look of relief on his face and, just like his son, he pulled me into an embrace. “It is good to see you, Emelynn. You had us worried.” He held me at arm’s length and squeezed my shoulders. His wide smile morphed under furrowed brows into sympathy. “I’m so sorry about your house.”
“Thank you,” I replied to his heartfelt words. Ryan stayed in the hall and closed the door softly behind us.
“Come,” Stuart said, tugging at my elbow. He wore work jeans and a plaid shirt.
“Stuart, I’m not sure you’ve met James,” I said. Stuart turned to acknowledge James. “Stuart Reynolds, this is James Moss.” He offered James his hand—more than Mason had managed to do.
“Pleased to meet you, James. I’ve heard a lot about you.” James’s look was unreadable as he shook Stuart’s hand and nodded once.
I let Stuart lead me to a chair at the conference table. He wasn’t aware that I’d been in this room before. It was the first night I’d ghosted under the power of my own crystal. That night the curtains concealed the view, but now I stared in awe through the floor-to-ceiling glass panels. The panoramic backdrop took in the pool and gardens, and the pastures all the way to the fence and outbuildings beyond. “Please, sit.” Stuart motioned, inviting everyone to take a seat.
Stuart and Mason took turns peppering me with questions about the night of the fire and the shooting at Emery’s house. They mirrored one another, sitting on the edge of their seats and leaning forward with their forearms across their knees. It was clear from their questions that James had already filled them in on most of it. When they were finished, Stuart stood. “Can I offer you a drink, James?”
“No, thank you,” he said.
“Emelynn?”
“Not right now,” I replied.
“Well, I could use one,” he said. “Mason?”
“Sure,” Mason replied. Stuart excused himself and picked up the phone on his desk and placed the order. Stuart dialled another number and started a conversation with someone else.
“What’s the latest from Vancouver?” Mason asked James.
“I’ll find out. May I?” James asked with his phone in hand, motioning toward the door in the wall of windows to the backyard.
“Go ahead,” Mason said. James closed the door behind him and dialled while he walked away. I couldn’t hear him, but I could see him gesturing beyond the windows.
Mason turned his attention to me. “Debbie went shopping for some clothes and toiletries for you. She’s put them in Jolene’s room, but I’m sure there’ll be other things you need. Just let us know.”
I held up my hand, “Mason, stop. You’re on a far different budget than me, and I already owe you for the phone and computer. Please, no more.”
“Nonsense,” he said, dismissing my concerns with a flick of his wrist. “You forget whose fault it is that Carson Manse was allowed to keep breathing,” he said as Stuart returned to the table.
“It’s to our shame that he fooled us and pulled this off,” Stuart said. “We can’t replace what you lost, but we’ll make amends, Emelynn, mark my words.”
“You’ve done enough. Thank you.”
There was a rap at the door and Ryan admitted Phillip, who balanced two drinks on a tray. They looked like martinis. “Emelynn,” he said greeting me with a nod and a smile.
“Hello, Phillip,” I said. He placed Mason’s drink on a napkin in front of him, and stepped around me to deliver the second drink to Stuart. Phillip left without another word.
I saw James through the window tucking his phone away as he reached for the door. “Jordan and Grace Shipley are still holed up in the safe house,” he said, closing the door behind him. “Manse hasn’t shown his face yet, but they’re monitoring the drive-by traffic.”
“What’s the plan?” Mason asked.
“It hasn’t changed,” James said, coming to stand beside the table. “If Manse doesn’t show himself, they’ll return to Emelynn’s cottage and try to draw him out. Where are Ron and Carrie?”
“They followed the police to the safe house,” Stuart said. “They’re close by.” That must have been what Stuart had been on the phone about.
I asked Stuart, “What are your plans for Ron and Carrie?”
“They’ll fix our grievous error.” Stuart said it casually, like they’d provide a refund or replace a faulty product. It sent a chill through me.
On the heels of that, he asked James if he would stay for dinner. I almost laughed. We’ll kill him, naturally, and would you like to stay for dinner? The absurdity of my life knew no bounds.
“No, but thank you,” James said. “I would, however, like to discuss Emelynn’s security.” He’d addressed the question to Stuart, but it was Mason who reacted. I didn’t need to see him to feel his back go up. The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees.
“That won’t be necessary, James. Ryan will take over from here. You can report in with updates from Vancouver—”
“Mason,” I said, cutting in. “I’m sure Ryan is very capable, but I’d like James to be involved, too.” Mason turned storm-darkened eyes on me. I put my hand on his forearm and looked him in the eye. Mason’s ability to frighten me was long gone despite the damage I knew he was capable of. “James is my friend. I trust him. He’s been there for me since the night I met you.” It was a gentle reminder, but Mason needed to hear it. Mason started to object, but I stopped him. “No. He’s the one who’s kept me safe so far. I need him.”
Mason rearranged his features and sat back in his chair, studying me. “All right. If it’s what you want; if it’ll make you feel safer.” He turned to James with cool detachment. “I’ll ask Ryan to brief you. Do you need quarters?”
“No. I’ll stay off-site, but thank you,” James said with a detachment equal to Mason’s. God help us, I thought.
Mason stood and addressed me. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Eight?” I asked, quoting the dinner hour I remembered.
Stuart answered. “Yes.”
“James, I’ll call you later,” I said. James had already turned to follow Mason out of the room.
When the door closed behind them, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was premature.
“Are you involved with James?” Stuart asked, taking Mason’s vacated seat in front of me. His frankness took me by surprise.
I raised my eyebrows. “He’s a friend.”
“Just a friend?”
“A friend,” I repeated, hoping the lie wasn’t written on my face.
A slow grin spread on his face. “All right.” He stood. “I’m going to spend some time with Jeannette. Will you make yourself at home?”
“I will,” I said, standing. “I’ll head up to Jolene’s room and dress for dinner.”
“Your room,” he said, looking me steadily in the eyes. “I’ll walk with you.” He offered his elbow and walked me down the hall and up the stairs. We parted ways at the top of the curved staircase. He headed through the double door straight ahead and I turned left to my room.
I opened the door and stepped inside. My duffle bag sat on the floor inside the door. I picked it up and carried it past the sitting room through the doors to the bedroom and dropped it on the bed. The room looked unchanged from a week ago and yet, in that short span of time, my life had been rewritten.
I stepped out onto the balcony. It was dusk, that magical time of night when my night vision kicked in. The evening breeze was cool and I breathed deeply of the fragrant air that carried the tang of the sea. In the distance, around the big barn and outbuildings beyond the fence, I spotted activity. Perhaps more evidence of the increased security. The day’s events had drained me and I stifled a yawn. It was close to eight and I needed to change for dinner. Reluctantly, I went back inside. Jolene’s closet had proved fruitful before; I was sure I could find something suitable.
At first glance, I didn’t notice. But as I flipped through hangers, the flash of dangling tags caught my attention. These clothes were new, and they were my size—not Jolene’s. Jolene’s clothes were gone, as were her size-five shoes. In their place, I counted four pairs of shoes in size eight. I pulled the closest drawer open and found a neat row of pretty bras and panties, all with tags. Sports bras and socks filled another drawer, and a stack of brand new yoga pants and shirts were neatly folded on the shelves. Jeans, slacks, capris and all manner of shirts lined the closet. All in my size. This was Mason’s idea of a few clothes? It was beyond over the top. I dressed simply in slacks and a blouse, leaving a small pile of tags behind.
I bumped into Mason at the bottom of the stairs. “Thank you. The clothes are perfect.”
“I’m glad you approve,” he said, taking my elbow. “Shall we?” He too had changed; he now wore a linen shirt and dark slacks. He led me down the three steps into the living room.
Stuart stood looking out the doors and turned when he heard us. “Emelynn,” he said, sliding a smile into place that didn’t quite hide the worry in his eyes. “Are you finding everything you need?”
“Yes, thank you. You’ve both been very generous.”
“It’s the least we could do. Would you like a glass of wine?” he asked, reaching for an open bottle on a nearby table.
“Thank you, yes,” I said, but he was already pouring.
He stopped short of handing me a glass, his gaze locked on my neckline. Reflexively, I reached for Jeannette’s crystal case. The sight of me wearing it had caught him off guard, but then his face lit up with a genuine smile—one that took in his eyes. “That looks good on you,” he said, finally handing me my glass. “I’m glad you’re here.”
I sighed with relief and tapped my glass against his. Mason joined us. “Cheers,” I said.
Before Phillip called us to the dining room, Mason told me about the beefed-up security. Additional guards were roaming the property’s perimeter and every outbuilding. Ryan was overseeing it and reporting directly to Mason. Debbie monitored the security inside the house. And it wasn’t just the Reynoldses who had increased security. All of the Tribunal families had either gone into hiding or put similar measures in place. The substantial cost of that effort exposed a level of wealth within the Tribunal that I was only beginning to understand.
Once seated in the dining room with a beet and fennel salad in front of us, Stuart asked Mason for an update on the Vancouver situation.
“Nothing yet,” Mason replied.
“Do you think Carson has figured out it’s not me in that house?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Hard to say. It’s not been that long.”
I stabbed at my salad.
Stuart interrupted my thoughts. “Don’t waste your time trying to figure out Carson Manse. He’s a psychopath; he doesn’t think like the rest of us.”
“Psychopath? That’s putting it kindly,” I said behind a weak smile. He might be a psychopath, but he wasn’t stupid. God help us if he figured out I wasn’t there and came looking for me. I put that thought from my mind.
Stuart shook his head. “Psychopath or not, he’d need a tank to get anywhere near this house with the increased security.”
I smiled at his reassurances. They’d done all they could. All we could do now was wait. Stuart’s conversation about the syndicate that owned some of the horses washed over me as we ate a prime-rib dinner with roasted potatoes, pearl onions and baby carrots. I declined dessert, feeling the pull of sleep after what had been a very long day.
It was 9:30 when I finally excused myself and headed back to Jolene’s … my room. I stripped off the new clothes and carefully put them away. It took but a minute to find the pyjama cache. I chose a soft cotton nightie, used the bathroom, then crawled into bed and dialled James.
“Hey,” he answered. “Are you settling in?”
“As well as I can. How about you? Did you find a place to stay?”
“I’m at a surfer motel just north of Bodega Bay. It’s low key, about a twenty-minute drive away.”
“How’d it go with Ryan?”
“Good. Mason briefed him on Manse. He knows what he’s dealing with. He can handle himself.”
“He’s a Flier, right?” My lack of experience had me stymied; I still couldn’t tell.
“All the security detail are. You didn’t know?”
“No one said and I felt foolish asking. They hide it well.”
“They’re not all Fliers. The cook isn’t and neither is Jeannette’s nurse. Phillip is, but not the cleaning staff or the gardeners.” That explained why Phillip always wore black.
“Good to know. Will I see you tomorrow?”
“I’ll be there at eight to brief Mason, but I’ll call you if anything important comes up.”
“Speaking of Mason, why was he so opposed to your involvement in security? Does he not know what you do for a living?”
He chuckled. “No. He does know what I do. That’s precisely why he didn’t want me involved. He doesn’t want me learning the ins and outs of their security protocols. He only agreed because of you, and I can guarantee that he’s already planning how to alter their systems after this is over. He wouldn’t want me to have the keys to their castle.”
“Is that why you thought they wouldn’t like the idea of you and me?”
“It’s one of the reasons. The other is they won’t want someone they consider family to be involved with someone they consider the help.”
“You’re hardly the help. But don’t worry. I have no intention of ruffling any feathers unnecessarily.” I said good night and turned out the lamp. Sleep claimed me swiftly.