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“Maybe the name on the key chain would’ve told you if Joost hadn’t rubbed it off with his sweaty thumb.”
“I’m not sure about that. Really, when was the last time you ever referred to anyone as Miss? Most people, including Marten, use Ms.”
Joe used Miss a lot, but he probably shouldn’t let Hailey in on that. “Maybe it’s like one of those schools, like Miss Watson’s School for Wayward Boys.”
Hailey punched him in the arm, and he tightened his bicep.
“Is that the one you went to?” She rubbed her knuckles.
“Close to it.” He twisted his lips into a smile. “Are you ready to go home?”
“I’m ready to locate the owner of this key. What do you think Marten left for me?”
“Maybe the retraction of his statement to the CIA regarding Denver’s involvement in the Syria bombing, or whatever it was he was going to tell you at your meeting. Sounds like he had a feeling he’d never make it to the meeting.”
Hailey bit her bottom lip as she put a hand on his arm. “Would you mind coming back to my place with me? Maybe we can figure out this key thing together.”
“I was going to suggest the same thing.” He didn’t mean to scare her to get the invitation, but that seemed to be the effect of his words.
“I’ll order a car.” She dug into her purse and pulled out her phone. “Looks like I missed a call from Agent Porter.”
“Do you want to call him back while we wait for the car?”
“He left a voice mail.” She tapped her phone and listened with the tip of her tongue lodged in the corner of her mouth. She shook her head at him and mouthed, “Nothing.”
When she finished listening to the voice mail, she said, “The police found the stolen car abandoned in San Jose, no prints. Agent Porter put in a request for MI6 to look into the whereabouts of Andrew. That’s all they have. No news on Marten.”
“Are you going to tell Porter about the key Marten left you?”
“No. I have a feeling if I gave the key to him, it would disappear into the black hole of this noninvestigation.” Her eyebrows formed a V over her nose. “Unless you think I should.”
“They don’t know what we know, and they don’t believe what I believe. They’re not going to take it as seriously as I do, but I’m not going to tell you not to contact them with what you have and suspect.”
“Suspect.” She skimmed a hand through her dark hair, somehow making messy look chic. “That’s the key word, isn’t it? I don’t even have the video of Andrew tied to that chair.” She covered her eyes with one hand. “Andrew asked me for help in that video, and I haven’t been able to do a damn thing.”
He put a tentative hand on her back. “That’s not true. Porter just said MI6 is going to track down Andrew. You’re doing everything you can, Hailey.”
“I did try calling him, but there’s no answer and no opportunity to leave a voice mail. I just wish I could do more.”
“You can’t save the world, even with all your father’s money.”
“I can give it a try.” She pointed her phone up the street. “Our car is coming.”
Twenty minutes later the car dropped them off on Pacific Avenue in front of Hailey’s father’s house.
Hailey trod up the stairs ahead of him, her steps heavy. Joe wanted to solve this mystery to clear Major Denver, but now he had another motive—to protect Hailey.
As they turned toward the last few steps to the porch, a woman rose from behind the bushes and raised a hand clutching a gun toward Hailey.
Joe’s reflexes kicked into high gear. He threw himself between Hailey and the dark-haired woman, grabbing the woman’s proffered hand and twisting it behind her back.
As the woman screamed, Hailey yelled behind him, “Joe, stop. That’s Ayala.”
Chapter Seven
Hailey grabbed a handful of Joe’s jacket, trying to pull him off Ayala. Had he gone insane?
He stepped back, releasing his hold on her friend. “God, I’m so sorry. I thought you had a gun in your hand.”
Ayala, her dark eyes wide and glassy, pointed to the rolled-up umbrella she’d dropped to the ground. “I-it’s an umbrella.”
