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“I followed Marten onto the ferry. He was wearing a black hat with a black-and-white-checkered band around it. He never came off that ferry—at least he didn’t walk off.”
She stepped back from him and twisted her head to the side to take in the mostly empty walkway along where the submarine was docked. Her tongue darted from her mouth and swept across her bottom lip.
Joe took a step up. “Let’s go where it’s crowded. Where you’ll feel safer. I’m not here to scare you.”
She tipped her firm chin toward the stairs, not looking afraid in the least. “You first.”
Holding the plate with two hands, Joe climbed the stairs and stood to the side to wait for Hailey to pass at the top. “I wasn’t kidding about the food. I’m hungry, and this smells great.”
She pointed to one of the fish stands on the street. “I got it there. You take mine and find a table. I’ll get another and join you...unless I decide to make my escape. And if I do and you try to follow me, I’ll call the cops so fast your...red head will spin.”
Joe let out a breath on a smile. “You’re not my captive, but I think you’re gonna want to hear what I have to say. I’ll grab a seat on the patio behind us.”
Hailey spun away from him and dived into the mob of people clustered around the stand.
If she took off and melted into the crowd, he wouldn’t blame her. But something in her sparkling eyes told him the news about de Becker didn’t surprise her. Whether or not she believed his claim about someone tailing her just now remained to be seen.
He kept his gaze pinned on her while she ordered another bowl of chowder. Hailey Duvall would stand out in any crowd—tall, dark and beautiful. She wore her wealth with an easy grace. Even a philistine like him could spot the expensive clothes, the designer leather bag slung casually over one shoulder, the perfect hair and makeup that came only from the best products and pampering.
What the hell had she been doing in Syria?
She got her food and ducked between the tourists. Halfway back to the tables on the patio, her step faltered. Then she met his eyes, squared her shoulders and continued her approach.
Maybe she figured if he were going to harm her, he’d have done it downstairs without such a big audience. Maybe she wanted to find out what had happened to de Becker and why.
He could deliver on that for sure.
As she drew within a few feet of the table, Joe jumped up from his metal chair and pulled one out for her, wiping the seat with a napkin. “You never know about these seagulls out here.”
“Thanks.” She sat down, placing the plate with the bread bowl in front of her. “Where’s the man who was following me? Or was that just a ruse to play the good guy and then hit me with your crazy theory about Marten?”
“It’s not a theory, and you know it, Hailey.”
Her eyes widened. “How do you know my name? Were you part of the military that came to the refugee center...after?”
“No, but I know all about the refugee camp and what happened there.”
She covered her eyes with one hand, the big diamond on one finger flashing in the night. “It was horrible, and we were responsible.”
“No, you weren’t—and neither was Major Denver.”
She split her fingers and peeked at him through the space. “That’s not what Marten said.”
“Was de Becker the only one of your group who identified Denver at that meeting?”
“Meeting?” She picked up her spoon and began stirring her soup as her mouth tightened. “That was no meeting. The other aid workers, our guide and I were all kidnapped. Then they planted a bomb in our car and sent us back to the refugee center—to kill people.”
“Sorry, I used the wrong word.” He touched the back of her smooth hand with his finger—at least that diamond graced her right hand and not her left, not that her marital status meant anything to him one way or the other. “That must’ve been terrible for all of you.”
“Worse for the people who died in the bomb blast.” Hunching her shoulders, she blew on a spoonful of chowder. “So, you know all about me and that...incident. Are you representing the US Army, reaching out to me in some official capacity?”
