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“Official?” He broke off a piece of bread from the side of the bowl. “Nah.”
“What do you know about Marten de Becker?” She puckered her lips and blew on a spoonful of soup before sipping it.
Dragging his gaze away from her pouting lips, he said, “I know he had a change of heart about who exactly kidnapped your group.”
“Were you following him?”
“Yes.” He dragged the piece of sourdough through the creamy chowder and popped it in his mouth. “I knew he was here to see you. I’ve been keeping tabs on you, too. All of you.”
“You’ve been following me?” Her eyebrows snapped over her nose.
He didn’t have to follow Hailey Duvall to know who she was—heir, along with her brother, to a fortune made in real estate; philanthropist; do-gooder and blessed with a natural beauty that took his breath away. That last part he’d just discovered tonight.
All the magazine pictures and video couldn’t do justice to the vitality that radiated from her slender body and shone in her eyes. Hailey wouldn’t be one to play tennis and lunch with other socialites. She had an energy about her that made you think she was ready to jump out of her seat and do something important.
“Following you? Not like I was following de Becker. He’s the one who fingered Denver.”
“You’re sure he got on that ferry?” She tucked a lock of dark, glossy hair behind her ear.
“I tracked him from his hotel. I was following the man in the black hat. That man never got off the boat.”
She toyed with her spoon. “I gave his name to a crew member and he phoned it in. Marten de Becker never bought a ticket tonight.”
“He must’ve bought it under a different name.” Joe shrugged. He had his own suspicions about de Becker.
“I told you before, he texted me after the accident on the ferry. Wrote that he changed his mind.”
“Someone has his phone. Probably took it before he pushed Marten overboard.”
Hailey dropped her plastic spoon, and it fell on the ground. “Why would someone kill Marten? Why are you keeping track of us?”
“It all has to do with that kidnapping and what you saw and heard. It has to do with Major Rex Denver.” He pointed to her spoon on the ground. “Do you want another?”
“I’ve lost my appetite.”
“Tell me, Hailey. Why did de Becker want to meet you tonight? And why on a ferry to Alcatraz?”
“I have no idea. I haven’t seen him since the bombing at the refugee camp. He called me out of the blue yesterday. I invited him to dinner, but he insisted on meeting on the ferry.”
“Did he give you any hints about what he wanted?”
“Told me to keep quiet about him and our meeting.” She pushed away her plate and folded her hands on the metal table. “He sounded...strange, secretive. All my instincts told me not to meet him—at least not the way he wanted.”
“Do you always ignore your instincts?”
She crumpled her napkin in her fist and slammed it on the table. “If you’re implying I had any inkling those...terrorists planted a bomb underneath the car for our trip back to the refugee center, you couldn’t be more wrong. None of us believed those men waylaid us for that purpose.”
“I’m not suggesting that.” He held up his hands. “Why would you think they wanted to send a bomb into the refugee camp? But what did you think they wanted when they kidnapped you?”
Her dark eyes flashed, and their fire sent a thrill down his spine. The cool, calm and collected princess had a dangerous side.
He spoke in a soothing tone, wary of setting her off. “I just want to know what you thought, what you all thought. I want to know who first suggested the American with your captors was Major Rex Denver.”
She kept hold of the napkin and began shredding pieces from it. “We were coming back to the refugee camp from a supply center in Pakistan. There were five of us—me, Marten, Andrew Reese, the British journalist, Ayala Khan, who’s one of the nurses at the center, and our guide and translator, Naraj Siddiqi.”
Joe had his doubts about Siddiqi, but he’d keep those to himself right now. “How’d they capture you?”
