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“Your pulse oximeter is a bit like the gurneys at the Lucent Springs Hotel,” she said in a warm voice that suggested she had believed every word of his story. “Useful for confirming our memories, but not the kind of proof we could take to the police.”
That stopped him for a beat. “You said there was a fire. Did the gurneys survive?”
“They were badly charred and twisted, but they were made of metal, so yes, they did survive.”
“Couldn’t you use those as evidence to show to the local police?”
“Turns out the Lucent Springs Hotel once served as a tuberculosis sanatorium, so the authorities wrote them off as vintage relics from the old days.”
“I see. I’d like to hear more about your experience.”
“We should definitely compare notes,” she said, going for an encouraging tone.
“Some other time. Right now we’ve got priorities. Let’s get back to the problem of Phoebe Hatch and the list. You are not going to that island on your own.”
She gave him another sparkly smile. “I am aware that you are not about to let me chase the list on my own. You want it as badly as I do.”
“You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“Neither do you.”
“But at least I bring some practical skills to the table,” he said.
“That annoying little hypnotic thing you do? I’m not sure how useful it will be.”
“You’d be surprised. But I was not referring to my annoying littletalent.” He patted the pack sitting on the bench next to him. “I’ve also got a gun.”
She brightened. “Why didn’t you say so? In that case, maybe it’s not the worst idea in the world for you to accompany me to Night Island. Go ahead and make a reservation for yourself.”
“I’ll get right on that,” he said, his tone making it clear that he had not been waiting for permission.
“Separate cabins,” she added quickly. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she felt the heat rise in her face.
“Separate cabins,” he repeated.
His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he had never even considered sharing a cabin. So why had the possibility occurred to her?
He went to work on his phone. She watched him for a moment, opening her senses a little. The power and heat in the atmosphere around him probably should have alarmed her. Instead, it gave her a little zing of awareness. It wasn’t like any other zing she had experienced, but after brief consideration she decided it was a good zing. On a zing scale of one to ten, it felt like a solid eleven or twelve. She was suddenly glad that she would not be going to Night Island on her own.
He looked up abruptly. She realized she had been gazing at him much too intently.I wasn’t staring. I was just trying to get a read on him. But that was not the whole truth. She wanted more than a read, a lot more. She realized she was intrigued by a man she could not trust, one who was keeping secrets, a man with his own agenda.
“I booked the three-day package,” he said. “Starting tomorrow. The site says we will be picked up at ten a.m. by the private ferry service at a dock a few miles north of Seattle.”
“What are you going to do until then?”
“Find a hotel, take a shower, drink a lot of coffee, and do someresearch. I want to know more about that island and Clive Venner, the guy running the Unplugged Experience. And then I need to get some sleep.”
“I agree that it would be a good idea to get more information before we head for Night Island.” She paused, thinking. “We also need to share the data. Why don’t you go ahead and find that hotel room, take your shower, and then come over to my apartment to do your research? We can work together. No sense duplicating our efforts.”
He appeared, if not actually amused, at least mildly entertained. “You want to keep an eye on me, don’t you? The invitation to work at your place is your not-so-subtle way of making it clear that you don’t trust me to share data.”
“I was just trying to be practical.”
“It’s okay, I haven’t decided if I can trust you, either, so I agree we should work together on the research. Give me your address. With luck I will be able to find a hotel that will let me check in early. When I’m settled I’ll come over to your place.”
She sat back, suddenly uncertain. This was what came of acting on impulse—serious buyer’s remorse. She had just invited a stranger into her home. What was she thinking?
“Allies, remember?” Luke said, as if he had read her mind.
