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“We really need someone with your skills on our team,” Taliasaid. It dawned on her that Luke had not said anything about ordering up a new life. Dread clenched her insides. She looked at him. “Are you going to disappear?”
“No,” he said. His eyes heated. “I tried that. Didn’t work. I’m a member of theLost Night Filescrew now. That means I’m going to live by the code.”
Talia smiled. “We’re in this together until we get answers.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
It was justtoo perfect,” Octavia said as she smashed garlic and salt into a paste using a mortar and pestle. “Clive and I fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. We had been running the Unplugged Experience project for nearly four years in various locations. Before that we operated a string of similar projects. We, of all people, should have recognized a con.”
“You said that Gill told you it was a secret government project,” Talia pointed out. “You had no reason to doubt him.”
She was sitting at the long kitchen worktable watching Octavia make parsley and basil pesto the old-fashioned way—no food processor involved. It was after ten in the morning and they were all hoping to be off the island before lunch but Octavia had insisted on starting preparations for the noon meal, just in case. Talia knew she needed to keep herself occupied.
The four of them had spent the night camped out in the lobby. From time to time Talia had heard Luke get up from his bed on the floor to throw another log on the fire. They had all awakened early but there was nothing to be done until the tides changed. An hourago Luke had found a pair of binoculars in the office. He had collected the two emergency flare guns and walked down to the dock to watch for passing vessels.
None of them had slept well. Phoebe was taking a nap on one of the sofas in the main room of the lodge.
“The big red flag was the amount of money Gill promised to pay us for the job,” Octavia said. She tossed a handful of roughly chopped basil into the stone mortar and went back to work grinding the greens into the garlic and salt paste. “Clive saw the project as the score he had been waiting for his whole career. I saw the cash as my ticket to a new life.”
“You may not have the cash, but you will have a new identity, and you’ve got your culinary skills,” Talia said. “You’ll be able to find a position in a good restaurant and make a name for yourself that way.”
“Maybe,” Octavia said. She tossed more chopped herbs into the mortar. “But I’ve been running the con with Clive for so long, I might not be able to handle a real job.”
“There’s something you need to remember,” Talia said. “The Unplugged Experience may have been a con, but there is nothing fake about your talent. The wonderful food you served to your guests was the real deal.”
Octavia paused in the task of smooshing the herbs. Pride and determination sparked in her eyes.
“You’re right,” she said. “You can’t fake good food.”
“That’s better,” Talia said. “You’re a chef. You need to act like the diva you were born to be.”
Octavia smiled faintly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Talia walked outof the kitchen, through the dining room, and into the lobby. The icy tingle of energy came out of nowhere and zapped across her senses with enough energy to make her flinch. Her pulse leaped as if she had just avoided a fall down a staircase. She stopped, caught her breath, and instinctively turned on her heel, searching for the source of the threat.
There was nothing to be seen. Phoebe was still asleep on the sofa, a blanket draped over her. The sound of pots clattering in the kitchen indicated that Octavia was going about the task of preparing the noon meal everyone hoped they would not have to stick around long enough to eat.
Maybe they could pack a picnic lunch to take with them when they were rescued, Talia thought. The very idea of leaving the beautiful pesto behind, uneaten, was depressing. Octavia intended to serve it on hot pasta, but maybe a cold pasta-and-pesto salad would work as a getaway dish.
She took a step forward and halted again when another icy thrill shivered through her.I’m overreacting. My nerves are still on the fritzbecause of all the dead bodies lately and that really bad night down in the lab.
The logic sounded solid, but her intuition wasn’t buying it. She realized she was staring at her overnight bag. It was sitting in the corner next to Luke’s duffel. Octavia’s suitcase was nearby. The clothes and other things they had rounded up for Phoebe were in a fabric sack. They were all ready to leave on a moment’s notice.
She walked slowly across the lobby. The closer she got to her bag, the stronger the vibe. The only thing inside that did not belong to her was the old Bluestone logbook. For some reason it suddenly seemed very important. But why now?
Phoebe stirred and pushed herself upright on the sofa. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Talia said.
Phoebe shoved the blanket aside and stood, stretching her arms overhead. “Is Luke back?”
“Not yet,” Talia said. She did not take her attention off the bag.
“Do you really think he’ll be able to attract the attention of a passing boat?”
“In my experience, if Luke says he’s going to do something, you can safely assume he will do it.”
