Page 73 of Still See You Everywhere

“Clear enough. So. Tell me about Lea.”

I’d hoped to catch Charlie off guard with the abrupt change in topic. It seems to work, as he blinks at me in confusion.

“Lea? You mean Mac’s ward?”

“Yes.” I study the engineer intently, looking for some hint of his relationship to her, why he’d been so insistent last night he couldn’t leave before she got here.

“What about her?” Charlie asks, expression wary.

“You’ve met her, right?”

“Aye. Super shy. I’ve barely heard her speak.”

“She sticks with MacManus?”

“Mostly stays with the hired help in the owner’s quarters. I’ve fetched a paddleboard for her a time or two. Taken her and Mac out boating. But her attention is always on him, not the rest of us.” Charlie shrugs. “Mac and his entourage are all here today, gone tomorrow. Man has an entire globe to jet about, you know.”

I nod. Charlie’s description of Lea matches what Trudy and Ann had said. MacManus and his crew remain separate from the main base camp. Blow in. Blast out.

“Last night, when I was busy saving your life,” I add pointedly, “you told me you couldn’t leave before she got here. Because she is the key, you just know it. Who were you talking about, Charlie? Why are you really staying on the island?”

He stills mid-rock—only for a microsecond, but enough to make me notice. He tries to cover the blip by raising his mug, blowing on his no-longer-steaming tea.

“Can’t hold a bloke accountable for what he says while his brains are leaking out of his ears,” he defers.

I don’t buy it for a minute. “Where are you from? What city in Australia?”

“No place you’d know.”

“Try me.”

Another staring contest, but this time I can see his pulse pounding at the base of his throat. He’s not as calm as he appears.

“Katoomba.”

“What?”

“Katoomba. Where I passed my tender years. Ninety minutes outside of Sydney and right beautiful if you fancy a visit.”

He’s lying to me. Worse, I can tell he knows that I know that he’s lying. But I have nothing concrete to press him on. Whatever secrets he’s protecting, he’s doing a damn good job of it.

“Did you know the woman in the burial mound?” My last-ditch effort, the only other angle I can think of pursuing. “Or did you think you might?”

“Just went adventuring in the storm,” he states. “Learned a valuable lesson about remembering to take a radio along. Won’t happen again.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Right-o. Just like jawing with me doesn’t get that dirty laundry any closer to clean.” He nods his chin at the linens in my arms in clear dismissal. I don’t want to give up the fight, and I absolutely hate being outplayed. But at the moment, he has me.

“Fine,” I grumble, and just resist motioning with two fingers that I’m keeping my eyes on him.

He grins, looking like the Charlie I met for the very first time. Insult to injury, as it’s clear now that Charlie is a total fake. Him, his accent, his purpose for being here. Forget MacManus’s private lodge or Vaughn’s executive cabin—Charlie’s shack is the one I’m desperate to search.

For now, I straighten from the railing, giving him a last probing stare. Who is this man and are his lies for good or for evil? He could be some kind of international criminal, using this remote outpost to hide from the law. Or maybe he was once wronged in one of MacManus’s various business dealings and is now plotting his revenge?

He could be crazy. He could be dangerous.

Or he could be exactly who he says he is, an engineer who by all accounts has kept this place running with dental floss and chewing gum.

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