Page 31 of Can You Take It?

I shift uncomfortably on the couch. “It's snakewood. The pattern in the splinters is distinct, and the color is quite unique.”

“So, if you needed to get your hands on this wood, where would you find it?”

“Well, it’s not easy to come by. You’d have to know the right people or have a solid connection in the woodworking community.”

Noah narrows his eyes, clearly not buying my vague response. “Do you happen to know someone?”

I tilt my head, giving him a sly smile. “Maybe. Depends on whether or not you can get me out of these cuffs.”

“Or I could just throw you in prison. How about that?”

“You’re no less than the criminals you chase. They threaten to kill, and you threaten to imprison. Same difference.”

He glares at me. “Give me a name.”

I let the silence stretch for a moment, enjoying the power shift. Then I sigh dramatically, rolling my eyes. “Charles Cooper. He’s the guy you’re looking for.”

“You’re sure?”

I shrug nonchalantly. “As sure as I can be, considering my current... circumstances.”

He watches me for a moment, as though weighing whether he should believe me. Finally, he stands up, reaching for his phone. “We’ll see if you’re telling the truth.”

I return to sulking. I know I’ve bought myself some time, but I’ll need more than that to get out of here. I can tell he’s not entirely satisfied with my vague explanation. But he doesn’t press the issue further.

As the afternoon goes on, a reminder pops into my head like a loud alarm. I’ve got a deadline, and pissing off my one reliable client is the last thing I need.

I turn to Noah and mutter under my breath, “I need my phone. I’ve got work to do.”

Noah doesn’t respond immediately. He’s engrossed in the investigation, focused on the pictures and the potential lead I’ve inadvertently given him. But after a moment, he reaches for his phone and makes a call. I can only hear his side of the conversation.

“Richard, she needs her phone. Yes, I’ll keep an eye on her. Right. Understood.”

Noah hangs up and looks at me. “Richard said you can have your phone, but you stay with me. No funny business.”

My head dips in agreement, though I can feel resentment rising, boiling at the boundaries closing in around me. It’s not something I’m used to, and it’s not something I particularly like. But I have no choice in the matter, and that only fuels my frustration.

I find myself fiddling with my phone, drafting emails to my clients about the possible delay in their projects. It’s a headache I didn’t need, but it’s better than losing clients altogether. I try to focus on the task at hand.

To take a break from the email drafts, I start playing a game on my phone. It’s a mindless distraction, something to occupy my thoughts and drown out the frustration. As I dive into thegame, I notice there’s a text communication element, and my phone chimes with a message.

Did I forget to mention this game also helps me hide my connections to the people I’d rather not have linked to me?

“Are you okay?” the message reads.

I glance at Noah, who’s busy working on his laptop, which gives me a free pass to respond without prying eyes. I reply with a simple “Yes,” not wanting to reveal too much.

UNKNOWN: Are they watching you?

Me: Yeah, always.

UNKNOWN: Isn’t it weird that Charles got an inquiry about snakewood from a guy named Noah who also happens to be your watchdog for the day.

Me: I don’t know anything about it.

UNKNOWN: You know how Charles is. He is being paranoid. He thinks someone’s setting him up.

Me: It’s not me! I swear, I have no clue about it.

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