Page 17 of The Twilight Theft

A lie of omission, isn’t it, Drew?

She leaned back to take a swig from her bottle, paused, and stared at it. Shook it. Empty? She placed it on the bench between us and grabbed her other, taking a long pull. Once she was done, she stood and tucked that water bottle into her running belt. She bounced on her toes a few times, testing the fit of her shoes. “That’s better!”

Back to her performance, in case anyone was watching.

With a wave, she jogged off, leaving me to the morning noises. Waves. Gulls. Wind in the trees. Joggers, walkers, and children.

I hung up the fake phone call, slipped the phone back into its carrier on my bicep, and stared out at the harbor fading into the ocean. Land jutted into the water at the right and an island sat at the harbor’s mouth to the left, ensuring the waves remained gentle.

Another deep breath.

The park was as much a part of this city as the waterside trails I ran in DC, but there was something different here. More buffer from the cars and buildings, more trees, more something. More water.

I turned to look at the monument, but my gaze landed on the bench. The runner had left her water bottle. As casual as I could make it, I picked up the bottle and shot up from the bench, searching for where she’d gone. Mouth open, as though to call out, ‘You forgot your bottle!’

But she was out of sight, vanishing faster than my leisurely appreciation of the scenery.

I slipped the bottle into the empty slot on my running belt and resumed my run.

Exactly as we’d planned.

Hopefully, the data hidden inside would keep me distracted until I met the Reynolds team at the airport.

Chapter 7

Jayce

Theaftcabinofthe Reynolds jet had four plush leather seats on one side, two across the aisle, and a table which extended the full width of the plane. A sea of tablets littered the surface, vying for space with the folders and printed sheets. Lists, photos, and bios—all required reading.

We’d each reviewed everything independently before boarding. Flight time was collaboration time.

“This one”—Malcolm zoomed in on a photo on the tablet between him and Rav—“has had at least four mistresses I’m aware of.” Malcolm’s work as a PI for the elite along the East Coast came in handy. He recognized half the people who were attending the Tremaine’s gala.

“Can we talk perimeter security?” I stood from my seat, carrying my tablet and stretching my legs. We’d been at cruising altitude for an hour. All the talking and sitting was driving me batty. “The obvious ingress points are the doors to the patio, the balcony off the mezzanine, the elevator, and the emergency stairwell.”

Drew, on the opposite side of the table, watched me as I moved, while everyone else—accustomed to my pacing—focused on the work in front of them. “We’ll have security on those doors.”

“What’s the weather forecast?”

His miserable little face remained pinched, as though answering my questions was an inconvenience. “Rain Friday, but clear on Saturday for the party.”

“That means a steady stream of partygoers heading in and out to the patio all night.” Part of me wanted to sit back down behind the table, so I was invisible.

His gaze didn’t flicker off me for a second.

I tapped a button on the side console of the divan in the mid cabin, which opened a drawer containing—nothing. I’d eaten everything I’d stashed inside. “Plus, I’d bet there’s roof access that’s not listed on the floor plan.”

“Or that access is from connecting buildings,” said Drew. The restaurant venue was part of a larger complex, with shops, a deli, a few professional offices, and a coffee shop. He could have been right. Maintenance would require access to the roof, and more than one part of the building might have provided it.

“We don’t have aerial photos. We should get Brie or Will on that.”

“If you mean by drone,” said Drew, “they’re not allowed in DC. If you mean satellite, that might work.”

I’d meant drone. No need to say that out loud. “Of course I meant satellite.”

“I’ll text Brie.” Emmett pulled out his phone and began typing.

Brie was likely too busy monitoring her precious Trojan—not that we could discuss that with Drew on the flight. She’d probably pass it off to someone else on her team or over to Will if it would be challenging.

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