Page 10 of Covert Past

“Then I’ll give you a lift.”

She hesitated. He got the feeling Ellie wasn’t the type of person to accept help from anyone. He’d been there once. Boone certainly understood wanting to do things on your own. It gave you a sense of being in control.

A loud roar of laughter coming from the bar next door had her jumping.

“That would be nice,” she said in a rush. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Boone waited by the door while she shut down the coffeeshop and checked to make sure the back entrance was locked, as Hank requested, before joining him at the door.

“I’m ready.”

Boone stepped out first and waited while she locked the front door. He pointed to his truck and they started walking side by side, he caught a waft of caramel on her breath and . . . something else. Coconut. Perhaps from her shampoo.

“How long have you lived on the island?” she asked while watching each passerby far more closely than normal.

“Not long. Maybe six months.” Boone waited for the inevitable questions that didn’t come. Ellie, of all people, understood there were some secrets that were best left buried.

Chapter Five

“It’s the house at the end of the beach.” Ellie pointed to the small rental she’d found online.

Most of the other homes along this stretch of beach were sprawling and probably cost into the millions. The owner had told her the two-bedroom bungalow had been one of the original ones on Hope Island. He’d had offers from potential buyers but hadn’t wanted to let go of the property that had been in his family for several generations.

“This is Myron Small’s place, isn’t it?” Boone asked as he parked the truck in the driveway.

Ellie turned in her seat. “That’s right.” How would he know this being a short-timer himself?

Boone seemed to pick up on her unanswered question and smiled. “He was the first case I helped with when I joined Hope Island Securities. He wanted assistance tracking down his brother’s grandson. Myron’s an interesting character.”

Though Ellie hadn’t met Myron in person, their conversations had clued her into that truth. Myron lived by his own rules even at eighty-eight. “He is. Were you able to locate the family member?”

Boone didn’t respond. He was staring at the house with a deepening frown.

Ellie whipped toward it, a gasp escaping. The door stood open. Only slightly, but enough to confirm her worst nightmare had come true.

They’d found her. Again.

“I’m guessing you didn’t forget to lock up.” It wasn’t really a question.

Ellie opened the truck’s door, barely aware of Boone telling her to wait.

She registered the closing of his door before he came after her and grabbed her arm. “You can’t go in there.”

She pulled her free and pivoted his way, knowing his reasoning. What Boone didn’t understand was she wanted to catch them. Wanted to use her training in interrogation to find out who killed Daniel.

“I’m calling the police,” Boone said.

“No.” She grabbed his arm. The word came out far too quickly.

His attention homed in on her face, analyzing every tic. “Why not?”

Ellie let him go. She had to think fast. “Because I may have left the door open after all.” It was an out-and-out lie. As much as she’d perfected her skills at protecting herself, she’d gotten rusty at thinking on her feet. Too much time alone. “It’s fine,” she added before he had the chance to respond. “I’m fine. You can go now.”

“Ellie, . . . if you’re in trouble you can tell me.” He waited while she tried to find a way to convince him otherwise. “I can help.” He added to her silence.

“There’s no trouble. As I’ve said, I’m fine. Thanks for the lift.” She crossed her arms and prayed he wouldn’t push.

After a long standoff, Boone threw up his hands. “Alright. You have my number if you need me.”

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