Page 68 of Not the Bodyguard's Princess
“Enough to know we’re going on a photo date. Dog park?”
“That and a selfie in the car should do it.”
As she ran upstairs, Jordan realized she hadn’t been trying to act like anyone else, which was good because only her real self should have Andrew for a boyfriend.
24
For Andrew,the best thing about Claire Lee being on set was that she wasn’t always watching him. In the five days since she’d arrived last Saturday, Andrew had been subjected to a number of stare downs. The second-best thing was that her bodyguards were now allowed on the set. So, for the last three days of filming, he hadn’t spent much time worrying about Jordan when she was at work. Instead, he threw himself into retracing every clue he had access to, hoping to find the source of the threat, which, sadly, was not proving very successful.
The missing blue scarf had not shown up and was added to the police report. Andrew’s conversation with the detective didn’t produce any new information.
Andrew checked the time. Filming should have ended for the day out at the mansion. He had only an hour before Jordan would be back and he could eat dinner with her while answering another one hundred questions about his background for her grandmother. The woman had missed her calling in life. She should have been an FBI interrogator.
As he was combing the internet for anything that might have been missed in connection with Jordan, a news story about the plane wreck found near Kiribati appeared. A special British diving team had been called in. They’d confirmed it was the right model of plane but had no new information.
Jordan and Claire Lee had released a carefully worded statement at a Sunday-afternoon press conference, the tone matching that of similar press releases over the years. They reminded the public that over fifty people, including the pilot and crew, had disappeared that day and that they should be remembering them and others hurting from various tragedies around the world. After the initial shock, Jordan hadn’t mentioned the discovery of the plane.
The Lees had kept a list of the families of the missing. Those on the flight included nurses, doctors, and a crew filming a documentary, including the son of an actor Andrew had never heard of. If the Lees hadn’t been on the plane, it would be largely forgotten to anyone but relatives by now. He found no link between them and the people around Jordan now.
A new set of search terms produced another video of the airport shooting and the aftermath. It was by a local blogger interviewing fans about what happened. It wasn’t the interviewee that caught his attention but the girl in the background signing to her mother.
Andrew picked up the phone. “Alan, I’m sending you a video. There’s a girl in a wheelchair signing to her mom. The angle isn’t great, and the resolution is blurry. Can you enhance it?”
“If I can’t, I’ll see if Colin Ogilvie can. Alex says he was asking for test footage for some new project.” The technological partner of C & O Enterprises often partnered with Hastings Security to develop new safety systems. Since Mr. Ogilive was also a Hastings client, the collaborations which resulted in better security, like the Hastings app, benefited both parities.
“Thanks. Also, if we can identify the girl, it would be helpful.” Finding the signing child would be a long shot, even for Alan.
Andrew disconnected the call and watched the video again.
Someone knocked on his bedroom door.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Jordan leaned against the doorjamb. “I can’t—unless you want to experience Blake’s version of a shotgun wedding.”
Andrew grabbed his computer. “You’re back earlier than I expected.”
“We’re actually late. I even texted you.”
“You did?” Andrew led the way to the living area, where he set the laptop down and checked his phone. He’d missed her text and another one from Alan saying the video was done. “Sorry. I think I found something, and I was concentrating so hard I must have blocked everything out. I want you to watch something.”
Jordan sat down next to him, and Andrew played the video Alan had sent.
“That’s Hannah.”
He stopped the video. “You know her?”
“I met her right before the shooting.”
“Tell me what you think she’s saying to her mom.”
Andrew resumed the video. It was much clearer, but some of Hannah’s frantic signing was still hard to understand.
“Police... wrong man... purple shirt...” Jordan shook her head. “Sorry, I’m not that good, and it’s like she’s signing the same thing over and over.”
Andrew texted Alan the girl’s name. “I would love to talk to her. She seems to have seen something others missed. Maybe because she couldn’t hear the gunshots or the screaming, she didn’t duck and hide.”
“The police probably didn’t have an interpreter when they did their interviews, so they probably didn’t question her either. I wonder if we can find her.” Jordan looked at her vibrating phone. “After dinner. Grandma is wondering where we are.”
