Page 60 of Obscurity
“You have no idea.” He snorted.
“To be honest, it’s not the food, the broken promises, or the accommodations that have me worried. This whole place is starting to feel . . . dangerous.”
Connor glanced around as if to make sure they weren’t being overheard, then leaned closer. “You and me both. I’m starting to think we’re in serious trouble here. The way Brad’s talking, the condition of this place, the fact that people keep . . . disappearing.”
“Disappearing?” Jason played innocent.
Connor frowned. “I haven’t seen Becca yet today. She was supposed to meet with me so she could ask some questions about my experiences as a videographer at these types of things. When she didn’t show up, I checked her tent, and it was empty, but she wasn’t at breakfast.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Olive murmured.
“And with everything Chloe told me before she disappeared . . .” Connor stopped himself, realizing he was about to reveal more than he’d intended.
Her lungs froze. “Chloe told you things before she disappeared? What kind of things?”
Connor’s expression grew even more troubled. “I’m saying too much.”
“But are you?” Olive stepped closer. “If there’s something going on here and people are in danger, then we need to get to the bottom of it—before anyone else ‘disappears.’”
Connor remained quiet for a long moment, his gaze moving between their faces as if trying to assess whether he could trust them. Finally, he seemed to reach a decision.
“Look, I don’t know who you two really are,” he started. “But you seem like you actually care about what’s happening to people here. Most of these folks are just worried about getting their money back.”
Olive’s pulse quickened. How much should they say?
“I’m just a contractor trying to make sure my wife has a good time,” Jason said. “And a concerned citizen and Army vet.”
“Right.” Connor’s expression was skeptical but not hostile. “Look, I don’t care who you are. In fact, maybe it’s better if I don’t know. But if you’re genuinely worried about Chloe and Becca, maybe we need to work together.”
Connor looked around nervously before continuing, his voice dropping even lower. “I might be able to help, but it would mean taking a serious risk.”
Olive’s pulse spiked. “What kind of risk?”
“I have hours of footage from the promotional shoot. Behind-the-scenes stuff, conversations, things that didn’t make it into the final video.” Connor’s hands fidgeted with his camera strap. “I can’t help but wonder if there’s something on those recordings that shows why Chloe got so upset and left. Maybe something that could explain what happened to her.”
Jason leaned forward. “You’d be willing to share that footage?”
“I should absolutelynotshare that footage,” Connor said with a bitter laugh. “I’m sure there’s a clause somewhere in my contract that says I’ll be sued into oblivion if I show itto anyone without authorization. Brad was very specific about confidentiality when he hired me.”
Connor paused, watching as Brad continued working the crowd in the distance, his smile never wavering despite the obvious hostility of his audience.
“But if it means helping Chloe or Becca . . .” Connor’s voice trailed off, then hardened with resolve. “Who cares about the contract? People’s lives are more important than my legal liability.”
“What do you need from us?” Olive asked.
“Discretion. Absolute discretion.” Connor glanced around again, noting the positions of the security team members who were stationed throughout the crowd. “We’ll need to be very careful about this. If Brad or his people find out what I’m showing you . . .”
“We understand,” Jason said. “How do you want to do this?”
Connor appeared to consider their options, weighing risks against potential benefits. “Give me about ten minutes to get back to my tent and set up the equipment. It’s the large blue one on the far side of the camp. Number forty-three on the stakes.”
“Got it,” Jason said.
“Take different routes to get there, and don’t arrive together. Make it look like you’re just wandering around assessing storm damage or something.” Connor’s voice carried the nervous energy of someone who knew he was about to cross a line he couldn’t uncross. “And whatever you do, don’t let anyone see you going into my tent. If we’re being watched—which I’m pretty sure we are—this could get very dangerous very quickly.”
Olive’s chill had nothing to do with the morning air. “Dangerous how?”
Connor’s expression was grim as he looked toward Brad, who was now surrounded by a small group of security personnel who surveyed the crowd.
