Page 39 of Todd
“I haven’t been feeling well since about an hour after my last massage,” Melinda began, her voice barely above a whisper. “I made it to dinner, but I’ve been nauseous ever since.”
Sadie ushered her toward the room’s single armchair, noting how Melinda’s legs seemed unsteady. “Do you think it was something you ate?” Even as she asked the question, Sadie’s mind was cataloging symptoms.
Melinda shook her head, wincing as if the movement aggravated her discomfort. “No, it wasn’t the food. I think it was something that was in the oils that were used during my massage.”
The words hit Sadie, and she dropped to the edge of her bed, sitting close enough to help if Melinda collapsed but far enough to maintain the illusion of casual conversation. “An allergic reaction to the oils?”
“No.” Melinda’s voice dropped even lower, forcing Sadie to lean forward to catch her words. “My massage therapist said that because I couldn’t swallow the pills, they could give me those supplements in a drink. The last thing I wanted was to take a drink of something I didn’t know was in it. Then she said she could give them transdermally… through the skin.”
The gasp that escaped Sadie’s lips was entirely genuine, irritation flooding through her as she now understood another way they could get the supplements into someone.
Melinda continued, pressing her fingers to her temples as if fighting a headache. “They can use massage oils as a deliverymethod for the supplements if someone can’t ingest them orally.”
Another aspect of Serenity Dunes’s operations became clear. They had numerous ways to get the guests to participate in the brain anti-aging treatments. The realization made her massage experience suddenly feel sinister, as every touch of those skilled hands became suspect.
Melinda wiped at her perspiring brow with the back of her hand, the gesture so vulnerable that it propelled Sadie into action. She hurried to the bathroom, her mind racing as cold water flowed over a washcloth. When she returned, pressing the cool fabric into Melinda’s grateful hands, she forced her voice to remain steady.
“Melinda, did you let the staff know you feel sick?” When Melinda shook her head, Sadie continued, “Why did you come to me instead?”
Melinda pressed the washcloth to her face, closing her eyes as if gathering courage from the momentary relief. When she looked up, her gaze held a desperate intensity that made Sadie’s pulse quicken.
“I’m taking a chance, but you’re the only person I think I can trust. If not, this is all for nothing.”
The words sent a chill through Sadie’s veins, and she leaned forward in interest. “Okay. What do you need me to know?”
“I’m here undercover.”
The admission detonated in the quiet room like a bomb. Sadie’s mind immediately began cycling through federal agencies that might have embedded an operative—FBI, DEA, possibly Homeland Security if they suspected trafficking operations. But even as she cataloged possibilities, something about Melinda’s demeanor didn’t fit the profile of trained law enforcement.
“Who sent you?” The question emerged sharper than intended, her CIA training demanding immediate threat assessment.
“No, you don’t understand. No one sent me. I came because I wanted to.” Melinda’s laugh held no humor, only bitter irony. “You see, I’m a reporter. An investigative reporter.”
Sadie sucked in a hasty breath. A journalist. An untrained civilian who’d walked into what might be a dangerous operation with nothing but curiosity and determination to protect her. The implications made Sadie’s head spin with the idea of exposure, blown covers, or potential casualties if Melinda’s investigation had already attracted attention.
“I want to tell you my story,” Melinda continued, her voice gaining strength. “Someone else needs to know in case something happens to me.”
The temperature in the room seemed to plummet ten degrees. Melinda wasn’t just sick… she was scared. Terrified enough to risk exposing herself to a stranger because she believed her life might be in danger.
Sadie’s mind shifted into crisis mode, every piece of training coalescing into sharp focus. “Okay,” she said, forcing calm into her voice while her thoughts raced ahead to contingencies and escape routes. “But let me go rinse the cloth out for you again.”
She stood with casual grace that belied the urgency coursing through her system, her movements unhurried despite the sirens blaring in her head. In the bathroom, her fingers flew over her phone’s keyboard with practiced efficiency.
Using a camera. Watch and patch me into headquarters. Do not say anything. Another guest just informed me she’s an investigative reporter.
The text disappeared into the encrypted network, carrying with it the weight of a mission that had just become exponentially more complex. She grabbed her camera, disguisedin a makeup case, and positioned it on the marble counter where its lens had an unobstructed view into the bedroom. Whatever Melinda was about to reveal, Todd and the team needed to hear every word. And just to be sure, she twisted the bottom of her lighthouse necklace.
Cold water rushed over the washcloth as Sadie processed the magnitude of what was unfolding. A civilian journalist, potentially drugged against her will, seeking protection from someone she hoped was trustworthy. The irony wasn’t lost on her. Melinda had chosen the one person in Serenity Dunes who might actually be able to help, though the reporter had no way of knowing it.
As she wrung out the cloth, Sadie caught her own reflection in the mirror. Schooling her features, she sucked in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Whatever story Melinda was about to tell, Sadie had a sinking feeling that the mission was about to become far more dangerous than any of them had anticipated.
She held the washcloth in her hand as she walked back to Melinda. Through the hidden camera, Todd would be watching and listening now as the team mobilized in response to her warning. But for the moment, she was alone with a sick, frightened woman who held pieces of a puzzle that might finally explain what had happened to Natalia Benedetto.
And possibly what was planned for them both.
20
Todd’s blood turned cold as Sadie’s message blazed across his screen. His fingers flew over the keyboard with desperate urgency, establishing the connection to LSIMT while his heart hammered against his ribs like a caged animal. The bare hotel room suddenly felt suffocating, separating him from the woman who might be walking into a trap with no backup but her own wits.
