Chapter Three

T here was no doubt in Boone's mind he'd met one of his own kind. As a former spy, he knew all the tricks and the traits that were embedded into their very nature. And Ellie—unknown last name—was a spy.

Though her reaction to Fred's old truck backfiring could be related to military PTSD, the lack of giving personal information out while assessing him. The way she'd scanned the coffeehouse as if searching for threats all seemed to confirm his gut reaction.

Outside the Hopeful, several men who appeared to be in their thirties to forties passed by him on the sidewalk. Boone wouldn't have thought anything of it despite their somewhat formal dress for the island if he hadn't caught fragmented strands of the language they spoke. Arabic. Not enough to catch what was said, but enough to have him turning to watch them as they passed by.

All four peered inside but kept going.

The island got all different types of visitors, including many from other countries. Still, Boone couldn't let go of the uneasiness he felt from their presence.

He glanced inside the business once more. Ellie and Hank were talking to Suzanne. Boone stepped closer to the window and retrieved his phone. He waited until he had a clear shot at Ellie and snapped a picture making sure it was a good one before he continued walking.

If the predicted storms hit the coast, Hope Island was in for some dark times ahead and this tranquil setting wasn't going to be the place to be for long. The torrents had already caused some minor flooding. So far, it hadn't reached any of the homes or businesses along the coast, but with more bad weather on the way that might change.

Once, six months earlier, he'd been one of the visitors to Hope Island, never thinking he'd end up calling it home. Since leaving the service, he'd drifted from town to town not fitting in anywhere. Unable to run away from himself. Then, he'd visited Maine. Stayed at a bed and breakfast and heard about a little place called Hope Island. He'd come for a visit and ended up the newest member of the Hope Island Securities Team.

JT Wyatt and the others had taken a chance on him despite his closed-off ways. He'd found his place at last. And, slowly, he was learning to open up to the team. Most understood what he'd gone through, having served in the military themselves. Janine, the only one not ex-military, was former FBI.

He checked the time on his phone. Half an hour until the meeting. Janine had brought him up to speed on the case she'd once spearheaded. A disturbing one that had clearly gotten to Janine as a mother causing her to recuse herself from the case. A little girl named Lizzette had been kidnapped by her father some ten years earlier. The mother was a friend of one of Hope Island Securities' founders, JT. He had worked the case when he'd been on the police force. All leads had dried up. The mother had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars looking for her daughter.

JT had kept in touch with the family through the years. When the mother found out JT ran his own private investigation firm, she'd asked to hire them to get a fresh set of eyes on the kidnapping. JT had taken on the case Pro Bono.

That was the reason Janine had wanted to meet with Boone earlier to make sure he was up to speed on the case. He'd told her yes. He'd read through the police file, spoken to JT personally, and believed himself ready to meet with the client. JT would be there for support, but he wanted a fresh take on the evidence they had.

Boone turned the corner onto the street that housed Hope Island Securities. He brought up the photo of Ellie and zoomed in. They'd never met—he had no doubt—yet there was something about her that screamed she was on the run from something. The implication was chilling. Why would a former spy be on the run unless they were deep undercover. They'd been burned by their agency . . . or they'd betrayed their country.

He stopped in front of the office. Inside, their office manager, Katrina, manned the phones. Bryce Malone, who had been the newbie until Boone came along, had his feet propped up on his desk and was chatting with Eli Warren, who sat perched on the edge of said desk.

Boone smiled. These men were brothers in arms as well as teammates.

He stepped inside. Katrina looked up, smiled and then winked—her usual form of greeting.

Bryce and Eli acknowledged his presence each with a two-finger salute.

"Everyone except for these two are in the conference room," Katrina told him.

In her twenties, Katrina treated everyone like she was their kid sister.

Bryce held up his hands. "Hey, I'm waiting on the age-enhanced software to do its thing."

"And I'm waiting for you." Something in Eli's tone grabbed Boone's attention immediately.

"Anything wrong?" Boone's frown deepened. Since he'd moved to the island, he'd been staying with Eli and his wife, Sashi.

In the past, Sashi had almost died because of her assistance to the US military efforts in Afghanistan. There had been several attempts on her life in recent times. Eli had reason to be concerned.

"I'm not sure." Eli mentioned seeing an alarming number of men that appeared to be of Arab descent on the island. "It could be nothing, but I wanted to run some of the images by you to see if you recognize any of them."

Boone had worked with the CIA during his career as a Navy SEAL and had been part of the team to assess threats to the US from foreign terrorist groups. He had friends in the Agency.

"Send them to me, and I'll reach out to my CIA contacts."

"You got it." Eli confirmed before working his phone. A heartbeat later, Boone's dinged with the incoming images.

"Any updates on the storms predicted?" Boone asked.

Eli shook his head. "On track for later today at some point."

Not the news anyone wanted.

Boone and the two men started for the conference room, where JT and his wife, Rachel, waited along with Declan Thomas, another core member of the team.

"What's the news from the client?" Boone asked before pulling out a chair.

Both Bryce and Eli flanked him.

"She's almost to the bridge. She'll be here soon." JT looked to Bryce. "Do you have the enhancement photos of Lizzette?"

Bryce held up his phone. "They just came through." He connected the phone to the digital projector. Soon, the photos of Lizzette at two when she disappeared appeared on the screen up front followed by what the child would look like now at twelve. This cutting-edge technology was amazing, in Boone's mind.

"There's been no further sightings of the father or child since he picked Lizzette up from daycare all those years ago?" Boone couldn't believe the man had simply disappeared into thin air with his child. Marvin Horton's parents and siblings had been interviewed extensively and cleared of any connection to the kidnapping. Horton's entire life had been torn apart for any connection that might shed some light on the situation. There was none.

"Nothing," JT confirmed. "Wherever he went, he had it planned out in advance. It's as if he simply stopped existing. When someone wants to disappear that bad, they're dangerous."

JT's warning settled around him ominously. Just how dangerous was Marvin Horton? Enough to take out himself and his daughter to keep her from her mother?