Chapter 33

33

Paige sank back down on the bed, sketchbook in hand, and checked her watch. Only twenty minutes? It felt like hours had passed.

Sweat trickled down her cheek. She wiped it away, leaving a smudge of dust across her forehead. The cabin's stifling air got thicker with each passing minute.

She'd meticulously combed through her father's closet, finding nothing but moth-eaten shirts and a pair of well-worn boots. She'd even carefully removed and replaced every book on the shelves, checked behind faded pictures on the walls. After tackling the kitchen, Cody was prying up loose floorboards.

Her earlier words echoed mockingly in her head. "Seek, and ye shall find." Well, she was certainly seeking, but finding? That was another matter entirely.

She glanced around the cluttered room, feeling overwhelmed by the seemingly endless hiding spots yet to be explored. The merciless Florida sun streamed through the grimy windows, turning the small cabin into an oven.

Needing to recenter, she opened the sketchbook again, flipping carefully through the desiccated pages.

As she turned another page, a particular sketch caught her eye. It was a detailed drawing of the cabin's interior, but with one crucial difference—the old potbellied stove in the corner of the living area had been rendered with unusual precision. Unlike the loose, carefree style of the other sketches, the stove was drawn with meticulous attention to detail. Even more intriguing, her father had sketched a series of seemingly random numbers along the stove's pipe, disguised as heat waves. Her father had always loved puzzles and riddles.

"I think I know where to look." She traced the sketch with her fingers, her mind racing. The old black stove stood innocuously in the corner of the main room, its rusty surface betraying years of disuse. But in her father's drawing, it was the focal point.

Who even had a stove like this in the tropics?

The numbers along the pipe, cleverly disguised as rising heat waves, danced before her eyes: 3-7-12-9-5. A code? A combination? Her father's birthday was March 7th, but the other numbers didn't fit any pattern she recognized.

Grabbing the book, she jumped up and headed for the main room. "Help me check out this stove. There's something off about it."

Cody dropped his hammer next to a half-raised board and followed her. As they approached the old iron fixture, Paige noticed something she'd missed before. The stove pipe wasn't connected to the ceiling—it stopped short by a couple inches, hidden from casual observation by the room's shadows.

"It's not even hooked up," Cody muttered, running his hand along the pipe's edge. "This whole thing is a prop."

Paige's heart raced. Whatever her father had hidden, it had to be inside this fake stove. But how to open it? Her eyes flicked back to the sketch, to those enigmatic numbers. "I think we need to turn these dials in a specific sequence. My father left us the combination."

She opened the hidden compartment, revealing a faded file folder stuffed with old-school handwritten pages. She lifted it out. Beneath the file lay a rectangular gray case.

"You think?" Cody's breath caressed her cheek as he leaned close.

"It's the right size." Her fingers shook as she pried it gently from the compartment and unzipped the zipper. But her excitement was quickly doused. "Nope."

She held up a small device.

Cody wrinkled his nose. "That's a glucometer. I didn't know your dad was diabetic."

She stared at the blank gray screen. It did look like a glucometer. Kind of. Not that she was overly familiar with the things. Whatever it was, it was the least interesting thing in the cache. She set it on the arm of the couch and opened the file.

Her heart leapt as she recognized schematics. "It's the key to the virus code! If we don't locate the drive, at least we can design an antidote."

Cody's eyes widened as he leaned in to examine the schematics. "Or a Trojan horse virus of our own. The old man really did leave us the key to blowing away the Consortium's prize weapon."

He ran a hand through his hair, his mind clearly racing. "This changes everything. We're not just looking for a needle in a haystack anymore. We've got a map to the entire field. We've got to get this info somewhere secure and start analyzing it immediately."

Paige nodded, her own excitement building. "You're right. We need to ..."

She trailed off, her mind suddenly grasping the significance of the sentence she'd just read.

The sequencer is designed to plug directly into the drive. Then the key needs to be applied.

Her gaze fell back to the small device they'd initially dismissed. "Wait a second." She picked up the glucometer-like object, turning it over in her hands. "My dad wasn't diabetic, that I'm aware. Even if he was, why hide something he'd use daily?"

Cody leaned in for a closer look. "You're right, it's not quite right for a glucometer. The screen's different, and there's no slot for test strips."

While she pored over the device, Cody moved to the salt-stained front windows, his posture tense. "We need to jet soon."

Paige nodded absently, studying the device. A DNA sequencer. That was how she'd activate the key. Her heart froze.

No. He hadn't.

How could her father put her in this position again?

Cody eyed her curiously. "What?"

"We've got it all. My dad left instructions for defeating the virus, and the key to opening the virus drive."

"Why don't you sound excited?"

She glanced up at him. "It's me. I'm the key."

"Again?" Cody looked pained.

"Looks that way." She waggled the small device. "This is a DNA sequencer. Nothing super special about that. I can only think of one reason Dad would have stored it with his notes."

Cody ran a hand through his sandy hair. "Because the drive will have a digital lock that requires a blood sample to open it. Penderson blood."

He blew out a breath. "Oh, man. Sorry, not sorry?" He shook his head. "I mean, I'm glad we have a way to open the drive, once we get it, but I'm sorry all this falls on you again."

"Thanks." She fingered the plastic casing. "The Lord did this for a reason, right?"

Cody grinned faintly. "You're asking me? I'm the newbie, remember?"

Right.

She stuffed the sequencer in her backpack. "I just need a second."

She spread her father's notes on the warped breakfast table, snapping quick photos of every page. The last page caught her attention: a handwritten note. Her father's familiar scrawl made her throat tighten.

Paige, if you're reading this, trust Cody. He sacrificed everything to keep you safe back in college. If he's still alive, you should know he's always loved you. You'd make a great team. Just thought you should know. Love, Dad

She blinked hard, unsure if her father really knew what he was talking about. But a part of her, a part she'd been trying to ignore, wished it were true.

The deep thrum of a motor suddenly cut through the stillness, shattering her reverie.

Cody's urgent voice broke through her thoughts. "We've got company. The old guy from the other island is pulling up to the dock."

Paige's head snapped up, adrenaline surging through her veins. She saw Cody unholster his handgun, his expression grim.

"Let's handle him outside," he said, already moving towards the door.

After shoving the file into her pack, Paige followed. The letter's words echoed in her head, mingling with the sound of approaching footsteps on the creaking dock.