Chapter 30

“I wantto go to the beach,” Sadie announced she climbed back into Trevor’s truck.

He turned to her, unable to conceal his surprise. “What was that?”

“I know it might seem rash, but I just need to clear my head. That’s the only place I can think to go to do that.”

“Sure. We can go to the beach. The same one as yesterday?”

“Whichever one is closest.”

He put his truck in Drive and took off down the road. The nearest beach wasn’t far, and it was a larger access than the one where he and Sadie normally met.

He drove five minutes down the road before pulling into the lot. A few other vehicles were already there, which wasn’t surprising since it was summertime.

They climbed out, but instead of walking toward the beach, she paused. “I just need to run to the restroom a moment, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

As Sadie disappeared inside the bathroom, Trevor waited outside. He remained on guard just in case anyone suspicious appeared.

A footstep sounded behind him, and he turned, ready to defend himself—and Sadie.

He dropped his arms when he spotted Larchmont standing there wearing khaki shorts and a blue T-shirt—a very un-Larchmont-like outfit. He wouldn’t fit in here in his usual professional clothing, however.

“Where did you come from?” Trevor glanced around, looking for his boss’s car.

It wasn’t in sight.

“That’s not important.” Larchmont’s eyes were obscured by his sunglasses, a fact that matched his aloof tone. “I’ve been trying to catch you alone.”

“Well, you succeeded. Here I am. However, I don’t know when Sadie is going to be out. We shouldn’t be seen together.”

“This is important,” Larchmont said. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here. That man who died?—”

“I know. He was seen arguing with Sadie.”

“He worked for Frederick Moreau.”

“What?” Trevor’s voice lilted higher.

“I don’t know who she’s working for, but I wouldn’t trust anything she says.”

* * *

Sadie wasn’t sneaky.

At least, to the best of her knowledge she wasn’t sneaky.

But as she’d started to leave the restroom, she paused.

Two men were chatting outside.

One of them was Trevor, but she wasn’t sure who the other man was. She didn’t recognize the voice.

Her curiosity got the best of her, and she slipped back inside the restroom.

She went to one of the toilets and stood on top of the seat. A small window stretched above the stall. She peered out of it, determined to see the mystery man Trevor was talking to.

A man with a shock of white hair stood there, speaking in quiet tones to Trevor.

When Sadie saw him, a flash of something hit her, and she nearly fell off the toilet.

She’d seen that man before. But where? When?

In the photos, she realized. The ones she had on the file on her computer in the office.

Then memories began pummeling her.

Memories of following the man. Seeing him meeting with someone.

Someone dangerous.

Seeing him exchange something with that very man.

Sadie couldn’t remember all the details. Had no idea who the man was. What had been exchanged. Who the man was he’d been meeting with.

She only knew he was trouble.

But if Trevor was talking to this man right now . . .

She shook her head, blinking several times trying to clear her thoughts.

She didn’t want to believe Trevor was a bad guy. But she couldn’t deny the facts—not if she was smart.

None of this made sense.

Her thoughts churned.

“He worked for Frederick Moreau,” the stranger said.

Frederick Moreau? Who was Frederick Moreau?

“Getting to know her may not work,” the stranger said. “We may have to use more extreme measures.”

Then silence stretched.

Someone murmured something indecipherable.

Was it Trevor? What was he saying? Was he agreeing? Whispering a plan to take her out?

“You okay in there?” Trevor suddenly yelled toward the bathroom.

Sadie jumped. Her heart pounded so hard into her chest that it nearly ached. “I’m fine. I’ll just be a few more minutes.”

She climbed from the toilet and grabbed her phone.

She did a search for Trevor McGrath, something she probably should have done earlier.

She scanned the results on the screen.

There weren’t many.

She kept looking, but the search for information on Trevor hadn’t led to much, almost like . . . he didn’t exist.

Much like her.

Nausea swirled in her gut.

What kind of trouble had she gotten herself into?