Paula Graves - Secret Intentions

“Shannon and Gideon have been working with Lydia Ross to figure out who might have his copy of the code.” Jesse’s sister Shannon had spent a week with General Ross’s widow almost two months earlier, helping her archive the general’s possessions in anticipation of Lydia’s move away from the private Gulf Coast island that had been in her family for generations.

Shannon’s discovery of the coded journal had been an accident, although Jesse had admitted afterward that he’d sent his sister to Nightshade Island in hope that she’d discover why the three generals were of such interest to the SSU.

“Have they had any luck?” Evie asked.

“Not yet,” Jesse admitted. “There weren’t many people the general trusted. General Harlowe and your father, of course, and his wife. The only other person who seems a likely prospect is Gideon, but he swears the general didn’t give him any sort of code.”

Evie didn’t know the big, quiet ex-Marine very well, but the Coopers seemed to trust him, mostly because he’d helped Shannon escape a trio of SSU mercenaries determined to use her as leverage to get their hands on General Ross’s journal. Formerly the Nightshade Island caretaker, Gideon had been in need of a job, with skills well-suited to Cooper Security. Plus, Shannon Cooper was clearly nuts about him. It hadn’t taken much coaxing to convince Jesse that Gideon would be an asset to the company.

“And Mrs. Ross doesn’t have any idea who else her husband would have trusted with the code?” she asked.

“She says he became suspicious of almost everyone in the weeks before his death. Maybe he knew someone had gotten wind of his investigations. If anyone can figure it out, Shannon can. She’s like a dog with a bone.”

Evie smiled. “I won’t tell her you used that particular description.”

“Thank you.” His return smile was uncharacteristically warm, charming enough to make her stomach turn a couple of flips.

Jesse leaned close to pick up the television remote control, his shoulder brushing against hers. Her heart jumped, and it took most of her control to keep from reacting to his accidental touch.

“They’re repeating your father’s interview.” He clicked the mute button to turn up the volume again.

“She’s gone missing and I have no idea where she is,” her father was saying to the reporter. “She left with a bodyguard after the wedding and failed to show up for the reception. Now the bodyguard has disappeared.”

“Do you think that’s true?” she asked Jesse. “Do you think those men disposed of Wilson’s body?”

“Maybe,” Jesse answered, his gaze fixed on the television as if trying to read her father’s mind.

“General,” the reporter said, “you’re the second retired military commander to make the news in the last three months. As viewers will remember, General Emmett Harlowe, a retired Air Force general, went missing in late August, along with his wife and daughter. All three were safely recovered but remain under protection, their abduction as yet unsolved. Do you believe your daughter’s disappearance could be connected?”

“I’m hoping my daughter is safe somewhere.” Her father gazed directly into the camera. “Evie, if you’re watching, remember how much your mother and I love you.”

“I still don’t understand what he’s doing here,” she admitted aloud.

“He’s talking directly to you,” Jesse answered. “What’s he telling you?”

She frowned, listening to her father’s words more carefully.

“Do you remember that Christmas in Falls Church, when you rode your bicycle up and down Oak Street? You loved that bike, but you had so much trouble learning to ride. Remember?”

She glanced at Jesse, grimacing. “So I was a little klutzy at age six.”

“But you never gave up,” her father continued. “And I don’t want you to give up now. Trust yourself—you know how to find the answers.”

“That seems really specific,” Jesse murmured.

“It does.” She looked at her father’s serious expression, trying to figure out why something about his demeanor seemed off-kilter. “He’s blinking a lot. Like he’s fighting tears. But his eyes are dry.”

Jesse watched for a second as her father looked into the camera, even as the reporter wrapped up the interview. “You’re right.”

“I don’t suppose there’s a recorder connected to that TV?”

“There is, actually. After your father’s interview aired the first time, I set the DVR to record the rest of this cable network’s news shows for the night. I thought we might want to see it again.”

“Can we replay it? I want to watch it again.”

“Sure.” Jesse bent close again, his shoulder brushing hers once more as he pulled a second remote from the coffee-table drawer. He pushed a few buttons and her father’s interview started replaying.

“See the blinks?” she asked. “It’s odd. They seemed almost—”

“Deliberate,” he finished for her.

“You see it, too?”

He nodded, his lips curving slightly. “The wily old leatherneck.”

“What?’

“He’s blinking in Morse code.”

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