Gold Chain and Henrik walked to the counter. Knox could hear their voices, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. The tone of their voices made it sound like a mundane conversation. Maybe Gold Chain was an actual customer wanting to rent something. He definitely didn't sound like he was threatening Henrik. And he didn't seem bothered by the fact that he and Allie were shopping a few yards away.
Huh. Wonder what he wants. This might tell us something.
Allie shifted her back to the counter. She was doing a great job looking interested in the kayaks on display. "I can't decide," she said. "Why don't you get us some protein bars over there?" She pointed to a mind-boggling array of protein bars—near the front counter. "Get plenty for our hike tomorrow."
"Yeah, sure." He admired her quick thinking and ambled over to the wall of protein bars. Picking up one that claimed something about a 'cherry flavor explosion', he pretended to read the nutrition label while he listened to Gold Chain's conversation with Henrik.
Henrik was writing something down. "Okay, I can deliver them tomorrow morning. Just write the address—"
"No, I'll pick them up. I have a trailer. What time in the morning?"
"I'll have them gassed up before nine."
Gold Chain pulled a wallet from his back pocket. His linen shirt was untucked, but it was hard to miss the holster underneath, at the small of his back. "Nine is fine. What's the total?"
"Credit card?"
"No. Cash."
Henrik's mouth quirked up. "Good. I hate those credit card fees. I can shave a little off the total if it's cash." He punched some numbers into a calculator and told Gold Chain the amount.
Gold Chain pulled several one-hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and plopped them on the counter. Henrik handed him his change. "Here ya go. I'll have 'em cleaned up, gassed up, and ready for ya by nine."
"I'll be here at nine." He turned to leave.
"Have a nice day," Henrik called after him.
"You as well," Gold Chain said without turning back.
Knox heard the front door close and watched Gold Chain walk by the windows and around the corner before focusing on Henrik. "Did he give you a name?"
Henrik looked confused, then his mouth dropped open. "That's him, isn't it? One of the men who comes to the warehouse? That gold chain . . . I thought that might be him. Is he a criminal? What are you guys, really? FBI? Interpol?" He was way too excited.
"Nothing that interesting," Knox tried to sound dull. "Like we said before, we're just hired security for Alec Drakos." Which wasn't a complete lie. "That guy could be tied to some criminal activity, though. What did he rent?" Knox tried to sound less interested than he was. He didn't need Henrik to shift into full James-Bond mode.
"Oh, yeah. He rented two ATVs. I don't rent as many of them. Some people who camp on the north end of the island—"
"Did he give you a name?"
"Yeah, um . . . He wrote it down here." He looked down at his notepad. "Rafael Drees."
Allie stood next to him with her mouth quirked into one of her thinking expressions. It was a really inappropriate moment to notice how cute that expression was. But his brain went there anyway.
"Could be an alias," she said. "But if it's one he's used before, it could still be useful."
"True." Knox nodded and glanced at the name to note the spelling. "Henrik, we're going to place some trackers on those ATVs." No use in hiding them from Henrik. Placing them and retrieving them would be easier if he knew.
Henrik shook his head. "No. No, you don't—"
"Henrik," Allie said, "we're trying to protect Isadora Island from criminals setting up shop here. Active illegal activity on the island would hurt your business. We're trying to help—"
"No, no, no." Now he was waving his hands to emphasize his point. "You don't understand. It's unnecessary. I already have trackers on them."
"What?" Knox and Allie asked in unison.
"I've been renting equipment to tourists on this island for years. No way am I going to lease an ATV without a way to track it. The tourists leave these things everywhere. They go hiking, get lost, and can't find their way back to the ATV. Or they ride them out to the beach, party too much, wake up somewhere else, and can't remember where they left the ATV." He shrugged. "They're tourists."
He said 'tourist' like they were another species.
