The path up from the cave was steep. Loose shale, uneven footing, handholds worn into the rock face by weather and time. Zach climbed it with the efficiency of long practice, boots finding purchase automatically, hands gripping stone without thought.
At the top, where the path leveled out onto the cliff’s edge, he saw it.
Disturbed gravel. Not much. A small patch near where the cliff dropped away to the ocean below. The stones showed displacement. Recent. Scrape marks suggested something heavy had rested here, then moved.
Zach knelt. Boot print. Partial. The heel and part of the sole pressed into softer dirt beneath the gravel. Size eleven or twelve. Different tread pattern than the prints by the marina. He photographed it.
He scrutinized the area. To his left, a small outcropping of rock. Behind it, caught on a jagged edge, were a few fibers. Dark. Synthetic. Rope, maybe. Or cord. He collected them carefully. Bagged them in a spare evidence pouch he kept in his cargo pocket.
He stood at the cliff’s edge and stared out. The ocean stretched to the horizon, deep blue fading to turquoise near the shore. Perfect visibility. Peaceful. Beautiful, if you cared about that kind of thing. Zach scanned the water. No boats. No movement except waves and seabirds.
He turned to face the resort. From this height, he could see the entire complex. The main buildings clustered in the center. Guest villas scattered along the southern coast. Staff housing to the east. The marina. The beach. The lawn where Emma had been speaking.
All of it clearly visible from here. All of it vulnerable.
The wind picked up, carrying salt spray and the distant sound of construction from the northern expansion zone. Palm trees bent and swayed. A gull cried overhead.
Zach considered the disturbed gravel again. Someone had been here. Recently. Standing where he stood now. Looking at what he did now. Surveilling the resort.
Planning something.
Zach pulled out his phone. Opened his security app. Checked the camera coverage for this section of the island. None. Of course.
He made three decisions in rapid succession: add a camera to cover this position, increase patrol frequency on the northern perimeter, and run background checks on every maintenanceworker who’d been near the marina in the last seventy-two hours.
He took one more look at the resort below. At the people moving between buildings. At Emma’s tiny figure crossing the courtyard toward the administrative wing.
Too warm. Too trusting.
Too exposed.
Zach didn’t believe in coincidences.
Marcus was making a move. Someone was already here.
Chapter 5
Girl Talk
Emma rubbedher temples to alleviate her growing headache. She slumped back and eyed her desk, covered in stacks of personnel files, color-coded staffing charts, and a cup of cold coffee.
The cold coffee was an easy fix.
She got up and traipsed to the coffee station, popping in a decaf pod.
She’d sent Morgan home an hour ago, but here she was, still packing boxes, rearranging files. They were in the middle of moving the HR offices from the welcome center (aka the Marina office) to their permanent quarters in the admin wing of the resort building. They no longer needed to be right at the dock.
She grabbed her fresh mug and returned to her desk, glancing at her watch before smiling. 7 pm—time for her call with Lena.
She propped her tablet against a precarious stack of folders and tapped Lena’s contact. She would either be finishing dinner or three sips into her first glass of wine.
The screen flickered once, and Lena’s face appeared, framed by the warm glow and spectacular artwork on the walls of the Residence. She’d moved in with David a few months ago and hadbeen insanely happy ever since. Her blonde hair was pinned up in a loose twist, and she wore comfy looking shorts and a tee.
“Tell me you have fun news,” Lena jumped in without preamble. “Preferably involving cocktails and zero spreadsheets.”
Emma smiled despite the exhaustion pulling at her shoulders. “I have Word documents. Does that count?”
“Absolutely not.” Lena shifted position, tucking her legs beneath her on the ridiculously comfortable sofa in her living room. “Try again.”
