I left my number, then asked Charles for the name of the company.
He told me.
"Whose handwriting is this?" I asked, pointing to the Post-it note.
"That's mine, I believe." He reached for it, but I stopped him.
"I'm going to collect this as evidence."
I pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves, grabbed the Post-it note, and held it for him to look at.
He surveyed the note. "It looks like my handwriting. I remember writing that out. But I can't be sure. It does look a little different, to be honest. But I wrote that 2 years ago. Maybe I was in a hurry.”
I gave it to one of the forensic guys and asked them to see if they could pull prints from it.
"What are you thinking?" Sheriff Daniels muttered to me.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and searched for the number to the HVAC company, then showed it to the sheriff.
He frowned.
4
"Ithink somebody rewrote this Post-it note and replaced the number of the HVAC company,” I said to the sheriff. The number was different by a few digits. "Cody makes the call, it goes to another phone number, and the bad guys get their cue to show up. They know the layout of this place, either from someone on the inside or they are a customer," I said. "Probably have a small box here. It gives them an opportunity to get inside, scope the place out, and ask about security without raising suspicion. Someone on the inside hacks the system, or they’ve got somebody really good on the outside," I said in a whisper.
"I want handwriting samples and analysis on every employee, including the manager," Daniels said. "Let's get a list of everybody with a box here, and let's find out who owns the vault that was robbed. I want full background on everybody associated with this facility. I know you’ve got resources. Use them.”
"You got it," I replied.
I hadn’t gone into specifics about my relationship with Isabella, and he knew better than to ask. As the head of the premiere clandestine agency, Isabella was my go-to for intel.
I asked Charles again for a list of clients, but he refused. He wasn’t going to hand it over without a warrant.
We collected handwriting samples and got the names of the other employees. Forensic investigators wrapped up, and we stepped outside to face the press.
Cameras closed in, and reporters shouted questions. The sheriff made a call for witnesses to contact the department.
I declined to comment.
JD and I hopped into the sheriff's patrol car and headed back to the station with him. We filled out after-action reports and kicked around theories about the case.
Afterward, we grabbed our bags and caught a rideshare back to theAvventura. We’d just gotten back into town and hadn’t had a moment to catch our breath.
Teagan had done us a solid while we were in San Montego. We’d taken theAvventurato Miami to avoid the hurricane. She’d flown up there after the storm and hired a crew to sail it back to Coconut Key. Thanks to her, we had a place to come home to.
JD and I hustled down the dock to the superyacht and crossed the passerelle. Teagan had been taking care of the animals, so Buddy and Fluffy weren’t there to greet us.
I unlocked the salon door and slid it open. We stepped aboard, and that sensation of relief washed over me. Home at last.
After dumping my bags in my stateroom, I took a shower, then got dressed. It had been a long adventure, and we were both ready for a break. We wouldn’t get one anytime soon, though. No rest for the weary.
I called Teagan to touch base.
“Are you back?” she said in a relieved voice.
“And thanks to you, I have a place to sleep tonight.”
“You owe me.”
