Page 159 of Our Little Secret

Neal put down his napkin. “Maybe I should—”

“I’ve got this.” Brooke was already pushing away from the table and hurrying up the stairs.

Marilee was already in her room, flopped on the bottom bunk and texting on her phone. “You okay?” Brooke asked.

“As if!” Marilee let out a short huff. “Are you?”

Brooke lifted a shoulder. “Maybe.”

“Liar.” Her phone pinged and she glanced at a text. Her fingers flew over the tiny keyboard. “I’m fine,” she said in a flat tone and finally looked up. “I don’t like that guy,” she admitted.

“Eli.”

Her jaw slid to the side. “Yeah. Eli.” But there was something in her tone that caught Brooke’s attention.

“Do you know anything about him?”

“What? No. Why would I?” Marilee said a little defensively as another text chimed. “Just a feeling. I don’t know.” She was typing again. “And let’s face it, Aunt Leah doesn’t have the greatest taste in men.”

“I won’t argue there.”

“It all seemed so fake. I just had to get away. You know, be alone.” Marilee’s attention was dragged to the phone again and Brooke took the hint and let her be, closing the door softly behind her.

She heard the sound of voices downstairs, of dishes being collected, a flurry of activity. She glanced at the door to the guest room. Ajar. Beckoning. Her chance to find out more.

But she had to work fast. Who knew how long anyone would stay on the lower level?

Noiselessly, she entered the guest room. Inside she looked for Eli’s wallet—not visible on the dresser or nightstands, but his duffel was open beneath the window and she quickly went to it and riffled through its contents. Her heart was thudding as she strained to listen.

Hurry, hurry, hurry!Was that a footstep on the stairs?

Oh crap!

Another thought went through her mind. What if whoever had put the camera in the shower had placed another one somewhere in this room and if that person were Gideon/Eli?

Well, tough.

Too late now.

This was her chance.

She might not get another.

Sorting swiftly through the duffel, she discovered nothing but jeans, socks, boxers, and shirts. Was that faded T-shirt familiar? Were the battered jeans the same ones Gideon had worn? She couldn’t remember, had no idea, and was about to give it up when she saw that the duffel, faded green, had a patch of darker canvas where something that had been sewn on was now obviously missing. An ID patch? For another man? Had she seen this duffel in the cabin of theMedusa?A corner visible in one of the small cabinets where the door had been ajar? She wasn’t sure. She felt along the sides and on the bottom and . . . what? Something hard. In a nearly invisible zippered pocket.

Throat dry, listening for any sound from the hallway, she reached into the zippered area, a false bottom, and found a sheathed hunting knife. She extracted the knife and felt further. Nothing.

Why would he bring the weapon and somehow smuggle it here?

She could think of no good reason.

Again she thought she heard a footstep, so she eased away from the bag.

“Brooke?” Neal was calling to her and he was close.

Damn!

How could she explain herself?