Page 72 of Wild Oblivion

Isabella texted back.[Sorry. I’ve got nothing. He’s covering his tracks well. I’m looking for transactions of equipment and material necessary to construct these types of bombs, but I don’t have anything solid yet. Will keep you in the loop.]

[Thanks.]

A black Lexus SUV pulled up a few minutes later. I hustled outside and climbed into the vehicle. We zipped back to Diver Down, and he dropped me off at the dock.

I walked back to theAvventuraand crossed the passerelle. Buddy waited for me, faithful as ever.

Henrik and JD sat in the salon, watching TV. The news coverage was nonstop. The camera did a good job of capturing the devastation, but it wasn't quite the same.

A shiny aluminum cane rested by the sofa. This wasn’t some cheap drugstore device. It was stylish, sleek, and modern.

“Did Emily bring a cane?” I asked.

“No,” JD said. “I picked it up for him. But he won’t use it.”

Henrik made a face.

“I think it looks good.”

Henrik sneered at him.

“Just a little something in case of emergency.”

Henrik wanted to hang on to his independence. To him, the cane was an admission that time had won.

I climbed up to my stateroom, peeled out of my clothes, and took a shower. The dust and grime swirled down the drain, and the hot water soothed my sore muscles. The blast had felt like getting hit with a wrecking ball.

Afterward, I toweled off and got dressed, then rejoined JD and Henrik in the salon. I was hungry, and they were too. We decided to order pizza. I wasn’t in the mood to go anywhere. I’d had enough adventure for one day.

We kept the evening pretty low-key. I texted back and forth with Isabella a few times, trying to come up with something that could identify this guy.

Emily called later in the evening. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“No. Not at all.”

“I just wanted to apologize for Ashton. He was extremely rude.”

“He’s just concerned.”

“It’s not your fault I was in that building. I’m a big girl. I can make my own decisions.”

“Look, it’s none of my business.”

“I know what you’re going to say.”

“No, you really don’t.”

The douchebag’s voice echoed in the background.

“Listen, I’ve got to go,” she said in a hushed tone. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

She ended the call. It was probably for the best. I didn’t need to get involved in that drama.

A few minutes later, my phone rang with a call on an encrypted app. I didn’t recognize the number. Dread knotted my stomach. I had exceeded my BS limit for the day. I swiped the screen and said, “This is Deputy Wild?”

37

“I’ll get to the point,” the voice said. It was not the bomber. The German accent was unmistakable. “Henrik Strauss has something I want. I have something he wants. I see no reason why we can’t make a simple exchange.”