The Conspiracy Read online

  “We’re going to find him, okay?”

  She just nodded.

  “Say it.”

  She swallowed. For an instant, her eyes shimmered. “We’re going to find Michael.”

  “That’s right, we are. It might take a little time, but sooner or later we’re going to figure out where he is.”

  Her lips trembled for a moment, then she relaxed back in her seat, the color returning to her cheeks. “Thank you for saying that.”

  “Just keep believing it. Do it for Michael.”

  A soft smile touched her lips, the first he had seen. She sat a little straighter in the seat, her eyes brighter than before. “I need a shower after all that flying. Then I’ll be ready to start our search.”

  “Good idea.” He smiled in return, and at her renewed resolve, felt an odd sense of relief. No matter the animosities of the past, he was going to help Harper find her brother. He wouldn’t give up until he did.

  Chapter Six

  Dutch dropped them off at the hotel with a promise to make himself available twenty-four hours a day for anything they might need. Harper thought the big Dutchman had an air of confidence that would be impossible to fake.

  It didn’t take long for them to get situated. The Renaissance Hotel at the marina wasn’t ridiculously expensive or overly luxurious, but the two-bedroom suite she had booked faced the ocean, with a balcony that ran the length of the living room outside the sliding glass doors. The view of the turquoise sea stretching endlessly in front of her was magnificent.

  Harper showered and changed into a pair of lightweight capri-length khaki pants with embroidered multicolored seashells on the pockets, and an orange-and-white cap-sleeved boatneck T-shirt from the EC collection, her feet in the same comfortable white canvas deck shoes she had put on very early that morning.

  A wide-brimmed straw hat lay on the dining table, sun protection for their trip to the marina, which was a short walk from the hotel. She plucked it up as she walked into the living room.

  Chase wandered in a few minutes later, buttoning a light blue flowered, short-sleeved tropical shirt, his pirate’s-gold hair still damp from the shower. The shirt gaped open and she got a look at his chest, all tanned skin and solid sinew. Lean muscle formed a ladder down his stomach.

  Heat washed over her. Her pulse beat faster. It was ridiculous. Chase had no interest in her, and Harper needed his help, not his sexual attentions. She thanked God he hadn’t noticed her reaction.

  She allowed herself to quietly finish her perusal, her gaze traveling down his long legs. She blinked at the leather boat shoes that had replaced his usual boots. Classy and sophisticated, that was Chase, but now that he was older, there was a dark edge about him, an air of danger Chase hadn’t had as a young man in college.

  She remembered that he had joined the army as soon as he had graduated from Yale—much to his father’s chagrin—signing up for the military police. Bass Garrett had been furious, but Chase had always been his own man. And though she had lost track of him years ago, she didn’t think that had changed.

  She knew a little about Brandon and Reese, had met Bran a couple of times when Michael and Chase were friends, but she hadn’t kept track of the brothers in the years since then. After she’d moved to Dallas, she had read articles in the Morning News about Reese, who was CEO of the family-owned company and a well-known figure in the community.

  “I need to follow up on that GPS tracker you mentioned,” Chase said, returning her thoughts to the moment.

  “Oh, I meant to tell you. After we talked about it yesterday, I remembered Michael had me write down the information about it. With packing and having to get up so early, I forgot.”

  She ran back into the bedroom and dug it out of her suitcase, hurried back into the living room. “‘Iridium 9575 Extreme Satellite Phone GPS Tracking System.’ The phone number is written below.”

  Chase took the note from her hand, pulled out his cell and hit one of his contact buttons. He pressed the phone against his ear.

  “Morning, Tabby, it’s Chase. I need your help.”

  Harper ignored a pang. She wondered which of his lady friends he was calling, couldn’t imagine one of Chase’s usual sophisticated women having a name that sounded like a cat.

  “His name’s Michael Winston,” Chase continued. “He was last seen in Aruba. I need to find him.”

  They talked awhile longer, Chase giving the woman more details, including Michael’s satellite phone information, then finally ending the call.

  “You ready to go?” he asked.

  “Who was that?”

  “Tabitha Love. She’s a computer specialist. Tabby’s a genius at digging up information off the internet.”

  “She works for you?”

  “She works for anyone in the office who needs her help.”

  “So she isn’t one of your girlfriends.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Tabby? No. We have a business relationship. Besides, Tabby has a boyfriend.”

  It was ridiculous to feel relieved. Hat in hand, Harper headed out the door and they took the elevator down to the first floor. The hotel was modern, with rattan and teakwood furniture in the lobby, and turquoise accents the color of the sea.

  This time of year it wouldn’t be long before sunset. As they walked down the sidewalk, a warm, dry breeze toyed with strands of her hair beneath the brim of her wide straw hat. Chase was wearing a straw hat, too, a flat-brimmed panama that made him look way too sexy, and more like a local than a tourist, which she figured was his intent.

  But the hard jaw and dark eyes, the close-cropped, edgy beard along his jaw hinted at the man he had become, one capable of taking on a bar full of dangerous criminals and coming out on top, as he had done to save the teenage girl.

  The marina, a U-shaped enclosure that opened directly into the sea, wasn’t full, but Harper counted forty yachts of various shapes and sizes, mostly sailboats but a few powerboats as well, bobbing at their tethers along the dock. Chase headed for the marina office, a small, flat-roofed, freestanding structure. A bell chimed as he opened the door and led her inside.

  A slightly built, cocoa-skinned man with neatly trimmed black hair slicked back from a high forehead stood behind the counter.

  He smiled, flashing very white teeth. “May I help you?” A name plaque reading Len Wadadli sat on the counter next to a computer screen. Probably an Arawak name or some other indigenous island surname.

  “We’re looking for Michael Winston,” Chase said. “His boat, BUZZ Word, was moored here last week.”

  “Yes, I remember the boat. It was very nice. I handled the paperwork for the mooring.” The little man turned to study the computer screen and began clicking through pages of information. “I was off for a while after the boat arrived. I came back the day it sailed.”

  “How long ago was that?” Chase asked.

  “Four days, counting today.”

  So he had actually been missing only four days. It should have relieved her. But she hadn’t heard from Michael in six days. He wouldn’t have gone that long without contacting her. He was in trouble, or else she would have heard from him.

  “I’m Michael’s sister,” Harper said. “Do you have any idea where my brother might have been going when he sailed?”

  “No, I am sorry. But before he left, he told me he would be back. He said he planned to do some island-hopping. He was not sure how long he would be gone.”

  “Was he alone?” Chase asked.

  “I do not believe so. I remember seeing two people aboard as BUZZ Word sailed out of the harbor.”

  Harper’s worry cranked up. He was with someone. He didn’t have friends in Aruba, so who was it? Her head began to throb, a slight ache forming behind her eyes.

  “Man or woman?” Chase asked.

  “I am sorry. I could not say. I only noticed there were two aboard the yacht as it sailed.”

  “What about the weather?” Chase asked. “Any unexpected storms in the area? Anything that could account for a boat having unforeseen problems?”

  “The weather has been very good. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  Chase gave a brief nod. “Thank you, Len. You’ve been very helpful.”

  They left the marina office, Harper even more convinced the problem wasn’t boat trouble, but in a different way, more worried than she had been before.

  “We need to find out who was with him.” She looked up at Chase, her headache building. She didn’t have them often, but today had been long, tiring and filled with worry she fought not to show. “Mikey was always so trusting. Anything could have happened out there if he was with someone he didn’t know.”

  “You need to stay positive. We have no reason to suspect foul play. Not yet. He may have just sailed off somewhere with someone he met and his communications went out. Now we know he was here four days ago. We’ll know more when we hear from Tabby. Which should be very soon.”

  Chase was right. Michael was an adult, not a reckless kid anymore, and there was no point in worrying until they had more information. Michael had warned her unexpected things could happen. There was nothing foolproof when you went on an adventure like the one he was undertaking.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. Michael told me not to panic if I couldn’t reach him, but—”

  “But you love him and it’s been almost a week. You did the right thing, Harper.”

  She relaxed at his words. “I won’t stop worrying until we find him.”

  “Which we will. Come on.” He reached down and took hold of her hand, and a tingle raced up her arm. Chase must have felt it, too, because he let go.

  “Michael’s a single man, and he came here to enjoy the island,” Chase said. “We’ll start at the hotel, show his photo around.”

  He pulled out a picture she recognized as the one on Michael’s Facebook page. He was standing on the deck of his sailboat in a swimsuit, holding a red plastic cup and laughing. Seeing him so happy made her heart hurt.

  “There are a couple of bars in the hotel—”

  “Michael doesn’t drink.”

  “Doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy meeting people and relaxing. It’s the closest place to the marina to get a soda or something to eat.”

  She shook her head, mad at herself for overreacting. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I guess I’ve been defending him for so long it’s gotten to be a habit.”

  Chase caught her shoulders. “Michael was always a good person. He just took a wrong turn. You don’t have to keep defending him to me. I’m more than willing to forgive whatever transgressions he might have committed. We all make mistakes. At any rate, the person he hurt most was himself.”

  She nodded, though that wasn’t completely true. Michael’s addiction had hurt everyone who had cared about him.

  “Michael would be happy to hear you say that. He missed your friendship terribly. After he got himself straightened out, he wanted to call you. He just couldn’t work up the nerve.”

  Chase made no reply, but something shifted in his features.

  Dusk had settled in by the time they headed back to the hotel, and Chase led her to an outside bar that overlooked the ocean, now just a shiny dark mirror disappearing in the distance.

  “I’d appreciate if you’d follow my lead on this,” Chase said as they walked into a circular, thatch-roofed, open-air structure that looked out over the water. “Getting people to talk, no matter the subject, isn’t always easy.”

  “Of course.”

  She let him help her up onto a bamboo stool in a row in front of a long counter. Around them, people chatted at tables scattered across the floor. A black Aruban man in a short white jacket flashed a silver-toothed smile as he walked up behind the bar to greet them.

  “Welcome to Papagayo’s.” He mopped the counter in front of them with a white terry dish towel. “I am Kosmo. It is my pleasure to serve you. The special of the day is a pineapple piña colada. Would you like to try one?”

  Kosmo had the deepest voice Harper had ever heard. “No, I don’t think—”

  “That sounds great,” Chase said. “We’d love one. We just got in from the States. Long day of flying, you know.”

  “Where in the US are you from?” Kosmo set two piña colada glasses in front of him and began to concoct the drinks with obvious expertise.

  “We’re from Texas,” Chase said.

  “A very long way,” said Kosmo. “I hate air-o-planes.”

  Chase smiled. “Who doesn’t?” He took a breath, making a point of filling his lungs with fresh ocean air. The sound of a steel drum drifted over the hotel grounds. “Sometimes it’s worth it.”

  Kosmo smiled. “Oh, yes, that is true.”

  Though Harper was eager to question the man, Chase waited patiently for the bartender to finish making their drinks and set them on the bar in front of them. The delicious aroma of pineapple and coconut made her stomach rumble, reminding her how long it had been since she had eaten.

  “We’re looking for a friend,” Chase said casually, toying with the straw protruding from his drink. “An American named Michael Winston. He’s the lady’s brother. Anything you could tell us about him would be helpful.”

  Kosmo hesitated, continued to mop the bar as he sized the up the two of them.

  “He was here last week,” Harper added, sipping her drink, which tasted delicious. She began to relax as she hadn’t all day. “He was staying in the marina on a boat called BUZZ Word.”

  Chase slid a folded-up twenty across the bar and drew Michael’s photo out of his shirt pocket. Harper had one in her purse and several more in her suitcase back in the hotel room.

  The big, thick-shouldered bartender took the picture, held it up and studied it, then shook his head.

  “I am sorry. He does not look familiar.” But he turned and called to a waitress. “Perhaps Marty will remember him.”

  Marty walked over, carrying a drink tray on the flat of her hand. She had creamy cocoa skin, was small and very pretty. When her dark eyes landed on Chase, she smiled.

  “How may I help you?” she asked.

  The words sounded no more than friendly, but Harper recognized the interest in Marty’s face as purely feminine.

  “We’re looking for the man in this photo.” Chase showed her the picture. “He was here last week, staying on a boat called BUZZ Word. This lady is his sister. We’re trying to find him.”

  At the news Harper was Michael’s sister and not necessarily Chase’s girlfriend, Marty’s face lit up. “Oh, yes, I remember him. Very handsome. He drank diet sodas. I recall because he liked the little umbrella I put in his glass. He said it made the drink look more festive. He came in several times and always ordered the same thing.”

  Harper’s pulse began to pound.

  “Do you remember if he was with someone?” Chase asked.

  “The first time he was here, he came in by himself. But the next time he came in, he was with a woman. Small, long dark hair. Very beautiful. She came with him the next day, too.”

  “Did he leave with the woman?” Harper asked.

  “I think so but I am not sure. I looked up and their table was empty. I haven’t seen them since.”

  “Thank you, Marty.” Chase tossed a bill onto Marty’s tray and helped Harper down from the barstool.

  “Are you staying at the hotel?” the waitress asked with a smile directed at Chase.

  “For the time being. My name’s Chase Garrett. If you think of anything more that might help us find him, you can reach me by calling the front desk.”

  “Yes, all right. Have a nice day, Chase.”

  Harper felt his hand at her back as he escorted her out of the bar. She wondered if the pretty little waitress interested him as much as he interested her, but whatever he was thinking didn’t show.

  “Let’s go upstairs. I need to get on my computer. Len said Michael was planning to do some island-hopping. Let’s figure out the most likely places he would go.”

  “Yes, good idea.”

  “Len also said the boat sailed with two people. Now we know there’s a good chance he was with a woman.”

  “We don’t know that for sure.”

  “Private investigation is always a matter of guesswork, angel. Lining up the information you’ve collected and making the most logical assumptions. That gives you a working theory. If it doesn’t pan out, you reevaluate, come up with something new. You keep doing it until you get the answers you need.”

  “I see,” Harper said, still reeling from the endearment. Calling her angel probably meant nothing, just something he said to women all the time, or maybe just to blondes.

  She took a calming breath. “So right now, with the information we have so far, it looks like Michael met a woman and may have taken her somewhere with him on the boat.”

  “That’s right. We need to figure out his most likely destinations. And since he isn’t back yet, he may have made more than one stop.”

  Chapter Seven

  Chase set up his laptop on the dining table in the suite, which was roomy and had magnificent views of the ocean.

  “I’m starving,” Harper said. “I’m going to order us something from room service.”

  “Good idea. A sandwich, anything works for me.” He opened the laptop, sat down in one of the dining chairs, brought up Google Maps and typed in Aruba. The island popped up. He located the Renaissance Marina, then zoomed out to study the ocean around them.

  The living room sliders were open, letting in a soft evening breeze. He could hear the ocean lapping against the shore somewhere below. Finished with her phone call, Harper stood behind him to look over his shoulder, eager to get on with their search.

  Chase did his best to ignore her, but as he typed, the faint scent of jasmine drifted over him. His pulse began to pound and his lower body stirred to life. “I could use a little breathing room,” he said gruffly, leaning back in his chair.