His mouth twisted as if he’d hoped she’d object. Was he looking for an argument or a way to throw his weight around? She’d dealt with people like that over the years, and it was best to defuse the situation when possible.
“Okay then.” He moved toward the door. “I’m going to get coffee. Want anything?”
“Not yet, thanks. I had coffee with breakfast this morning. I’ll grab some later. Thanks for showing me the ropes.” She kept her tone light and polite and prayed he’d just leave her alone.
In another moment the door latch clicked, and she glanced back to make sure he was gone. If only her screen didn’t face the room’s entry. She’d need to listen for any approaching footsteps.
She found the footage from Saturday night and set it to running. At first she thought Kyle was right and it showed nothing, but five minutes from the time she’d come home, she saw something move in the shrubbery. She paused the feed and leaned in to study it, then she let it run frame by frame. A figure moved by the tree near the back door. Unfortunately there wasn’t enough light to identify the person, but she watched the dark shadow move toward the front of the house until it vanished from sight.
She advanced the footage to just before ten. Her back door opened, and she watched herself take out the trash. Wait, was that a flash of light? She froze the frame and advanced slowly. A red light off in the bushes had briefly flashed. Maybe that was when her tormentor started the music. She played through several more frames and saw a hooded figure run to her back door and flip off the light, lock the doorknob inside, then shut the door.
What on earth? The figure was dressed all in black, and the hoodie obscured the face.
She copied the short footage over to a flash drive she’d brought. When she got home, she could enhance it and see if she could identify more clues.
While Kyle was gone, she called up the saved security files from around the resort and found the ones starting when Lisbeth arrived. She caught a glimpse of her friend three times in the first hour, and each time she had to blink back tears.
When she heard the doorknob rattle, she switched to another screen before Kyle saw what she was doing. There would be time later for more.
Chapter 8
Aunt Genevieve stood between Torie and the coffee shop.
Torie saw her aunt’s erect figure turn and stride toward her along the gleaming wood floors in the lobby. Coffee could wait. She reversed course and hurried for the ladies’ room, where she leaned against the door for a moment after it closed behind her.
She didn’t think Aunt Genevieve had seen her. She glanced around the restroom, which had been completely redone since she’d lived here. Gleaming copper bowls topped marble counters, and the stalls were sleek stainless walls. The mixture of old and new hit exactly the right note, and Torie knew her aunt had been behind the renovation. She had impeccable taste.
Torie stepped to the mirror and touched her head. Her coronet of braids didn’t have a hair out of place in spite of dashing in here. How long could she hide out in here before someone came in and gave her a suspicious stare?
She had worn jeans today and a pink tee, which looked way too casual to her, but she’d wanted to fit in with IT. Clothes made the woman, and she felt a little powerless in this outfit.
The decisive click of heels on wood came along the corridor, and she inhaled at the familiar staccato. Aunt Genevieve was coming this way. Torie closed her eyes and gulped.
Don’t come in here . . . don’t come in here.
Her plea was in vain when the door opened. Torie blinked, pasted on a smile, then turned toward the door.
Her aunt swept into the restroom, and the door shut soundlessly behind her. Her power suit was dark purple, and every hair was in place. Her gaze raked over Torie’s jeans and pink top, and she sniffed at the shell-pink polish on Torie’s toes. “I thought Kyle had instituted a dress code.”
Torie touched the soft denim on her hips. “Not that I’ve heard. We’re in a dungeon and don’t interact with the guests except by phone.” And Kyle was the last one she could see in a suit.
Her aunt smoothed her perfect blonde bob. “How is your first day going? Any problems?”
What would her aunt say if Torie told her she was working with a guy she could imagine peeping in her bedroom window? “No problems. He told me about the game night.”
“There’s even more news than that, which is why I chased you down. We have six banking executives arriving next week along with a couple of US senators. The structure of the Federal Reserve was hammered out here back in 1910, so it’s appropriate for them to return to discuss changes to the system here. I want it to be enjoyable for them, so I thought we’d do a variation on the usual float hunting the island does in January.”
“Float hunting?” It sounded vaguely familiar, but Torie couldn’t remember exactly what her aunt was referencing.
Genevieve turned toward the mirror and pulled a lipstick out of a drawer, then applied a coat of pink. She took a tissue and blotted before she turned back to face Torie. “It’s a throwback to the glass floats on the nets of fishermen in the nineteenth century. Collecting them was very popular in the 1950s, then fell off when commercial fishermen began to use Styrofoam and plastic ones. The Jekyll Island Authority commissioned glass artisans from all over the country to make floats, and we hide plastic ones in January and February that can be exchanged for the glass ones. Our own Amelia Rogers has agreed to make special floats for our guests to find during a scavenger hunt. Security will need to be very high all through the weekend. If we need to put up extra cameras, I want it done.”
“You’ve spoken to Kyle already?”
“Of course, but I wanted to make sure you realize you’ll be working that weekend with very little rest. I’ve authorized temp help after the officials leave so you and the rest of the staff can take a few days off to rest and recover.”
“I came here to work so I’m fine with the overtime.”
“Excellent news.” Her hazel eyes lingered on Torie’s face. “You remind me of someone, but I can’t put my finger on it. My sister always wore her hair like that so maybe that’s what I’m thinking of.”
A denial sprang to Torie’s lips, but she hated lies. When she hesitated, her aunt shook her head. “No matter. It will come to me. I have to attend to a problem in the dining room. Please come to me with any problems you foresee that weekend.”
“Of course.”
Torie blew out a heavy exhale when her aunt left her alone. That was close. It was only a matter of time before Genevieve figured out who Torie was. Maybe she should confess, but she wanted to poke into things without the doors being slammed in her face. Once her aunt knew the reigning Bergstrom “princess” was on-site, she’d expect her to attend every fund-raising event and every boring tea thrown on the island. She wasn’t ready to be thrust into the spotlight like that. Not yet.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror again and touched her hair. Though her mother had been blonde, Torie wore her hair in the same coronet of loose braids as a way of honoring her mother’s memory. It was elegant, even if a little old-fashioned, but something about being here made her want to take it down and do things differently.