Page 18 of Dead Girl Running

“If you were not capable, the Di Lucas wouldn’t have left you in charge.”

“Damned with faint praise! Who have you lined up to replace you?”

“You will replace me.”

Kellen was speechless. Then her brain snapped into gear. “Me? I’m to run the resort and be head of security? These are two separate jobs. Two people fill those two separate jobs. One person cannot fill those two separate jobs. Certainly not one person who started one of those jobs today!”

“The resort is almost empty of guests, and, Miss Adams, I wouldn’t leave if I hadn’t assessed you as being competent.”

“Competent!” Kellen almost danced with rage. “I demand you appoint one of your people to take over!”

“That’s not possible. When it comes to staff, I suffer exactly the same problems as Miss Philippi and everyone else at the resort. I cannot hire enough competent, experienced security personnel. None of my subordinates are capable of overseeing the entire operation. You are.”

“You’re not being rational.”

“Miss Adams.” He lowered his voice. “I’m trying to tell you I don’t trust everyone on my own staff. It is very possible my absence will provide some insight into who is causing problems with the resort’s security.”

“Oh.” Her indignation faded…just a little. “You’re setting a trap.”

“Indeed.”

“Who do you expect to catch? What do you believe they’re doing? Are we talking simple theft, or am I facing potential violence?”

“I’m handling the matter and no one will be in danger.”

Her indignation rekindled. “Who’s going to apprehend these untrustworthy members of the staff? You’re not going to be here!”

He acted as if she hadn’t spoken. “Follow me. I’ll acquaint you with the inner workings of security procedures and the resort video room.”

6

After her security tour, Kellen should have grabbed lunch. Instead, aggravated and with a nagging worry about those bones moldering out on the plain, she bundled up and fought through the worsening wind and rain to the maintenance buildings to spend a few minutes with her friends. Or, as she called them, the real people.

The resort had a three-bay garage complete with hydraulic lifts, air compressors, welders, tire storage and enough steel tool cabinets to work on jeeps, ATVs, vans and the old-fashioned tour buses used to convey guests and staff. Maintenance for everything else—heating, air-conditioning, plumbing, electrical—was next door in an equally spacious and well-supplied area. A long table, chairs, benches, stools, vending machines and two small, old refrigerators separated the two trades. All was housed in a structure that mimicked the castle’s architecture and included a loft that overhung the back of the shop with storage for vehicle and operational manuals, light bulbs, Christmas decorations and odd tools they occasionally needed but that were too fragile to leave on the main floor.

Adrian Wright stood at a workbench filling grease guns. He glanced up and gave Kellen a half-assed salute. “Hey, Captain, want to get dirty with me?”

“Hmm.” Kellen pretended to think. “No.”

ADRIAN WRIGHT:

MALE, WHITE, 23, 5’9”, BROWN HAIR, BLUE EYES, BURN-AND-PEEL SKIN. BORN NEW ORLEANS: PICKPOCKET + STREET GANG. ARMY VETERAN, HONORABLE DISCHARGE. GOOD WITH WEAPONS, ENGINES. MOUTHY, BRASH, EDGY. EMPLOYED 49 DAYS. FRIEND. POSSIBLE TROUBLE?

He lifted his greasy hands and wiggled them. “Admit it. You want me. You love me.”

“I do love you,” Kellen said. “Like a disgusting, loud, gross younger brother who deserves to have his head stuck in a toilet and flushed.”

“Sweet talker.”

“Where’s Birdie?”

“She’s getting dressed.” Adrian went back to work. “Someone has to go to the landing strip to pick up guests.”

Kellen called up the schedule in her mind. “Right.” She checked the housekeeping schedule. “Rooms will be ready. Where’s Mitch?”

“He’s not back from taking Leo and Annie to the airstrip.”

“Really,” she said flatly. She checked her device to see when their plane had taken off.

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