Page 29 of Island Rescuer

“Yes, per the standing order. He’s got a team working on possible IDs as well. Trying to find another local camera with better angles.”

Knox didn’t have much confidence that anyone would find something Jenna overlooked.

“The more eyes, the merrier he said,” sliding his arm around Harper’s shoulders. “Can you send me the video from the bar?” He was still thinking about the person who’d jumped in to save Harper during the water rescue. “I’d like to take a look.”

“Me too,” Harper said. “This means there wasn’t a leak in my office, right?”

“Correct,” Jenna confirmed.

“Well, that’s two pieces of good news today,” she said, gracing him with another smile.

“Two?” Jenna perked up. “What was the first?”

“Strudel,” Knox improvised. “Thanks, so much. Talk soon.” Somehow, he ended the call before they started laughing uncontrollably.

* * *

For Harper, the days became a strange mix of moods. She and Knox were, in essence, playing house. Their inside jokes grew over shared meals, random admissions, old stories, and flirting.

Lots of flirting that led to kisses and more heated, intimate embraces though they hadn’t landed in bed yet. How was that possible?

It was only a matter of time, they both understood that. Delaying the inevitable was ramping up her anticipation. His control boggled her mind and still, she appreciated his commitment to taking things slow. She couldn’t recall the last time she enjoyed getting to know a man like this.

So deeply.

So freely.

He didn’t care about her money, he had plenty of his own. He owned a house in Columbia, though he was usually on the road. What he did share about his work revealed a passion she admired and understood. She respected how good he was at the job, not just for her, but for all the agency clients.

When she shared some of her long-range plans, he got excited for her. The confidence boost had been a happy bonus. They talked about family dynamics—the good, the bad, and the therapy that went along with both.

He’d made the comment about her inspiring him to be better, but she was increasingly convinced he was doing the same for her right now.

Through it all there was the work. His and hers. Even with the remote connection, she found her role at the resort to be a grounding point amid the rest of it.

Knox’s work during her case was eye-opening and nothing like she’d imagined. He was at his computer nearly as much as she was. He took calls, checked in with his superiors and apparently, continued to scrub every available video, text, and random detail for an indication of who was behind the threats.

They’d sat in on three official team discussions ahead of the ransom drop. And now that it was done, they were at the kitchen island once more. Gamble, Swann, and Jenna were all on camera this time.

Swann gave a full account of the staged drop in Mount Pleasant. “The person who picked up the bag of fake money wasn’t any help,” he said. “A college kid hired through texts to run the errand for a hundred bucks. We let him finish the job and he handed the bag to a luggage storage service. Our GPS tag went offline there and we’re back to square one.”

“Any ideas?” Knox asked her.

“No.” She felt terrible. “I can’t imagine anyone I know demanding a ransom, much less working out a scheme like this.”

While the others lamented losing the trail and brainstormed solutions, Harper found herself studying Jenna. The woman had strawberry-blonde curls, pale blue eyes framed by chunky eyeglasses in a colorful print, and a sharp chin. She looked too young and innocent to be wielding her tech and research skills with such stunning expertise.

“As you know,” Jenna began, “I’ve been intercepting the text messages before Harper can read them. Since the drop failed, two more have come in. Each uglier than the last. I hate to ask, but maybe Harper can infer something from the messages that didn’t resonate for me and we can get an ID.”

“Of course, I can try.” Under the counter, well out of view, Knox pressed his knee to hers. She appreciated the support now more than ever.

They’d gone through her financials, with her permission and support, for nothing. Same with her business dealings and contracts. She hadn’t reneged or cheated anyone, personally or through resort business. The ransom made no sense.

The only thing that was obvious was the person sending these texts hated her. She swallowed as she read the nasty threats, doing her best to remain objective and detached. It wasn’t easy.

“It feels more personal than ever,” she murmured, scrolling through the messages Jenna had compiled.

“Familiar at all?” Gamble queried.

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