Page 524 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
Sammi shakes his head but he’s grinning from ear to ear.
I take two hot chocolates from Sammi and balance them on the tug’s wide rail. I crack open the cup marked with an O for oat milk and test the temperature. Just right. I put the lid back on and offer it to my little.
She wriggles back against me as we sip the hot chocolate and the island gets closer. As the ferry nears, a man and a womanwalk down the dock. They’re just wearing sweaters and jeans, so it must be warmer inside the buildings. Jack said the old prison had been fully renovated, but I can’t see a source of power or heat on the island. Maybe they have a generator somewhere.
The man ties up the ferry to the dock while the dark-haired, dark-skinned woman opens the gate in the ferry’s rail and beckons to the eight passengers.
“Welcome to Spin Island,” she greets us. “Vic and I are so excited to host your party.”
Jack shakes her hand before he steps off onto the dock. He’s carrying two duffel bags while Sammi has a backpack. I grab the handle of the suitcase I’ve brought and wheel it off after us as I help Cynnie navigate the step down to the dock.
Bravo and his little, Yumiko, follow us, dragging their own bags. Bravo’s friend, Henry, and her little, Leda, round out our group. Henry and Leda just have one small bag between them, so I guess they’re not joining us in dressing for the hunt.
Or maybe their costumes are really small.
The woman who has greeted us introduces herself as Ora and tells us a little about the history of Spin Island as we follow her up an ice-crusted path to the buildings. Unlike Hart Island to the north, she assures us, Spin Island has never been used for burials, in large part because the island’s substrate is limestone so graves dug on the island flood.
The island was used as a prison during World War II, and the two central, gray stone buildings are what remain of the prison. Brick wings have been added to the original structure. Ora tells us the brick buildings are closed off for staff and storage. The indoor maze we’ll be hunting in is on the ground floor of the connected stone buildings.
She leads us into the largest of the buildings. They must have a generator, because the inside is comfortably warm. I park ourluggage to one side of the entry hallways and help Cynnie out of her parka so she doesn’t get overheated.
Ora explains that past the entryway there are security rooms where we’ll change before entering the maze. The maze itself has been created by knocking through the prisoner’s cells. While the maze is monitored by CCTV for children’s parties, we’ve bought an adult package so their monitoring and recording equipment is all turned off. However, Ora tells us, there are mechanical panic buttons in every room and all the hallways. She points out a large red button on a nearby wall.
I catch Jack’s eye and nod, pleased with the security. Although I don’t want our play to be recorded—and I brought an electromagnet pulse device, just to make sure—I want there to be a failsafe in the event someone gets injured or lost.
Jack’s tucked his boy against him, back to chest, and is nuzzling Sammi’s hair, which is the most open affection I’ve seen Jack give Sammi. I don’t have any doubt Jack loves his little. But Jack’s a stern daddy, much sterner than I could be with Cynnie. So this display of cuddles is a first. I wonder if that’s because Jack’s out of his comfort zone, or because Sammi is.
Ora shows us the other safety feature: LED strip lighting along the floor and ceiling. The strips are currently dark, but Ora explains that at the end of the three hours we’ve reserved, or if there’s an emergency and we need to evacuate the maze, the strip lighting will come on. We only need to follow it to get back to the security room and the exit.
Reassured that this place is safe for my little, I smile at Ora. Cynnie’s a native New Yorker, and an experienced little. She knows how to gauge a situation and pitch her littleness accordingly. But I don’t want her to have to. I want her to be able to completely submerge herself in our play. That means creating a space where her safety is always assured. As much as I want her in my sights 24/7, I’ve realized in our time together that’s notrealistic. There are moments when we’ll be separated, and I need to make sure she’s as safe during those times as she is when she’s in my arms.
Logan said to me once that the whole world is unsafe for littles. I didn’t understand him then; I do now.
Ora leads us into the old security rooms, points out the bathrooms and a kitchenette where there’s bottled water available. She opens the doors into the maze and after asking if we have any questions, leaves us to our hunt.
I turn a predatory smile on my bumble. “Ready, baby?”
She plants her fists on her hips. Here comes the sass. “I’z born ready.”
“Uh, huh, we’ll see.” I crack open our luggage and take out what looks like a hard-shell briefcase. “Phones in here, everyone.”
I told Jack about my electromagnetic plans. He told Bravo, who immediately called me and demanded a “anti-surveillance ray gun” of his own. Bravo told Henry, I assume, because she pulls out two smart phones and pops them in the case without a flicker of hesitation in her cool, gray eyes.
I seal the box. Pulling out a burner phone, I wait a minute until my phone inside the box sends a scheduled text message. I wait another minute in case the signal’s poor out here on the island. When the burner doesn’t ping, I turn it off. It’ll still get fried by the EM pulse but I might be able to use it for something in the future.
“No other electronics?” I ask, just to double-check. “Smart watches? Anything that uses Bluetooth?”
Everyone shakes their heads. I nod with satisfaction and put the case away. When we’re done hunting, I’ll set off the EM pulse. I’m a little worried about knocking out the generator, since EM pulses fuck electronic controls connected to long wires. I didn’t see any wires reaching to the island as we came inand underground cables shouldn’t be affected by the small EM bomb I brought, but you never know.
Tomorrow, I’ll contact Ora to see if her server and desktop machines are okay. If they turned off everything the way they claim, their system should be okay. If not, between me and Logan, we’ll make things right. But no one ever gets a recording of our play that could be used to hurt Jack, who is a surgeon, or Bravo, who still takes government contracts from time-to-time. To say nothing of my little, who is still deciding what she wants to do with her considerable programming skills but might open her own company someday.
I tuck the case away and pull out our costumes.
Cynnie hasn’t see our costumes yet. I love surprising my bumble.
“Oh, Oppa,” she says, drawing close and running her fingers down the fabric.
The costume’s a gold and black striped bodysuit that will highlight the beautiful curves I’m helping Cynnie love. Black tights with pink leg warmers will protect her legs from the rough-and-tumble of our play. Gossamer wings in pink and gold flow down the back of the costume and there’s a gold tiara for my Queen bee. Emily helped me find this confection. She called it “fairy bee,” which is perfect for my bumble baby.
