She shook her head.
“It’s just off the coast of Georgia,” he explained. “Near Savannah. That’s where you’ll fly into. We’ve chartered a boat to take you to the island. Once there, transportation will be provided.”
Picturing a tropical island, Blue said, “Sounds like a vacation spot.”
“It’s a lovely place, that’s true enough,” Lucas told her as if he had firsthand knowledge. “But it’s small and the locals don’t care much for outsiders. They’ll shun you, probably make you feel completely unwanted. Since you won’t be there to make friends, that won’t really matter. Just don’t expect to be embraced as if you were on a more touristy island.”
“When do I leave?” Adrenaline spiked. She was so ready for this.
“Your flight to Atlanta and then on to Savannah leaves National tomorrow morning. Can you handle that?”
Blue smiled. “I started packing this morning in anticipation of your call.” That still gave her time to pick up the painting.
Though Lucas didn’t smile, she didn’t miss the sparkle of amusement and approval in his eyes. “Very good, Callahan. The other accessories you’ll need will be waiting on St. Gabriel.”
Blue knew what he meant by “other accessories.” When flying commercial it was always best to have the weapons one needed waiting on the other end. It cut down on the hassle and supported anonymity.
“Who’s got my back?” she asked, wondering if it would be someone she had supported before.
Lucas didn’t answer for a moment, just considered her as if trying to decide if she was ready to hear what he had to say. “That’s why I came down here instead of calling you into the office.”
She’d wondered about that, but was so glad to get the assignment she didn’t question the irregularity.
“Edgar Rothman,” Lucas continued, “is a personal friend of Director Casey’s. Rothman feels personally responsible for what happened to Drake since he was the one who created the technology used. He doesn’t want just anyone looking out for Drake. Rothman wants the best. So, I’m sending you. I’ll have your back on this one.”
Blue’s eyes rounded in disbelief. “You’ll be on St. Gabriel?” She’d heard the words clearly enough, it just didn’t seem plausible that she’d heard correctly.
“Don’t worry, Callahan.” Lucas did smile this time. “I might spend most of my time behind a desk, but I know what I’m doing.”
She forced her head into an agreeable up-and-down motion. She didn’t doubt his qualifications or his ability. The idea was just a little unnerving. “Yes, sir.”
Lucas pushed to his feet and reached for his briefcase. “Well, I’ll leave you to carry on, my flight is this afternoon.”
Callahan followed him to the door. “Thanks, Mr. Camp.”
Lucas patted her on the arm the same way her father had done a thousand times. “Don’t worry, Callahan, I don’t bite, and, to the best of my knowledge, neither does Drake. Don’t be afraid to act as you would under any other circumstances. I won’t be there to rate your performance, I’ll be there as the director’s personal representative.”
Callahan didn’t move for a long time after the door closed behind Lucas Camp. Sure it made her a tad uneasy to know that the boss was going to be watching her every step. But as far as being afraid went, she definitely wasn’t.
Blue Callahan wasn’t afraid of anything.
A telling stillness crept through her.
Okay. There was that one itsy-bitsy matter but it didn’t really count. And no one except Ferrelli knew about it.
Her entire life she had been utterly terrified of one thing and one thing only—the dark.
Chapter Two
Unfortunately the stifling humidity she’d encountered the moment she stepped off the plane in Atlanta hadn’t abated as Blue made the boat ride to St. Gabriel Island late that evening. The view, even in the coming twilight, she had to admit, was nothing short of spectacular. She’d have been here hours ago had it not been for baggage-check delays in Atlanta.
As they cut through the water’s sleek surface, she inhaled more deeply of the salty wind caressing her face. It was rich with scents, nothing like the kind she was accustomed to in the big city. Admittedly, there was a vague hint of decaying vegetation and fish, but it wasn’t an overpowering smell, more a dash of aroma one would expect in the vicinity of a sea island.
As the boat slowed near the landing, Blue studied the small island. Near the aging dock, which served as a primitive marina, she could see what looked like a small commercial district. Very small, she decided on second look and commercial applied only in the most obscure sense of the word. Towering trees dripping Spanish moss from their arching limbs lined the sandy shore, sentinels guarding the forest beyond, a forest that looked incredibly deep and dark. She resisted the urge to shiver. And yet, it felt oddly familiar. She frowned, wondering at the sensation. She’d certainly never been here before.
It wasn’t what Blue had expected at all. When Lucas had said island, she’d thought of palm trees and other tropical plants, beaches filled with sunbathers and at least a few tourist hangouts. Not for a moment had she expected evergreens, live oaks and other deciduous trees with gnarled branches. And she definitely hadn’t anticipated the apparently sparse population.
In spite of her best efforts that shiver she’d put off tap-danced up her spine. She was being ridiculous, she knew. But all things considered, the whole mission was a little eerie even without the seemingly deserted island setting.
She’d studied the profile on Noah Drake. He was thirty-five, former military and highly decorated. Five years ago he’d field-tested some sort of experimental technology that was not explained since it was highly classified and explanations were doled out on a need-to-know basis only. The brass had apparently decided she didn’t need to know specifically what the technology was or what exactly were the resulting effects as applied to Mr. Drake. Nothing like going in blind.
She did know, however, that Drake had suffered extreme side effects. There was no mention of a physical disability, but that didn’t rule it out. He was confined to his home and had to avoid exposure to bright light, especially sunlight, at all costs. She decided that his eyes were likely the problem. Maybe his skin. Whatever the case, she would soon know.
The bottom line—and her only real concern at this point—was that he needed protection. And she was here to provide it. Noah Drake would be safe on her watch.
The boat sidled up alongside the rustic dock and Blue climbed out. She was glad now she’d dressed in jeans and walking shoes. The jeans were faded and comfortable and the black button-up blouse was her favorite.
The pilot plopped the two duffel bags she’d packed onto the worn planks. Blue thanked him and turned toward the shore. She shaded her eyes from the setting sun with her hand and searched the landing for the transportation Lucas had told her would be waiting.
An ancient pickup truck was parked about fifty feet back from the beach. At one time the vehicle appeared to have been some shade of green, though it was hard to say for sure now. Blue grabbed up her bags and started in that direction.
As she neared him, the thin man standing next to the truck pushed back his cap and scratched his balding head. “Miss Callahan?”
“At your service,” she responded, smiling a greeting in hopes of getting off on the right foot with the locals.
“Chester Parks.” He spat tobacco juice onto the ground, then squinted at her. “I’m s’posed to take you to the old Hatfield place.”
“That would be Mr. Drake’s residence?” she asked for clarification.
Reaching