Yank nodded. “Good. Gordy could have made up the rumors to get in here and try to pump you for information. Him, MI5, Oliver York and your family. Not my favorite combination.” He heaved another sigh. “I don’t need more Sharpe trouble, Emma. I really don’t.”
“Understood.”
She headed out of his office, shutting the door behind her. To get to her own office, she had to pass through an open-layout area of tables and cubicles where HIT team members could meet or work on their own. Sam Padgett, the newest member, had set up at a U-shaped table with his wireless keyboard, laptop, separate monitor, a stack of printed spreadsheets and notebooks and several Sharpies. He was a dark, ultrafit, good-looking Texan, full of contradictions and foiled stereotypes, an expert marksman, a whiz at numbers and a total wimp when it came to New England winters. He’d arrived in Boston last fall and Emma swore no one had ever been so happy to see the green grass of spring.
He looked up at her. “Bad?”
“Not great. A retired agent was just here. Gordon Wheelock. Did you see him?”
“Nope. I was in my office gathering up my gear so I could spread out here.”
“And he didn’t see you?”
Padgett shook his head. He had on a dark suit, a crisp white shirt and loosened red tie, but he always managed to look casual. “Why, you want me to tail him?”
“Maybe,” Emma said, then explained the situation. “Think you can find out where he stayed last night? Knowing Gordy, it will be convenient and relatively inexpensive.”
“I never use inexpensive and Boston in the same sentence. Convenient to here?”
“He mentioned penguins. Try near the aquarium. I’m concerned he’s working his own agenda and could infringe on something he shouldn’t.”
“A freelancing retiree. Just what we need. I’ll go see the penguins. You off to Maine?”
“I’m on my way out now. I’m supposed to have lunch tomorrow with my future mother-in-law.”
“Lobster rolls and wild blueberry pie?”
“Very possibly. They’re not quintessential Maine foods for no reason.”
“No doubt. I’ve met your future mother-in-law. Nothing fazes her. You can tell.”
Emma smiled, some of her tension easing after her visits with Gordy and Yank. “Four sons would do that,” she said.
“Especially when all of them are Donovans. We’ll stay in touch about Agent Wheelock.”
She returned to her office and collected the contents of the files spread out on her sofa, stuffing them into their appropriate folders, then stacking the folders on her desk. She grabbed her jacket off the back of her door. Was Gordy invited to the open house on Saturday—or had he lied about the invitation as a maneuver to get her to talk?
One of a thousand questions coming at her.
No wonder Yank had hidden in his office during Gordy’s visit.
About forty children around ten years old were congregated at the entrance of the New England Aquarium, laughing and elbowing each other as their teachers counted heads, when Emma arrived. She’d decided to take a quick look on her walk back to her apartment. She wasn’t surprised not to see Gordy lined up at the ticket booth. A stiff breeze was blowing off the harbor but it didn’t freeze her to the bone the way it would have even a month ago. Spring had taken hold of New England, and that meant her wedding was getting closer and closer.
If only Colin were close, too...
She pushed the thought aside and walked the short distance to the nearest hotel, a four-star chain hotel on a small wharf jutting out into the water. It was probably more expensive than Gordy would have liked, but it was an easy walk to HIT and not a bad cab drive from the airport, assuming he hadn’t lied and he’d come in from London yesterday.
Emma didn’t quite know why she was thinking the way she was—not simply that Gordy Wheelock hadn’t told her the whole story about why he was in her office, but that he might have deliberately lied to her—but there it was.
She approached a cheerful bellman, explained who she was and showed him her FBI credentials. “I’m looking for a friend of mine,” she said, then described Gordy. The bellman pointed her to a colleague, an older man flagging a cab for a young couple. Emma waited until he finished.
He remembered Gordy. “Sure, sure. You missed him by a few minutes. I just put him in a cab.”
Emma stepped back from the curb, away from an arriving cab. “Has he checked out?”
“Yes, ma’am, he had his bag with him.”
“Do you know where he was headed?”
“I don’t, sorry.”
“Was he alone?”
The bellman nodded. “He was, yes. I never saw him with anyone. I worked late last night and I got in early today. I didn’t see him leave the hotel, but I saw him come back—he was on foot. Alone. Only weird thing...” He hesitated. “I probably shouldn’t say anything.”
“Go ahead, please,” Emma said. “He’s not in any trouble.”
“Well, he tripped last night. That’s what he said—I didn’t see it happen myself. He was bleeding...here.” He pointed to a spot behind his left ear. “We keep hand towels by the door for runners. I gave him one. He wasn’t real coherent but he thanked me. He said he tripped and went flying on the steps by the aquarium when he went out for a smoke.”
“Did you believe him?”
“Yes, ma’am. Of course. Why would you lie about something like that? At first I thought he’d been mugged, but he’s a big guy—not the target you’d pick, you know? Then he said he tripped and that made sense to me. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it. I asked him if he needed an ambulance, but he said no, he’d be fine. He looked okay just now.”
“Anything else you can think of?”
“There was one other thing. A cab driver gave us an envelope to deliver to him.”
“To Mr. Wheelock?”
The bellman nodded. “The driver said he left his passenger window open while he was chatting with another driver, and when he got back in, the envelope was on the front seat. He didn’t see who left it. He said there was a label on it but it blew off.”
“What did the label say?” Emma asked.
“Just the guy’s name and that he was a hotel guest. He’d checked his bag with the front desk. I found it and put the envelope in an outside pocket.”
“Did you look inside the envelope?”
“No, ma’am, I did not,” the bellman said, obviously offended.
Emma thanked him and headed back to the street. She called Sam Padgett and filled him in. “No wonder Gordy looked as if he was in pain,” she said.
“I’ll talk to housekeeping and see what they can tell me about the state of his room. Good work, Agent Sharpe. Are you going to call Wheelock and ask him what the bloody head and this envelope are all about?”
“Doing that next.”
“He didn’t mention falling either because it’s embarrassing, tripping while out for a smoke, or he was attacked and doesn’t want you to know.”
“Or it didn’t occur to him to mention it.”
“It