She twisted the hotel phone so she could see the instructions on its face as well as the hotel’s phone number. Sure enough, 850 was the area code. The third line wasn’t a serial number but a phone number.
What would it hurt to try? She tapped the number into her smartphone, pressed Call, and waited. It was ringing on the other end. Her mind kicked over to interrogation mode. She slowed her breathing, wiped her sweaty palm, and transferred the phone to her other hand. Three rings. Was the person on the other end expecting one of the packages from the cooler?
A woman’s voice answered. “Advanced Medical Educational Technology, how may I direct your call?”
Maggie’s eyes darted to the piece of paper. AMET.
“Yes, I’d like to speak with someone about a delivery.”
“You have a delivery for us? Is it for one of our conferences?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“That would be Lawrence Piper. He’s off-site today. Can I have him return your call?”
Maggie gave the woman her name and phone number. Before she could hang up, her phone was already beeping with an incoming call.
“This is Maggie O’Dell.”
“Hey, it’s Tully. I think I finally found your rope.”
“What is it?”
“High-tenacity rope, UV resistant, anti–chemical erosion, modified resin coating.”
“Wait a minute. You’re able to tell all that from my photos?”
“The weave is unique. I scanned in a couple of your close-ups and got a hit.”
Maggie had hoped the rope would lead them to the killer.
“So you found the manufacturer?”
“Ningbosa Material Company. They specialize in bulletproof plate, cut-resistant fabric, all kinds of good stuff.”
“Are they somewhere close by?”
“Zhejiang, China.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not sure I pronounced that correctly. My Chinese needs work.”
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Everything’s made in China these days, right?”
“There’s more. This color combination is a special order.”
“Excellent. So who’s the customer?”
“The United States Navy.”
Before Maggie could respond her phone was beeping again. Could it be Lawrence Piper already returning her call? “I’ve got another call coming in,” she told Tully. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks.” She clicked over. “Maggie O’Dell.”
“Now that’s music to my ears.”
“Colonel Benjamin Platt.” She tried to keep the smile from her voice. She hadn’t talked to him for several days and whether she wanted to admit it to him or to herself, she missed him. “How goes your secret mission?”
“I’m being sent home. Can I buy you dinner tomorrow night?”
“I’m not home and I won’t be for several days.”
“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. Disappointed and tired.
“Long story. I ended up on a road trip to Pensacola, Florida, with Charlie Wurth. Now I’m stuck here because of the hurricane.”
“You’re kidding? Where are you right now?”
“The Hilton on the beach. I’m looking out at the emerald-green waters of the Gulf as we speak. It’s absolutely beautiful. Hard to imagine a hurricane is on its way.”
“Go out on your balcony.”
“Excuse me?”
“What floor are you on?”
“Platt, I swear if you ask me what I’m wearing, I’m hanging up.”
“Just go out on your balcony.”
Maggie hesitated. The balcony door was open. She had wanted to listen to the sound of the waves. She walked out onto the small balcony.
“Now look down on the beach,” Platt told her.
There he was waving up at her.
“Buy you a drink at the Tiki Bar,” he said.
CHAPTER 41
“Did I tell you how good it is to see you?” Platt asked Maggie.
“Three times.”
But she smiled when she said it, so he figured he must not sound as high-school annoying as he thought he did. She wore a yellow knit top that brought out the gold flecks in her brown eyes. And she was wearing shorts—real shorts, not the baggy athletic ones she wore on game day. And flip-flops. She never wore open-toed shoes. The whole package was distracting as hell.
They’d snagged a table looking out at the Gulf. Platt had been told that most of the tourists had left Pensacola Beach, but the restaurants and bars—the ones that were still open—were crowded with residents, tired from packing all day.
The Tiki Bar offered free drinks. Their waitress told them they could still order appetizers if they didn’t mind an assortment chosen by the cook. In other words, whatever was left. When she delivered the platter, Maggie and Platt looked at each other like they had hit the jackpot: wild-mushroom spring rolls, grilled prawns with salsa, pineapple-glazed pork ribs. His mouth started watering from the aromas alone.