until this morning.”
“That blows. They showed pictures on TV of people stuck at the airport, jam-packed in like sardines. Which one was she flying out of, do you know?”
Cage shook his head.
“Maybe she got lucky and managed to get a room for the night.”
“Yeah, maybe. Thanks, Sandy.” Cage rose from the table and grabbed his plate.
“I hope I helped.”
“You did.”
Cage went into the war room, glad to find it empty. He sat down at one of the consoles, opened up one of Ian’s customized search engines, and started typing. Then, he cursed under his breath and sat back.
What the hell was he doing? Cyberstalking Bree? If he wanted to find out where Bree was and what she was doing, all he had to do was pick up the phone and call her ...
Assuming she answered. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. He’d been pretty harsh, but goddammit, she’d hit a nerve. He wasn’t his family any more than she was hers, and why the hell was she listening to anything a tool like Lenny Petraski said?
Now, he feared he was too late. A few more keystrokes and clicks, and there it was. Bree’s flight, rescheduled from the previous night, was scheduled to take off in less than an hour.
His phone rang, and he picked it up without looking. “Bree?”
“No, Sean Callaghan,” the other man said, sounding slightly amused. “What do you have as my Contact pic, man?”
“Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
“Obviously. But that’s why I’m calling. Your woman left something in the Mustang when she turned it in.”
Your woman. Cage liked the sound of that even if it wasn’t exactly true. “What?”
“A journal of some sort. Nice one, too. Hand-tooled leather. Must have slipped out of her bag or something. Nicki found it wedged between the console and the passenger seat.”
Cage remembered seeing it. “Red with a fancy engraved imprint on the cover? Yeah, she carried it with her everywhere.”
“Did you ever look at any of those notes, by any chance?”
Something about the tone of Sean’s voice made the hairs on the back of Cage’s neck stand up.
“No. Why?”
“Because they’re written in code. Nicki says it’s some kind of shorthand notation or something.”
Cage scoffed, “No one uses shorthand anymore.”
“That’s what I said, but apparently, she does. And Nicki can read it.”
“Nicki read Bree’s personal journal?”
“She opened it up to confirm it was De Rossi’s. Certain words jumped out, like cult and arson, so yeah, Nicki read more. By the looks of it, De Rossi interviewed some nonfans of yours while she was in town.”
Yeah, he’d already figured that out. “How bad is it?”
“Bad enough. I think you guys need to take a look at it.”
Shit. “Let me talk to Church and get back to you.”
He sent out a secure text to the group to meet him in the war room and then pulled up Bree’s number again while he waited. He was a SEAL, for God’s sake. He could find the courage to call her.
Unfortunately, it went right to voice mail. Of course it went right to voice mail. Because she was probably boarding her flight to go back to California.
“What’s up?” Church asked as he walked in the door, the first to arrive.
“We might have a situation.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Cage
“Nice,” Nicki Callaghan commented as they left the lobby and headed toward the former ballroom.
While Jake and Ian were regular visitors to Sanctuary, it was Sean’s and Nicki’s first time.
“We aim to please.” Heff grinned.
They settled in the war room. Not only were all the Sanctuary owners there, but their significant others were as well since this affected them, too.
After introductions were made, they got right to business. Nicki shared what she’d translated from the journal.
She told them about Bree’s research into the history of Winston resort as well as her interactions with locals, like Martha McGillicuddy and Agnes Miller. “Luckily for you guys, she’s not only thorough, but also incredibly perceptive, and she has a knack for seeing through bullshit. Sounds like she was being fed a lot of it.”
Cage felt a wave a pride on Bree’s behalf.
Nicki continued, “According to her notes, Lenny Petraski compared Sanctuary to a cult, even going so far as to say you seduce women and force them to sever ties to their loved ones to live here with you.”
“That’s not the first time we’ve heard that,” Mad Dog rumbled beside Kate. Her ex, Renninger, had said as much to Mad Dog during a standoff at Kate’s months earlier.
Sandy was nodding her head