Ethan and Ford glanced at each other as if thinking the exact same thing. A human security camera.
“Agnes,” Ethan started, “we’ve got a situation. It appears there might be someone in camp who has . . . ulterior motives for being here.”
“If you’re asking whether I’ve seen someone sneaking around the storage bunker, then the answer is yes. You don’t need to beat around the bush and play coy with me,” she said, and then turned toward Ford and raised her brow. “Unless you’re trying to get in my knickers, that is.”
“I’m sorry . . . did you say you saw someone sneaking around the storage bunker?” Ford asked, ignoring her inuendo.
“Sure did. Didn’t see who it was, though, unfortunately. Caught my attention because I thought it was odd seeing someone wearing a black hooded sweatshirt. It’s a little hot for a sweatshirt. But then he was walking around the storage bunker. Like he was eyeing it real close. Like trying to find a way in. Didn’t see whether he did, though. Kind of hard to see from this angle.”
“Was there anything else about him, like, physically, that you can remember?”
“No, like I said. He had on a hood. Sort of hard to tell from afar. Though I suppose he seemed on the smaller end of the spectrum, as far as the men here go.”
“Small? How small?”
“Small like I could crush him. Maybe yea tall,” she said, putting her hand up no higher than her own head. “And definitely didn’t have shoulders like yours.” Another flirty smile.
Ford mentally ran through the men in camp. Only a few could possibly fit the bill, though Agnes’s vague recollection was anything but definitive. “Do you remember seeing any black hoodies in the bags we’ve searched so far?” he asked Ethan.
“No. Though if we’re narrowing it down to guys on the shorter side, we’ve really only got Guiles left.”
Guiles. That brownnosing little kiss-ass. Hmm.
“Have you noticed anything else strange around here lately?” Ford asked.
“Couple of weird things on the supply list. And I’m not talking about your special delivery,” she said, wiggling her brow at Ford again.
God dammit, Agnes. Ethan raised his brows. “Condoms,” Ford begrudgingly admitted. Good thing Ethan already knew about him and Corrie, otherwise he would have had a lot more explaining to do. “Can you please focus now, Agnes? What kind of weird things?”
“Well, I don’t know a whole lot about what you all do out there and all the tools you use, but the bolt cutters and a screwdriver on the list threw me for a loop. Not the most efficient digging tools.”
The culprit must have used them to break into the shed.
“Why are you telling us all this now?” Ethan asked.
“I’m paid to cook, not babysit and play detective,” she responded, sassy as all get out.
Ford opened his mouth to ask another question when Sunny came rushing over carrying the sat phone. “Dr. Matthews,” she said out of breath, “it’s the investor.”
Now? Great. What was he supposed to tell him? That they had a thief among their ranks? Taking the phone and stepping away from Ethan, Agnes, and Sunny, Ford braced himself for a lot of explanation.
“This is Dr. Matthews.”
“Do I need to ask what is going on at my camp?” Vautour barked. He’d never taken this tone before, but there was no mistaking his voice—he was not pleased. “What’s all this about you questioning employees and searching through their belongings?”
He’d already heard? How could that be?
Ford glanced at the others, waiting patiently for him to get off the phone. Surely Sunny hadn’t called him.
“Sir, we’ve had some trouble over the last few days. Someone’s broken into the shed where we keep the artifacts.”
“And do you know who it is?”
“No. That’s what we’re trying to figure out, though I’m afraid it might be one of your employees. We might have to shut down the dig for a short time while we—”
Vautour cut him off. “Absolutely not. In fact, you need to stop these interrogations right now and get to work.”
Ford cocked his head even though Vautour couldn’t see. “Sir, you don’t understand what we’re dealing with. We can’t continue without finding out who the thief is.”
“You can and you will. I’m not paying you to take days off questioning my employees . . . or frolicking in the jungle with your sexy little assistant.”
A lump caught in Ford’s throat. How did he know about that? He couldn’t have Vautour thinking all he was doing there was fucking around. Sure, there was some of that going on, but both Ford and Corrie took their jobs seriously. Besides, what they did in their private time really wasn’t anyone’s business. Not even Vautour’s.
“Sir, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but—”
“You can stop right there. I don’t need your excuses or your lies. That’s what you were going to do, after all, isn’t that right? Tell me I have it all wrong? That you weren’t found sneaking off in the middle of the night groping that woman under the cover of the jungle?”
Guiles.
Ford should have known, what with Guiles’s watchful eye and tattletale mouth. Vautour’s spy. Guess Lance wasn’t able to convince him to keep quiet after all.
“You’re lucky I don’t fire you on the spot. But maybe we’ll leave that up to Yale and whether they want to fire you for fraternizing with a student intern. If you don’t start producing, then I might have to let them know.”
Wait. Vautour thought Ford was messing around with Sunny? And—hold on a minute—was he blackmailing Ford?
“Sir . . . are you threatening me?”
“Call it whatever you’d like. I’m paying you to do a job, Dr. Matthews, and I expect that it’s going to get done. I want that goddamn knife and I want it now. Not a month from now. Not a year. The longer you’re out there, the more suspicion it raises. If that means I have to apply a little more pressure on you, then so be it.”
The hell with that. Ford wasn’t going to play this game. “Then I quit.”
He’d find some other way to earn the money to pay for his mother’s treatments. Extra courses. Teaching gigs at other schools. Hell, he’d even take up the library’s offer to do a ten-week speaking series that paid only seventy-five dollars a pop if it meant maintaining his integrity. Vautour could take his threats and shove them right up his pompous asshole.
So why was Vautour laughing?
“I don’t think so,” Vautour said, his voice unwavering. “This is not only your reputation we’re dealing with here, Dr. Matthews. If you quit, then I’ll make sure each and every person on your team never sets foot on an archaeological dig again. And that tasty treat you’ve got? Well, I hear she’s quite the looker. I can’t wait to see the photos my man got of the two of you by the waterfall this afternoon. I’m sure others will be interested in them, too.”
Fire surged through Ford’s veins as his grip tightened around the phone. It was one thing to threaten him. Ruin his reputation, fine. There wasn’t much left of it after he’d pissed off Dr. Crawley, anyway. But it was another thing entirely to threaten his team.