Yep. From both my lived experiences and loads and loads of training from the CSA. Neither of which I want us to talk about. Owen waits, though, giving me the opportunity. When it’s obvious I’m not going to say anything about it, he seems to let his nerves take full rein again, and he looks out across the empty auditorium.
Then he pulls out his phone. “I should probably let Giovanni know about this.”
“No!” I say, much too panicked. I quickly calm my voice before I speak again, because I can’t tell Owen the truth, which is that my gut is telling me thatGiovanni probably has something to do with this. Or maybe he doesn’t have anything to do with it, and everything I’ve found and seen is just a coincidence. But I can’t really deny my spy-dey senses.
So, instead, I tell Owen what seems logical. “Don’t bother him with this—Giovanni is a busy man, and he has plenty on his plate already. This will just make him worry while he’s on another continent and can’t even do anything about it. He has faith in you to take care of things here. Let him. Besides, it didn’t look like the guy took anything. He wasn’t even here long enough to look around.”
He did leave something, though. That much, I’m sure of. I’m also sure that Owen didn’t see the hint of a package the guy held.
Owen nods. “You’re right. I should go and check the cameras and see if there’s anything that the police might be able to go on.”
I sigh. “He knew where the cameras were and avoided them.”
Owen looks shocked. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Owen is so wide-eyed and nervous. I don’t blame him. “I need to put up some more cameras to cover those areas where that guy just went.”
“That’s a really good idea. Who knows where the cameras are currently? Your crew? Subcontractors?” I don’t ask about Giovanni because I don’twant to freak Owen out, and because I already know the answer to that one—he knows exactly where they are.
“I installed them up high so they aren’t easily accessible, but they’re not exactly hidden. Anyone who’s been in here would know where they are if they were looking for them.”
“Maybe the guy just snuck in out of curiosity,” I say in an attempt to calm Owen’s fears. We don’t know anything yet, so no sense in getting him needlessly worried. This place is his baby. And not just because it’s a beautiful building that he’s already poured so much of his heart into, but also because this place was important to his beloved grandpa. Someone he idolized. I get the sense that he would do anything to honor the man.
We pack up the rest of our dinner remains, and then I ask, “Is there a restroom here, by chance?”
Owen smiles. “The one by the offices is one of the first things we got working.”
We head downstairs, and he leads me to the restroom. As soon as I’m inside, I pull out my phone. Jace is still on his honeymoon. Miles just left for a mission. So I text my two remaining brothers at the CSA—Ledger and Emerson—and quickly type what happened, where the man went, and suggest that it might have been a smuggling-related dead drop, based on the man’s behavior. Ledger responds first, says he’s in Cipher Springs, that he’ll retrieve whatthe man just left, and for me to keep Owen distracted.
When I exit the restroom, Owen is coming back from the front of the theater. “I just checked all of the doors, and everything is locked up, just as it was. I can’t see how he got in. Most of the windows are too high. I checked the lower ones in the offices, and they’re still locked.”
“Who has keys?” I ask.
He pulls his from his pocket. “Only me.”
“Maybe he picked a lock.”
“They’re supposed to be anti-theft. And why did he break in if he didn’t do anything?”
He heads back into the auditorium, so I do, too, and we both go up the same steps the man did. When we get backstage, Owen heads left. When he gave me a tour of this place, he mentioned that he showed Giovanni a hidden alcove behind the set storage area, so I go there, and I immediately find the package. It’s not too big—about the size of a standard envelope and about an inch-and-a-half thick.
I glance to make sure that Owen is still on the other side of the stage, where he can’t see me. Then, I pull out my phone, take a picture of where it is, and quickly text it to Ledger so he won’t have to search the whole theater.
Once we’ve checked everything and don’t find a single thing out of place, we grab thebag with our picnic items, head out the front doors, and Owen locks up behind us. As we are walking back up the street to Owen’s truck, in an effort to distract him from worrying, at least for now, I look up at the cloudless sky and say, “Isn’t tonight beautiful?”
When Owen looks up, I spot Ledger in the shadows. I know he can see me, too, and knows he’s clear to go in and retrieve the package.
“It’s almost my birthday,” I say, so he doesn’t focus too much on what just happened. And also because I’ve been meaning to bring it up all night.
Owen stops walking and turns to me. “It is?”
I nod. “Each person in my family gets to pick some kind of competitive activity for everyone to do when it’s their birthday. Well, we actually chose a long time ago, and then they all just kind of became traditions. My brothers all picked some kind of sport with a twist. I chose a talent show. So, every year, my brothers and parents—well, just my mom now—do some kind of performance.
“They don’t even have to be real talents. In fact, it’s better if they aren’t. Anything goes. Like, one year, Jace did a dramatic dialogue of a disgruntled superhero stuck in traffic, and Blake performed a slow, overly emotional ballad about socks. Once, Emerson presented a slide deck roast of all of our worst fashion phases. And they can do it in pairs or alone. One year,Miles and Ledger performed a synchronized interpretive dance.
“If the weather is good, we do it in my mom’s backyard. After everyone performs, I choose a winner, and the winner gets to go home with the trophy and display it with pride until my next birthday. Do you maybe want to join me for it on Saturday?” I’m quick to add, “You don’t have to do a talent or anything. You can help me judge.”
