“So if someone has actually been breaking into the rooms, it could be they were interested in what wasonthe laptops. There’s a chance the person accessed them. Maybe hunting for passwords to bank accounts or other banking information.”
“If that was their goal,” he says, “they didn’t succeed. Or at least they didn’t succeed when it came to those four individuals who came forward with their allegations. They said there were no strange activities associated with any of their accounts, and that goes for their social media and financial accounts. There’s not much I can do about guests who leave personal items in their rooms, but I do want to make sure the risks to their belongings are minimal.”
“The fact that someone is entering the rooms and touching guests’ belongings is disconcerting enough. Do you have any idea who might be involved?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Prior to the report of the memory stick going missing, the previous reports of the possible break-ins have been going on for a couple of months…or longer. So I don’t believe it’s a guest. We have several long-term guests, but no one who has stayed there for the entire duration this has been going on.”
“So we’re looking potentially at staff. They would have access to the rooms.”
“That would be my guess, but the individuals I’ve hired are all good people. I can’t imagine anyone being capable of doing that.”
“Imagine or not, it’s still our most plausible explanation.”
“Have you reported any of this to the police?” Isabelle asks.
“I haven’t. At first, it was because I didn’t have anything substantial. I can hardly file a report without evidence. No one would take that seriously, and the hotel security found nothing suspicious. I suggested to the person who was positive his memory stick had been temporarily stolen that he should report it to the cops, but I think he was too embarrassed to do that. He chose not to.”
Bradshaw’s right about one thing: the police don’t take you seriously when the only “evidence” you have is your gut reaction.
They need more than that.
“What are you expecting us to do?” Isabelle asks.
“I need you two to figure out what’s going on and locate evidence I can go to the police with. Because my gut is warning me that whatever is going down is something big.” He looks between us, expression hopeful, venturing on pleading. “Does this mean you’ll take my case? Your food and accommodations will be covered for as long as you need. And I’m more than delighted to pay your agency fee.”
“I’ll need to confer with my boss first,” I tell him.
“Why do you think the walls have ears?” Isabelle asks.
“I didn’t want to take a chance that whoever is doing this has bugged my office.”
“Fair enough.” I don’t really believe that’s the case, but as long as he believes it, he’s less likely to accidentally mention to the wrong person why Isabelle and I are staying at the resort.
Because despite what he might think, Isabelle’s safety is my number one priority.
14
Isabelle
Two hours later,Liam has given the go-ahead for Jayden and me to investigate the alleged theft and Bernard’s suspicions. But this was with a resounding, “Keep out of trouble, or else there’ll be hell to pay when you get back.”
I assume that was directed more toward Jayden’s injury than anything else.
Andpossiblybecause I don’t possess the same level of training as the guys on Liam’s team.
We’re also to report to him regularly, to make sure weare“keeping out of trouble.”
Apparently,Daddoesn’t trust us.
In the meantime, Bernard gave us a list of guests who were staying at the resort while the suspicious activities were going on, the individual who reported the theft of the memory stick, names of potential victims, and staff working during any portion of that time frame.
Now we’re waiting for Connor to provide us with the information he’s uncovered, especially a potential link between anyone on the list.
“Is there anything else I can bring you?” the waitress asks Jayden and me.
After Bernard dropped us off at the resort, Jayden and I found a restaurant not too close to the hotel.
“No, I’m good.” I pop another bite of the chicken enchilada into my mouth and do my best not to moan like Meg Ryan in the infamousWhen Harry Met Sallyscene.
