Rogue Wave (The Water Keepers, Book 2) (9 page)

Mom’s eyes brightened. “Mark, you got her a present? How thoughtful.” She angled her body to face him and patted his chest.

My movements were slow as I tried to act casual, to pretend everything was completely normal, that I didn’t suspect anyone in the room of doing anything questionable. I slid my finger under the lip of the envelope and pulled out the card.

Dear Sadie,

Thank you for sharing your mother with me these past few months. I hope all of us can enjoy many more dinners together in the future.

Love, Dr. J

The note felt like a message. Dr. Jensen was planning to stick around for quite some time. I’d been hoping for this for years, but I was having trouble embracing his good intentions at the moment.

I looked up to force a smile in the happy couple’s direction. When I finally had all the velvety ribbons and paper removed, I flipped the box over several times, just to verify that I was looking at what I thought I was looking at.

“Is this a phone?” I asked, baffled. The picture on the box displayed a slim device that appeared so high-tech it could be a mini computer.

Dr. Jensen looked pleased by my response. “Yes. It’s a smartphone. I thought all the kids your age were experts with these things.”

“Sure,” I said, “the kids who’ve been using them since they were three. My phone is from the stone ages.” A genuine smile landed briefly on my face. “Wow, thanks. That was really nice.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said. Then he smirked. “Now we just need to find a way to get your mother to upgrade from her old phone. I think it’s probably older than yours.”

My mom pouted playfully. “I like my phone. And I don’t have to be a computer engineer to figure out how to use it.”

Dr. Jensen rubbed my mother’s back and said, “Well, Sadie, I hope you like it.”

I hesitated only a second. “Um, yes. Of course. Thank you.”

***

The valet drove away in the doctor’s Jaguar, and I followed behind my mom into the restaurant. We waited in the rustic lobby for our table while Dr. Jensen tried desperately to include me in the conversation. I gave him short answers, not feeling my usual, congenial self. All I could think about was calling Rayne.

I had to know if this thing with Dr. Jensen was really something I should be worried about. Rayne would know. I wasn’t sure what time he was supposed to go get the Healing Water or how long it would take him. I’d tried texting him several times while riding in the back seat on the drive over, but there still was no reply.

Mom shot me a disapproving glance just before the hostess arrived to direct us to our table. The atmosphere was much louder than I expected. For a weeknight, the place seemed incredibly crowded. My mom looked disappointed when they didn’t have a table open next to the row of large windows looking out over the harbor. Normally, I would be wishing for a great view of the harbor as well, but I’d already lost interest in the entire evening.

My eyes glazed over, staring at the large, stone-covered fireplace a few feet away.

“Sadie…” Mom said in an overly pleasant tone. “Why don’t you tell Dr. Jensen about your plans for school in the fall?”

I blinked and turned my head a couple of inches in his direction. “I got accepted to UCLA.” Then I went back to staring at the fire.

“Congratulations,” he said. “You know, your mother and I were thinking of going up near Los Angeles one of these days. Possibly next weekend.”

My mom cleared her throat. “Mark, honey, I thought we agreed that I would discuss this matter with Sadie myself, in private.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It just slipped out,” he said. He moved his face closer to hers. “But she’s practically an adult, Leena. I think she can handle it.”

Mom’s eyes tightened. “Well, I’m her mother, so I think I should be the one to decide that.”

I glanced at my mom, suddenly interested in every word she had to say. It was a rare thing for her to speak to anyone in such a strained tone. Dr. Jensen’s comment about L.A. probably wouldn’t have made me think twice, but my mom’s intense reaction to it caused the underlying meaning of his words to become clear.

“Wait,” I said. “When you say go to Los Angeles next weekend, do you mean for the
entire
weekend? Like, a couple’s getaway-thing in a hotel room and all that?”

Mom’s face froze and turned a pallid shade of white. “No, sweetie, of course not. I would never do something like that without talking to you about it first.”

If she had asked me yesterday if I would be comfortable with something like this, I would have practically packed her suitcases for her. But right now, the idea of her going off with some guy I wasn’t even sure I could trust, made my little toes want to cringe.

“Good,” I snapped. “Because I think that would be a terrible idea.”

Our server stopped by to give us our drinks and ask if we were ready to order.

Dr. Jensen motioned to me. “Do you know what you’d like, Sadie?”

I pursed my lips. “I don’t care. Just bring me whatever.”

He turned back to the server politely. “Why don’t you…give us another minute?”

“You see…” Mom said in a hushed tone. “I told you this would upset her.”

I took a sip of my ice water then looked directly into the doctor’s eyes with an insolent glare. “Gee, this water is so refreshing. You could almost call it…
miracle
water.”

Dr. Jensen’s eye twitched, but he didn’t look away. He pasted on his signature, charming smile and spoke mildly through his teeth. “You should try the salmon. I hear it’s to die for.”

“I don’t like salmon,” I shot back.

Mom laughed nervously. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about? You love salmon.”

I stood up from the table abruptly. “Mom, you know what I like. Can you just order something for me? I’m going to make a phone call.” I walked away without waiting for her answer and pushed through the maze of tables to the lobby. Then I dialed Rayne’s number repeatedly, reaching nothing but his voicemail every time.

8. RAYNE FACES A PROBLEM

The Range Rover glided with ease into the tiny space as Rayne parallel parked on the busy street. He had never spent much time in downtown Long Beach until it became the designated drop location for Sadie’s supply of Healing Water. Why would he? Even though there was a nice area with a park and restaurants and a boardwalk along the bay just a few blocks over, it was almost forty minutes away from Newport Beach…and Sadie. He didn’t like being so far from her for so long.

Using the Long Beach Public Library as the drop location made sense, though. It was almost exactly the half-way point between Sadie’s neighborhood and the Threshold. It wouldn’t be fair or even prudent to have the other agent make the entire seventy-five minute drive to bring the vials to him; especially when the Keeper or Scout, or whoever was being sent, was probably being asked to break normal protocol without any sort of explanation.

Rayne flipped off the ignition in a hurry and sprang from the car. It was still afternoon, and if everything went smoothly, he could be back in Newport Beach before Sadie was even seated for dinner.

It was an almost perfect, sunny spring day. He jogged up the steps to the large concrete building, feeling almost giddy. It was a strange feeling, allowing his buried emotions to leak to the surface.

He felt different. His priorities were jumbled in his mind, and he wasn’t quite sure if that was such a bad thing anymore. Maybe there was hope. Maybe he could get away with breaking the rules and no one would be the wiser. If Sadie chose to be with him, it would be worth the risk to find out.

Rayne took the indoor stairs down to the basement level of the library and walked with purpose to the back corner of the building.

Just as he was entering the isle of books where the Healing Water was supposed to be secured, he stopped abruptly. A male figure, six foot one, 175 pounds, stood at the far end of the row. The man was facing the book shelf with a dark hooded sweater pulled over his head.

He glanced up briefly at Rayne, his face partially covered by dark sunglasses. Rayne assessed that the guy was fairly young, probably late teens or early twenties. Rayne would have pinpointed a number if it weren’t for the sunglasses. The guy turned back to lean over the open book in his hands.

Rayne regained his focus. Not wanting to appear suspicious, he slowed to a casual pace and looked up and down the shelves as if browsing for his next read. The hooded person snapped the book shut in his grip, causing a loud clap between the pages. Rayne turned at the sound. The guy gave him a light nod, then without breaking eye contact, let a cool, almost gloating grin spread wide across his face. He tossed the book carelessly back on the shelf and swiftly disappeared around the corner.

Rayne paused for only a brief second, calculating how to respond to the odd behavior. Something didn’t feel right. He dropped to his knees and fumbled for the hidden compartment underneath the lowest shelf. The cover to the compartment dropped open when Rayne released the dual-latching mechanism, but there was nothing inside. It was suddenly so glaringly obvious. The Healing Water had been stolen, and the hooded man was the thief.

Rayne bounded to his feet and ran through the aisles of the library, eyes darting from side to side at each vacant opening. He moved to the center of the room, examining every corner, every face, every possible exit. There was no easy way out on this floor. He bolted up the central staircase toward the main entrance and circled around. After a quick survey of the room, he found nothing again and headed furiously out the front door.

The thief was nowhere.

Rayne wished he had something breakable in his hand so he could throw it at the concrete. He pictured the thief’s sick smile just before he disappeared. It was as if he was enjoying himself, like it was a game. Rayne scolded himself. He should have recognized the signs sooner. He was out of practice. He had let his guard down.

But he quickly composed himself. He couldn’t go back and change it now. He forced himself to focus, bridling his anger out of necessity. Without the Healing Water, Sadie only had twenty-four to forty-eight hours to live.

Rayne pulled out his phone as he ran full stride to his car and began dialing numbers frantically—Agent Barnsley, Agent Hurst, Agent Ashfield. Nobody was picking up. He knew it would be a long shot to reach one of his contacts within signal range on such short notice. The typical Keeper only spent a week or two outside the Threshold at a time.

Rayne darted across the street, barely pausing for oncoming traffic then slammed the door behind him as he jumped into his car. He dialed Agent Rogers, then Wilkins and Saunders. Still no answer.

He was hesitant to call Chambers or Davis. They both had already contributed two vials of Healing Water in just the last few months, requiring them to lie on their monthly reports. It would be asking a lot of them to do that for him again, especially so soon. But Rayne was flustered and desperate. If he couldn’t come up with some Healing Water on his own, he would have to cross the Threshold to get more. That would require him to be gone for hours.

He dialed both agents’ numbers one after the other, but neither answered. For all he knew, they were purposely screening his phone calls, maybe all of them were. He was probably becoming an annoyance to every Keeper in the Western States Region.

He drove around the corner and pulled onto the freeway to head north. Things weren’t looking good, and he would most likely have to make the trip through the Threshold. He might as well start heading that direction to save time. As he crossed over from the 710 Freeway to the 405, another possible number came to mind—Agent Bishop.

Rayne didn’t know Bishop well and was usually happy to keep his distance. Bishop was an older, more experienced agent whose typical conversation consisted of a head nod or grunt. Rayne always wondered why a man who appeared so cold and forbidding would choose to become a Keeper, a position that required a certain degree of sympathy and compassion.

Rayne spoke into the speaker on the phone, “Call Agent Bishop.”

After several rings, he was about to hang up in defeat when a voice came through on the line.

“Is this really Rayne Stevens?” came an eager reply.

Rayne paused, taken aback. The voice was young and full of excitement.

“Bishop?” Rayne asked, hesitating.

“Oh wow. It really is you, isn’t it?”

“Who is this?” Rayne demanded. “I’m looking for Bishop.”

“This is Corbit, Corbit Lloyd,” the boy said cheerfully. “Bishop’s in the bathroom. Of course, I wouldn’t normally answer his phone, but when I saw
your
name on the screen, I couldn’t help it. I am a
huge
fan of yours. This is so cool. I can’t believe you took down Voss Hastings all by yourself. And then there’s that special Advanced Keeper Program at the Academy now, all because of you… I seriously can-
not
believe I’m talking to Rayne Stevens right now. Oh, uh, sir, Mr. Rayne. I mean, Mr. Stevens, sir.”

Rayne let out a dubious sigh, confused why this person—who he could only assume was some sort of agent in training—sounded strangely like a twelve-year-old boy and was treating Rayne like some kind of celebrity. How did the kid even know Rayne had anything to do with Voss’s Death? Since when were agent reports shared with trainees, especially reports regarding Rayne, whose activities were strictly classified?

“Um, anyway,” Rayne said, shaking his head. “Listen, Agent Lloyd, I just need to talk to Bishop. I’m kind of in a hurry.”

The boy chuckled. “Agent Lloyd…” he repeated in amusement. “I’m not an agent yet, sir. I’m just a first-year.”

“A first-year?” Rayne questioned. “What is Bishop doing taking you out in the field? You’re too young. You have to be at least in your fifth semester to go on a shadow mission.”