For the first time since their meeting, Jack had the feeling that Claire might actually be willing to listen to advice regarding safety. Bringing up Archie had been a clever move to earn her sympathy. What mother wouldn't feel compassion for her boss? There was no doubt that the story had opened the young woman's eyes to the need for increased security on the island—even if, in her view, this enchanted place was protected from any harmful influence. As far as Jack was concerned, paradise-like enclaves no longer existed in this day and age, and the world had become a dangerous place.
Jack watched her step out of the vehicle. She looked thoughtful, almost melancholy. Probably because she had just realized he was right. All the better! He would finally be able to count on her cooperation. And wasn't that precisely an essential part of his job—securing the collaboration of community leaders?
He got out of the car in turn and walked with Claire to the front door. The solid oak panels had faded and chipped after decades of exposure to the relentless Florida sun. The brass knocker, shaped like a lobster claw, was dotted with rust. Jack held up the key ring to eye level.
"How are we supposed to know which one works—if any of them do after all these years?"
While Jack tried one key after another, Claire glanced around the property.
"There must have been beautiful gardens here once," she murmured pensively.
Hard to imagine flowers ever blooming in this place, Jack thought. The bushes tangled with twisted branches, and even the grass had given up—growing in patchy brown tufts over the sandy ground. Of course, as a die-hard city dweller, Jack knew absolutely nothing about plants.
He must have looked at her oddly, because Claire added with a laugh:
"Look at the flowerbeds—see how elaborate they are. They're made of brick and wood. That kind of work would've been done by a professional landscaper."
"This place could definitely use a gardener. Let's hope the inside is in better shape," Jack said.
With that, he inserted another key and gave the door a shove. It gave way. Jack stepped aside to let Claire enter first, then followed.
A musty smell hit him immediately. Then he noticed the spiderwebs draping the beams of the high ceiling—at least six meters overhead. Everywhere he looked, there was nothing but dust.
Claire had already stepped into the first room on the right. A dark wood counter suggested the space had once served as the hotel's reception area, back in its heyday. Jack joined her and pulled a notebook from his pocket, scribbling notes. He counted the number of windows to estimate the cost of installing a security system. Meanwhile, Claire was admiring a grand fireplace made of cut stone. Dozens of wooden ducks, coated in a grayish film, lined the marble mantel. She then moved to a huge armchair upholstered with a cushion still faintly patterned with a speckled trout. She gave it a soft pat—promptly raising a thick gray cloud. Cautiously, she stepped back and turned her attention to the walls, decorated with nautical artifacts. She was clearly captivated by the place.
Jack didn't share her enthusiasm for the decor. In fact, he hadn't even picked the furniture in his own New York apartment; he'd hired an interior designer who chose teak and chrome pieces for his four-room flat. Jack had just one requirement: it had to be modern and easy to clean.
Here, the decor felt overloaded, the furniture bulky. And he couldn't see past the dust. He was glad he wasn't responsible for the renovation—only the security.
"This is a really interesting room, don't you think?" Claire asked suddenly.
"I think it's mostly dusty," he replied with a laugh.
Her eyes shining, Claire said:
"It's an enchanting place."
Enchanting? Jack thought the word applied more to its visitor than to the place itself. He was just about to share the thought when a shadow outside a window suddenly caught his attention.
"Don't move!" Jack ordered.
"Excuse me?" she asked, startled.
Dashing toward the door, he repeated the command.
"What's going on?" she asked, ready to follow him—but Jack's stern look froze her in place.
"There's someone outside. They're watching us," he explained.
"For heaven's sake, don't be ridiculous! Your eyes must be playing tricks on you."
"Maybe. But I have to check."
She watched him disappear, then hurried to the dining room, where the French doors looked out onto the back of the property. Was Jack right? Someone was limping around the boathouse. Who could it possibly be? In any case, the person didn't seem threatening—they were clearly struggling to walk. Fortunately, Jack seemed to have come to the same conclusion because, instead of tackling the stranger, he grabbed their elbow and turned them around.
Claire wrestled with a stubborn door for a few seconds. Finally managing to get it open, she rushed toward the strange pair… Curtis! What is he doing here? she wondered as she recognized the intruder. Somehow, she had the feeling that Jack knew him too.
"It's you!" Jack exclaimed as Claire came within earshot. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, would you look at that! You know Curtis?" she asked in surprise.
"Yes—I gave him a bowl of clam chowder yesterday."
"Let go of him! You're hurting him!"
Jack flinched but obeyed. Turning to the old man, he asked:
"Did I hurt you?"
"He didn't hurt me," Curtis admitted.
"You can speak to Mr. Hogan directly," Claire said to Curtis. "He works for the new owner of the hotel. You should explain to him why you're here."
"And how you got in," Jack added.
Curtis looked between the two of them with a shifty gaze, then decided to address Claire.
"I moved in," he finally said.
"I thought you were staying in the shed near the hotel," Claire replied.
"The boss needed it to store some boxes he just received. I can go back once he's emptied them."
"How did you get in?" Jack asked.
Curtis waved vaguely and replied, "That way."
"Show me."
The trio walked over to a pile of cut branches near the fence. Claire had a feeling Jack wasn't going to be pleased…
"You're a clever man, Curtis," Jack said, his tone reproachful as he cleared away the camouflaging branches. "Did you dig any other entrances?"
Curtis's guilty look confirmed Jack's suspicions.
"Show me," Jack ordered.
Curtis had dug a total of four tunnels to sneak into the dolphin enclosure.
"The property's so big!" he said defensively. "I could never tell where they were going to drop me off."