Page 9 of Operation Heartbeat
The notes were fresh and masculine, carrying a note of pine. Her mind shot to images of pine shavings and a lit flame, a curl of smoke as the tinder caught.
He flipped open the laptop and put his fingers to the keys. A minute later, he twisted the computer to face her.
She blinked at what she was seeing.
The cryptogram.
Her heart responded with a skittering beat as she stared at what would just be a jumble of letters to anyone else.
“It’s handwritten.”
He turned his head to pierce her in his gaze. “It is?”
Eyes glued to the screen, she nodded. “Many cryptograms are written by hand. See here, how the letters are neat but vary just a little bit?” She pointed at the screen.
“Yes.”
“This character presents more of a puzzle.”
“How so?” His voice had an edge that reminded her that he wasn’t one of her Princeton colleagues. What he did for a livingwas very, very different. It was harsh. Hardened. Con was honed into steel by battle.
She glanced down at his hand planted on the desk next to hers. Tendons and veins snaked over the back. His long fingers sported a dusting of crisp hair as masculine as the owner. And a jagged, white scar ran along the outer edge of his hand up to his wrist.
Darting her attention back to the cryptogram, she continued to explain. “The minute differences in the letters can have different meanings.”
“Explain.”
Excitement flurried in her belly as she went down the rabbit hole of the topic she loved. “The cross on thisAstarts in the middle. Here, it starts low and angles up to the right. See the difference?”
“So that could be anAand the other stands for something else?”
She bobbed her head. “It could be a different letter, a word, a phrase…anything!”
“So where do I get the cipher?”
She drew her lip between her teeth. “Can you open the file where you found this?” She looked up at his face to find his stare riveted to her mouth.
A small bubble of awareness ran through her body and was gone just as quickly when he yanked the laptop toward himself. With a few more taps on the keys, he pulled up a file folder that contained only one item—the cryptogram.
“The answer’s not in this file. I’m not surprised. He wouldn’t keep the solution and the puzzle in the same place.”
“But you can figure it out?” He shifted. Each move of his muscles released more of that piney scent to her senses.
She met Con’s expectant stare. “We need to know more about this guy. It will help me figure out how to go about unlocking the puzzle.”
His dark eyes glinted like obsidian, hard and flinty. “We need to get him in for questioning.”
* * * * *
Con pushed off the desk. “I have to make a call. You stay here and see what you can figure out about the cryptogram.”
Sophie was already so absorbed in staring at the screen that she didn’t even flutter an eyelash at his departure. When he walked out of his office, he automatically listened for sounds in other parts of the house. With twenty-three bedrooms spread across several wings, his teammates could be anywhere.
He caught the rumble of voices coming from the kitchen, then heard the sizzle of something hitting a hot pan.
When they weren’t on a mission, they all took turns cooking dinner. He racked his brain to recall whose turn it was. Maybe Henner—aka Chickie. He hoped it wasn’t Mason. The man’s skills on the battlefield were impeccable, but when it came to wielding a spatula, he could use some work.
Con stepped into an empty room that hadn’t been claimed for any special purpose yet and closed the door. He placed a brief call to Commander Barrett.