Page 66 of Snow

Confirmed with Gulf Tide HR that all names you submitted are active employees currently assigned to the rig.

Nova read it again, her fingers tapping against the desk. So, this Capperson guy was still employed. According to their HR department, he should be here on the rig. So why had those two guys told Snow that Capperson was gone? And why was his personnel file missing from the cabinet?

She had been careful with her request, framing it as a routine verification, nothing specific about Capperson that would raise flags. But now the discrepancy gnawed at her.

She also struck out with the boat. There was no vessel named Delilah registered to Gulf Tide Ventures directly, or in their subsidiary holdings.

Behind her, she heard the door to Brett’s office open.

Nova looked up as the door swung open and Brett emerged with his phone pressed to his ear.

“Tell Brewer not to touch anything else. I’m on my way now,” he said into the phone.

She watched as he pulled the door shut and locked it before pocketing the key.

On his way past her desk, still barking orders to whoever, he caught her gaze and winked.

Nova waited until the heavy door clanged shut behind him before she rolled her eyes.

She turned back to her laptop, but the words on the screen blurred together.

Her gaze moved toward Brett’s office door. The barrier between her and whatever secrets he was keeping in there. But without a key, the door might as well be a wall.

Suddenly, Jay Bird’s voice filled her head. “Never assume a locked door means you’re not supposed to go in.”

At the time, she had laughed, insisting she would never have a reason to pick a lock. Apparently, life had decided to prove her wrong.

When she had successfully picked the practice lock, Jay Bird had gifted her a lock-picking set.

Her heart rate started to speed up as she thought about what she was about to do.

With Brett out of the office and dealing with something over at the other Platform, she had a little time to work with.

She picked up her backpack, reached into the front pocket, and pulled the small leather case out. She pulled the tension wrench and the hook pick from the case.

The walk to Brett’s office door was only a few feet away, but it felt like crossing an open field under sniper fire. She listened for any sign of anyone coming. But all she heard was silence.

She knelt before the lock, the tools trembling slightly in her fingers. She kept her body angled, blocking the view of her hands.

The tension wrench slid into the keyway as she recalled Jay Bird’s instruction.

Light tension. Like you’re holding a bird, not strangling it.

Next came the hook. Applying pressure with the wrench, she used the hook to probe for the pins. Feel for the pins. Don’t force it. Let the lock tell you what it needs.

She heard the first click. Pin one was set.

Sweat gathered near her hairline, and she wiped her forearm across her brow.

The next three pins soon clicked into place, only one more to go.

Her shoulders ached from the hunched position. Somewhere below, a door slammed. Nova froze as she heard footsteps, but they faded as the person walked away, not up toward the office.

She returned to the lock. But the last pin refused to budge. She tried different angles, varying pressure, frustration mounting with each failed attempt. This was stupid and reckless.

The tension wrench slipped. “Shit!” She blurted out as she reset the pins and started again.

The first four pins clicked into place, but the fifth one held again. She could feel it, but it was being stubborn. She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath.