Please, she thought, let Jed catch this guy so I can begin.
Not until she’d closed the barn doors again did he break the silence. “I’ve checked out all the men who asked you out, the ones whose names you remember.”
“Do they know you were looking at them?”
“Rob Fullerton is the only one I actually spoke to.”
She stopped. “Why?”
The motion-activated light on the peak of the barn roof abruptly went off, plunging them into darkness but for the glow from the living room windows and porch light. The darkness made her more conscious of the texture of Jed’s voice. Rough and yet soft at the same time, he could arouse her with a few words when he turned to her in the middle of the night.
“Fullerton has a bad temper. He had a dishonorable discharge from the army, if that gives you an idea.”
Linette shuddered. She hadn’t even considered agreeing to a date with Rob, but he was a good-looking guy and she might have if she hadn’t written men off altogether. To find out he was so like Theo…
“You really don’t think the cattle rustlers are behind what’s been happening here.” She hadn’t known she was going to ask again until the words were out.
“No,” Jed said flatly.
Was she being a fool not to tell him about Theo? It made no sense to think he’d come after her, but the casual cruelty displayed by the man who’d driven a foal – a baby – out in front of an on-coming vehicle to die was something she could see Theo doing. Lacking any conscience, as she had eventually realized, he had enjoyed small acts of cruelty, from a vicious word to a hard kick. She’d been in the relationship with him for a couple of months before she noticed he had no real friends, and that what he wanted most from her was complete obedience to gratify his irrational need for control.
No, she didn’t like Jed finding out how many apologies she’d accepted from Theo before she gathered her courage to leave him, but…it would be good to know for sure that he was back in Atlanta where he belonged.
Probably abusing another woman.
Only then did she realize that she hadn’t resumed movement, and that Jed waited patiently a few feet from her, so still she was reminded that blending into any environment was as natural to him as breathing was to her. He had some help just now, though, as she’d come to a stop in the darkest place in the yard, beneath one of the spreading oak trees.
“I think maybe you should look for Theo, the man I lived with for a while after…” After you. “I don’t see him looking for me now. I told you, it’s been years, except… I don’t know, but I think he might be a genuine sociopath. Hurting people amused him.”
Jed didn’t appear to have moved a muscle, but her skin prickled as she felt his rage wash over her.
“What’s his last name?”
His voice was so quiet, so uninflected, Linette knew she was right about his reaction.
“Theodore Darcy Willis. He lives…lived in Smyrna last I knew, but since he was in an apartment…” She shrugged.
“I’ll find him,” Jed said curtly.
“He was a mistake.” She had to talk to his back, since he was walking away. Having to scurry after him because she was afraid to be out here in the pleasantly cool night air by herself made her mad at him all over again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Hyper-aware of Linette in the kitchen, doing some last cleanup, Jed sat at the dining room table with his laptop to do the research.
Logging in and out of law enforcement databases, it didn’t take Jed fifteen minutes to learn enough about Theo Willis to make him sick to his stomach.
He very carefully closed the laptop. Almost immediately, Linette appeared in the open doorway, her face pinched. Sounding tentative, she asked, “Did you find…?”
“He’s on the run, Linette. Wanted for murder.”
What little color her face had retained drained away. She gripped the doorframe. “Murder?”
Jed struggled to rein in his emotions. This wasn’t time to tell her how he had felt, reading about the damage that asshole had done to her. To know now how much worse Theo Willis might have done. Or wanted to do now.
“I’ll call the investigator in the morning.” To his ears, he sounded eerily calm. “There was a domestic abuse call to his apartment one evening. The next day, his boss called him in to fire him. The two of them were alone in the construction trailer. He strangled her, went back to his apartment and killed the girlfriend, too, packed up and left. They’ve been unable to locate him.”
“Oh, dear God.” She stumbled forward and almost fell into a chair across the table from him. “I never dreamed—”
“Maybe you should have, Linette.” Was it fear or fury that had leaked into his voice? “Did you ever think of calling me?”
Her spine visibly stiffened and her head came up. “Why would I have?”
“Because you must have known I could take care of that son-of-a-bitch,” he snapped.
She stood, completely steady now. “You hurt me more than he ever did, Jed.” After a pause, she said, “Goodnight,” and walked out of the room. A moment later, he heard her footsteps on the stairs.
Jed didn’t move for a long time.
*****
A cluster of young men walk down the road toward the village. They talk animatedly amongst themselves, gesturing. Dust kicks up with every footstep. They circle a crater that an IED had opened to one side of the road. One points and they all laugh.
Jed’s finger tightens infinitesimally on the trigger. He knew two men who died in that explosion.
His attention is tugged to a woman – presumably a woman – trailing well behind the men. He can tell almost nothing about her, since she wears an niqab over an all-enveloping black abaya. Although much of her face is hidden by the veil, he might see her eyes if she weren’t looking down. But she walks steadily, never lifting her gaze. None of the men look back. They are at the most arrogant of ages. A mere woman may be invisible to them.
He shifts his view through the rifle scope between the men and the woman. She makes him uneasy. She carries a bundle – probably food or clothing – but he can’t tell. He and Barry debate, just above a whisper that is probably not necessary given that they are six hundred yards from the road and have excellent cover between two sandstone abutments. If someone knew to look with high-powered binoculars, they might be seen, although that is a risk they often take.
They have been here for four days now, with few breaks, trading between sniping and spotting. The sun beats relentlessly down on them. Now the tension rises because a convoy is to use this road today. Bombs and attacks have made this stretch exceptionally dangerous. Almost impassible. His operation order is very clear.
“Forty-five minutes,” his spotter murmurs.
The young men break up when they reach the village, going their separate ways, all eventually disappearing into various mud-colored houses. None are armed, that he can see. They appear carefree, although that can be deceptive.
The woman’s head lifts when she realizes she’s alone. The narrow strip between the naqib that covers her lower face and the black cloth wrapping her head shows too little for him to be sure she isn’t a man hiding a bomb beneath the abaya – or not hiding it at all, if it is wrapped in the bundle.
She now fills his field of view, eliminating any awareness of his sweat or stench or hunger. His mind already works through the engagement sequence because his subconscious has sent the message that she is a threat, though she hasn’t yet presented as one.
Despite the muffling effect of the naqib, he shifts the crosshairs from her chest to her head. He prefers the kind of shot that will drop her in place, allowing her no time to trigger a device or even shout.
She stops. Sinks to her knees.
“Fuck.” Barry.
Nobody likes shooting a woman.
She almost falls forward to all fours, seems to push the bundle toward a pothole. Nobody else is visible in either direction on the road.
He pulls the trigger.
She drops.
Barry is already scrambling back, but he doesn’t move even as people come running from the village. One of the first to arrive is another woman. She trips over the bundle, which falls apart and reveals itself to be nothing but clothing.
One of the men rolls her to her back. That is when he sees what her abaya hid.
His mouth opens in a shout—
*****
The light Linette had turned on in the hall let her see Jed sitting up in bed, the quilt pooled below his waist. He stared straight ahead, horror on his face. She wasn’t sure he was awake.
“Jed.”
He didn’t move. He was naked from the waist up, every muscle standing out, locked in tension.
“Jed.” She hurried to the bedside. “Wake up. Please. Wake up.”
His head turned toward her, his eyes colorless and yet searing. Did he see her? Or only whatever monstrous memory had come to him in his sleep?
Stopping next to the bed, she started to reach out but was afraid to actually touch him.
“I…I heard you yell, and I wanted to be sure you’re okay. Maybe you have nightmares all the time, but if it’s because of what’s happening here, I’m sorry.” Oh God, she was babbling. “Um, will you say something? You’re scaring me.”
He blinked a couple of times, groaned and flopped back against the pillows. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I don’t usually—”
“Have awful dreams?”
“Make any noise.” He rolled his head, shoulders, relaxing his fingers with seeming deliberation.
She hadn’t seen his bare chest in five years. If anything, he was now more perfectly sculpted, although she couldn’t imagine him lifting weights in front of a mirror or anything like that. His muscles were purely functional, never intended for show.
She wasn’t at his bedside to gawk, Linette told herself severely.
“You didn’t use to have nightmares,” she said.
His head turned. “I did. I never wanted you to know.”
The reminder of the many ways he’d shut her out felt like a knife sliding between her ribs. She nodded.
“Don’t look like that.”
“Like what?” she asked, trying to school her expression.
“As if—” His mouth thinned, but he continued, “I hurt you.”
“You didn’t have to hide from me,” she said honestly. “I would have loved all of you.”
He flinched. “I…didn’t believe that. I wasn’t even sure—” He didn’t stop quite soon enough.
“That you wanted me to,” she finished, hoping her bitterness hadn’t leaked into her voice. “I got that.”
He scrubbed his hand over his face. “You don’t understand.”
Suddenly weary, she said, “It doesn’t matter, Jed. What’s done is done. I’ll let you sleep—”
His hand caught hers before she could back away. “Wait.”
Not moving at all, she whispered, “Wait for what?”
“I don’t know. Will you stay for a minute? Maybe sit down?”
There was something in his voice she’d never heard. Not quite a plea, but…close? And…sit on the bed right beside him? He wouldn’t be completely naked, would he? No, surely he’d wear at least boxer shorts in case something happened.
What had ever made her think she could resist Jed Dawson?
Hesitantly, she sat, tucking one foot under her so that she could face him. She wished she could see him better, but didn’t reach for the lamp. He looked away for a minute as if he didn’t know what to say.
But he was the one who’d asked her to stay. So she asked, “Are your nightmares always about things that happened when you were deployed?”
He surprised her by answering. “Mostly. I have recurring dreams.” He frowned a little. “I always have.”
“Really? And you remember them?”
The sound he made wasn’t a laugh. It was too pained. “When you have the same one enough times, you remember.”
“Was tonight’s one of those?”
His chest rose and fell with a long breath. “Yeah.”
“Will you tell me about it?”
His eyes were a darker blue than usual, clouded rather than piercing. “Why do you have to know?” He was trying to suppress his anger, but it seeped through.
Apparently, he could go only so far.
Still, she tried. “It might help if you talked about it.” Then she felt dumb. “Well, you probably have with friends.”
Time to go. She shifted her weight in preparation for standing up, but didn’t get any further before his hand caught hers. “No,” he said hoarsely. “We don’t talk about what we did or saw. Nobody wants to.”
Staying completely still, Linette absorbed that. Was it just a man thing? Or was living with bad memories easier if you never aired them out? She certainly didn’t like thinking about her stepfather or, worse, her mother.
Jed’s hand tightened. “What are you thinking?”
“That maybe I’m a hypocrite, because there’s something I never talk about, either.”
“Would it help if you did?”
She was the one to avert her face this time. “I doubt it.”
Very quietly, he said, “I will if you will.”
She gaped at him. “You mean that.”
Voice low, he said haltingly, “I’m…trying, Linette.”
Did he really want her back? Could she believe that? Had he changed enough… She didn’t want to finish that thought.
Oh, why not tell him? It had happened a long time ago. This could be a sort of test. Would he really reciprocate?
“My stepfather sexually molested me.” It wasn’t so hard to say after all. “He was good to me until I started getting a figure. I was thirteen the first time he…touched me.”
Good to me. She’d had to use those words?
“Son of a bitch.” Jed’s hand had tightened until it was nearly crushing hers. “Did he rape you?”
“Yes. Yes! Only a few times.” She had to take a moment just to breathe. “I broke his nose, and then I ran away from home.”
“You were a street kid?”
“Not for long,” she said bitterly. “The police picked me up and brought me back. He never did it again, but I had to live four more years at home always thinking he would. Listening for sounds at night. For a long time, I braced a chair under my bedroom doorknob.” The confidence she’d felt as an adult had evaporated all too quickly when she realized someone had been in her house while she slept.
“Jesus,” Jed whispered. “The police officer didn’t believe you?”
“I didn’t tell him. The only person—” No, that was the worst part.
But of course Jed guessed. “You told your mother.”
“She wouldn’t even look me in the eye. She kept saying, ‘I don’t believe you. Why are you making this up? He’s been good to you!’”
Of course Jed caught the repetition. He swore again. “I guessed there was something, but…” He shook his head. “No wonder you’ve given up on men.” He sounded…sad.
Didn’t he get it? It wasn’t men she’d given up on, it was everyone. She had no basis for trust.
He had even less, she suspected. He’d admitted to having grown up in a series of foster homes. At least she’d had the early years. The memories of her father, faded but not completely forgotten, of the days when she had a child’s certainty that her mother loved her. Yes, even the first few years when she’d seen how hard Lloyd was trying to gain her trust.
Some of that had proved to be untrue: her mother’s love had limits, and Lloyd had likely been grooming her to be his victim. Or maybe not. She’d never know.
Still. She had a bedrock that Jed didn’t.
“Your turn,” she said flatly.
&n
bsp; “God.” He contemplated the ceiling. “I’ve killed a lot of people.”
“I…assumed you had.”
“Sometimes I had a specific target. All I had to do was identify him and—”
Blow his head off. That was what he didn’t want to say, wasn’t it?
“Sometimes it wasn’t that clear-cut. We had to make snap judgements. I made mistakes. This nightmare…” He swallowed. For once, his usually impassive face held desolation. “I shot a woman in an abaya. Those are robes—”
“I know what they are.”
“We couldn’t always be sure that what we saw was really a woman. The robes made an effective disguise for a man carrying weapons or a bomb.” He waited until she nodded. “This time, I thought she was placing an IED in a hole in the road. She knelt—“ He did nothing but breathe for a minute. “One of our convoys was due in less than an hour to take that route.” His fingers dug into her hand. Even in this light, the knotted muscles in his jaws showed. “I shot her.” He said it as if he felt nothing. “As she fell, she dropped the bundle in her hands. It was just clothes. People came running from the village up the road. One of them rolled her onto her back.” He hesitated. This had to be the bad part. “I saw her belly. I’d just shot and killed a pregnant woman. She must have been nearly due. Of course, I killed her baby, too.”
“Oh, Jed,” Linette whispered. She scooted nearer to him on the bed. “You were doing a job.”
He grunted. “Is that an excuse? How am I supposed to forgive myself for that, Linette? Is it even possible?”
“Do you know how much I hated whoever decided to make you be a sniper?” she exclaimed passionately. “Were you chosen only because you were a good shot? Did they ever think about what they were doing to you?”
“We were at war. Soldiers kill. Why not me? Why pick someone else instead? I was good at what I did.” He said that with loathing so terrible, it had to be the acid that ate at him from deep inside.
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