Code of Valor

by Lynette Eason

  “Why didn’t you have an abortion?” She gaped and he held up a hand. “I’m not saying that I believe that’s what you should have done, I’m just asking why not?”

  “Of course I thought about it.” She looked away for a moment. “But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Having that baby was part of my punishment, I suppose, is the way I looked at it. Giving that baby up? Well, that almost killed me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Once the baby was born, I went a little crazy. I just couldn’t deal with the pain of giving my child away, but I also knew there was no way I could raise her. My father was livid, drinking more than ever, hitting anyone that got too close. He told me to get out, to take the kid and go, that he wasn’t raising another brat.” Emily drew in a deep breath. Should she go on?

  “And?”

  “For the first time, my mother stepped in and said she wasn’t giving up her grandchild. My father punched her and just started beating her. I was afraid he was going to kill her, so I called 911. There must have been a police car nearby because it was there in less than thirty seconds. By this point, my mother had run out of the house. I was holding the baby and my father was going after Mom. He had a gun and was screaming that he was going to kill everyone.”

  “Let me guess. The cops shot him.”

  Emily nodded. “He refused to put the weapon down. He turned the gun on me and they shot him. Three or four times. He died instantly, they said.”

  “I’m sorry, Emily. I know I keep saying that, but I am.”

  “I know. And I won’t say it’s okay, but I’ve healed a lot from that night. I don’t know that I’ll ever fully be able to put it out of my mind, but I’m better.” She smiled. “So much better.” And each time she helped a young girl see that her life wasn’t over because of a trauma, it healed another piece in Emily’s heart. “My dad made his choices. His death is no one’s responsibility but his own. My mother’s never forgiven me for that night, though.”

  “She blames you for your father’s death.”

  “Yes. But, honestly, I’d go back and do it all over again if I had to.”

  “What happened after that?”

  “I remember walking back into the house and looking down at that baby’s sweet little face and thinking how she deserved so much more than me.” She sighed. “So, when my mom told me to get out, I left. And wound up living on the streets. I was there for a little over a year before Aunt Lucy tracked me down and talked me into coming home with her. She got me back into counseling and convinced me that I could rebuild my life.” She paused. “She fought for me. For the first time in my life, someone made me feel like I was worth something. That God had a plan for me and I could walk tall and be proud of who he’d created me to be.”

  “I love your aunt Lucy.”

  A laugh escaped her and she marveled at it. “I do too.”

  “Emily?”

  “Yes?”

  “Is Sophia really your sister?”

  A hiccupping sound that was a cross between a sob and a laugh escaped her. “No.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  They fell silent. “God seemed distant,” she finally said. “Like someone who only cared about good people but couldn’t be bothered with people who didn’t measure up. With people who messed up their lives so catastrophically. But Aunt Lucy was able to help me understand that everyone needs him. He’s not sitting up there waiting to crack the whip if we mess up, but rather he’s waiting for us to run into his arms and be comforted. I never had a dad like that, so it was really hard for me to wrap my head around the idea of it, even as much as I wanted to.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “But Aunt Lucy was like that, loving, accepting, and so eager to help me heal. When I finally put two and two together and realized her heart was like God’s, it was easier to accept that he truly cared about me and wanted to be the father I never really had.”

  “She sounds extraordinary.”

  “She is.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “Not too far from here. She’s in Franklin, Georgia. When she’s home. Right now, she’s on a twenty-eight-day cruise around Europe with some ladies from her church. They’ve been planning and saving for this for two years.”

  He gave a low whistle. “Nice.”

  “Indeed. And she’s safe. I don’t have to worry about someone trying to get her to get to me.”

  “So, what do you do to decompress? When the memories crash in and you can’t sleep?”

  “I work.”

  He laughed. “We’re a lot alike, Emily Chastain.”

  “Is that what you do? Work?”

  “Yes. And dive.” He drew in a breath and leaned back, pulling her with him. “It’s so peaceful down there. Not exactly quiet, but sometimes you can hear your heartbeat in your ears and you can just be you. No obligations, no worries. Nothing.”

  “Sounds lovely.”

  “It is. Especially in the Caribbean. But the lake has its positives too.”

  She tilted her head up to look at him from beneath her lashes. “I’ve always wanted to go diving. It looks so exotic.”

  “It can be.”

  “So let’s go sometime.”

  Brady grinned. “I was hoping you’d feel that way. That was one of the reasons I requested this particular safe house. Fortunately, I have all the equipment in my truck.”

  “Wait. What? Go diving? Here? Now?”

  “Sure.”

  “Is that safe? What if there’s a sniper or something out there?”

  “Already thought about that. We’ll go down and come up under cover of the dock, the boathouse, or the boat. Inside the boathouse, there’s a shallow point near the entrance. It would be perfect for a lesson or two. Then from there we can go under the dock and out into the deeper part of the lake with no one knowing we’re under—or when we come up.”

  She swallowed and frowned. “Uh . . . no . . . never mind. It was a stupid idea.”

  “No, it’s a great idea.”

  “I . . . I don’t have a bathing suit or anything. I can’t exactly wear my jeans. I’d freeze. And sink.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that. I came prepared. I had Mary Beth bring a dry suit with her.”

  “The Mary Beth who’s part of the security around here? Uh . . . no. I’ll pass, thanks.”

  Her eyes slid away from his. Tension ran through every part of her body. What was the problem?

  She stood. “I think I’m going to get my laptop and see if I can’t start gathering the information into some kind of coherent organization so we can share it with the investigative team ready to jump on whatever this is.”

  He frowned. “Emily—”

  She shot him a tight smile. “I’ll be in my bedroom. Thanks for not judging me.”

  “I wouldn’t. What happened to you was horrible and . . . and . . . well, there aren’t words for it. And it was in no way your fault. But I don’t understand why you’re running away from me now.”

  “I’m not running. I’m going to be productive. Sitting here whining about my past isn’t going to find Heather’s killer and stop a possible human trafficking ring. And that’s where I need my focus to be. Where we need our focus to be.”

  “It is, I promise.”

  “Good.” She walked away from him without looking back.

  Mary Beth stepped out onto the porch, hands in the pockets of the hoodie she hadn’t taken off since she’d gotten there. “Everything okay?” she asked.

  Brady studied the woman in front of him. Cheerleader pretty, tall, and built like a model. Realization hit him. He closed his eyes. “No, I’m an idiot.”

  She lifted a brow. “You’re a man. That’s a given.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Aw, I’m just kidding. You’re one of the rare ones. You’re not an idiot, but I’m guessing you did something dumb. What was it?”

  “You know how I told you to bring that dry suit?”
>
  “Yeah.”

  He grimaced. “Well, Emily shared some stuff with me.” No way was he saying what and betraying her confidence. “And she mentioned going diving. I told her I’d take her and said she could use the dry suit you brought. Only I didn’t say that it was a larger size than the one you wore. That the one you’d brought was an extra. And I think . . . well . . .” He cleared his throat. “I . . . um . . . guess that she thought I meant she could wear yours, and it embarrassed her because obviously you wear a smaller size than she would and . . .” He waved a hand and covered his eyes. “And I’m an idiot.”

  “Wow.”

  “Go ahead,” he muttered behind his hand. “Tell me what an insensitive louse I am. I can take it.”

  “You’re not a louse, Brady. But I can see why she’d be offended if she’s at all sensitive about her weight. So just go apologize to her and tell her if she wants to dive with you, there’s a suit that will fit her. When you described her in your text, I couldn’t figure out exactly which size to bring, so I brought three. One will fit.”

  He stood and hugged her. “You’re the best.”

  “I know.” She gave him a light shove toward Emily’s door. “Now, go grovel.”

  Brady mentally rehearsed his apology as he walked back into the house, down the hall, and to Emily’s door. He raised a hand to knock just as it swung inward.

  Emily gasped and stepped back, placing a hand over her heart. “Oh goodness, you scared me.”

  “Sorry.” He shifted, his mind blank, all of his rehearsing for naught. “I . . . uh . . . I came to apologize.”

  She frowned. “For what?”

  “For not explaining that there’s a dry suit that will fit you. Mary Beth brought three and said one of them will work for you.” He dipped his head and looked at her through his lashes. “That is, if you’ll still consider going.”

  She swallowed and looked away. “I’m working, but thanks for clarifying that you didn’t expect me to squeeze into one of Mary Beth’s suits.” He sighed and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry I’m so touchy. Talking about my past always brings out the worst in me.”

  “It’s okay. Why don’t you bring your computer into the kitchen and we’ll sit at the table and see what you’ve got from Heather?”

  Her shoulders relaxed. “Sure, I can do that.” She grabbed the laptop off the bed and followed him into the kitchen. “I need a water. You want one?”

  “That’d be great.”

  She snagged two and settled herself at the table. “I was getting ready to work when I decided I needed something to drink—and found you outside my door.”

  “I’m really sorry I was so thoughtless—in the effort to be thoughtful.” He sighed. “I’m not helping, am I?”

  “Forget it. It’s fine. I need to learn not to be overly sensitive.” She opened the laptop and he dropped the subject even though her shoulders had tensed up again. “Okay,” she said, “before I was snatched, I was updating the list of deposits made, the branch it was made at, and the times they were—” She gasped.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Text messages from Heather. They just popped up when I opened my iMessages.”

  18

  Todd Cavendish threw the phone onto the desk and stood to pace the length of the spacious office. “There’s got to be a way to find that boat,” he said. “If someone stumbles across it, everything we’ve worked for is ruined.”

  The other man in the wingback chair opposite the desk rubbed his chin. “I know, but we’ve exhausted every option. If you have any other suggestions, I’m ready to act.”

  “I’m thinking on it. I’ve got several ideas I’m weighing. We need the Chastain woman, Jeff. She’s our only hope.”

  “We had the Chastain woman. My mole got the information for you as to where she’d be, but you jumped into grabbing her way too fast.” His friend scowled. “That plan wasn’t well thought out at all.”

  “That was my plan,” he said.

  “I know that,” Jeff said. “I’m just expressing my opinion.”

  “Well, keep it to yourself,” he snapped.

  “Since when do I keep what I think to myself? We’ve been friends since childhood and you’ve never minded me telling you like it is.”

  He groaned. Jeff was right. On both counts. It had been a lousy, impromptu plan. And, he grudgingly admitted, he always wanted the man in the chair to speak his mind. “Whatever.”

  “‘Whatever’ is right. Anyway, she’s got so much protection around her, it’ll take an army to get to her. Her mother and sister are in protective custody as well.” He paused. “And I don’t think Emily knows where the boat is.”

  “What’s ironic is that my brother doesn’t know either and he’s the one who stole it—or had it stolen. I’m sure he didn’t do it himself.”

  “A fact he probably regrets at the moment,” Jeff said. He tapped his chin. “It’s possible that he knows what lake.”

  “Maybe. I’m not sure about that either,” Todd said. “Just keep someone following him. Eventually, he’ll send someone out there to search for it.”

  “He knows you’ve got people watching. He’s not going to make any move that would lead you to it.”

  “True. And he’s got people watching me.” A pause. “Which is how he knew Reuben passed the flash drive off to me.” He shook his head. “I don’t care about that. What I care about is, somehow that woman managed to outsmart our guys. Five of our best men.” He held up five fingers as though he needed a visual of the number. “Two of whom are dead, two headed for prison, and one in the wind. It’s the two in prison who worry me.”

  “They’re so low on the food chain it doesn’t matter. They were simply guns for hire and don’t know who hired them, so it’s not like they have any information to offer. And Hudson will show up when the coast is clear.”

  “Hudson’s okay,” Todd said. “He knows how to keep his mouth shut. I’m not worried about him, but I’d feel better if the other two were dead.”

  Jeff shrugged. “I’d feel better if your brother was dead.”

  “No. I don’t want him dead. I want him to suffer. And the only way to make him do that is to get that flash drive.” He traced the scar he wore from temple to chin and scowled. “We have a traitor in our midst. Someone helped my brother steal that boat. I want to know who it was.”

  “Trust me, I do too,” Jeff said. “And I’m working on it, but I’ve got to tell you, our traitor could be just about anyone on the payroll. You don’t exactly hire the squeaky-clean ones known for their loyalty.”

  Todd rubbed his eyes and swiped a hand down his scar once more. “Fine. Then we’re going to have to cut out the middlemen and take care of this ourselves.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  Emily leaned in and watched as the pictures continued to load. “They’re of a lake,” she said. “And look! A picture of a boat called the Lady Marie. That’s what they were after.”

  Brady raked a hand through his hair. “Can you zoom in and get the number off the side? We can figure out who it belongs to with that.”

  She tapped the picture and zoomed in. “SC-0123-BZ.”

  “Great. That means it’s registered in South Carolina.”

  “Shouldn’t be too hard to find who it belongs to, then, right?”

  “One can hope. Can you send me that one with the boat to my phone? I can forward it to David and see if he can pull the owner’s name and where the picture was taken. If Heather didn’t turn off her geotag option, we’ll be able to get GPS coordinates and know exactly where this boat is—or was since you said it sank. At least I think that’ll work.”

  “It’s worth a try.” She clicked a few keys. “There. You should have it now. But I can figure out where the pictures were taken. Maybe.” She clicked the keys while Brady sent the picture to David.

  Emily continued to scroll through the images.

  “It looks like she’s a good dist
ance away,” Brady said. “It’s hard to make out much.”

  “She probably took them with her phone.”

  “We can try to run some of these through facial recognition. How many different people would you say are there?” He leaned forward to squint at the screen.

  “All I see are four. Two at the front and two at the back—or at the bow and stern, I suppose I should say. I guess there could be more inside.” Emily leaned back and palmed her weary eyes. “They knew about these pictures. That’s why they killed her.”

  “And broke into her apartment. Probably looking for her laptop.”

  Emily opened the picture in the preview option and worked her way through the short steps to pull up the GPS coordinates. And got . . . nothing. She let out a groan. “She had the geotag option turned off.”

  “All right. We’ll send everything to David. He’s got way more advanced equipment and know-how than we do. If there’s any information on there, he’ll find it, as well as run those four through facial recognition. I think that might be a long shot, but it’s worth a try.”

  She sent all the pictures to Brady and he sent them on to David.

  “Which lake is this?” she muttered. “This is what they wanted. This is why they’re after me. They knew she sent me these.” Her voice rose. “But how? How would they even know to go looking for her? How would they know about the pictures?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know unless she showed them to the wrong person. Or someone spotted her taking them.”

  She frowned. “Heather’s phone was password protected. How would they get into it?”

  “She was on it during the 911 call, so it was probably open when she was attacked.”

  “And all her attacker had to do was pick it up and start scrolling. I suppose that’s when he realized that I might know something about all this and came after me.”

  “Yep.”

  “But they don’t know the location of the lake,” Emily said. “When Snake Man questioned me, he wanted to know which lake the boat went down on and was furious when I couldn’t tell him. Do you know where this is?”