Logan did the same with his books, but nothing fell out of any of the books, and no hollowed-out insides provided any surprises.
“It sounded promising.” Slumping back against the couch, Logan thumbed through one of the books. His brow furrowed and he sat up straight, clutching the book with both hands.
Goose bumps rippled across her flesh. “What is it?”
He flipped through the book, stopping every few pages to jab his finger at the margins. “Did Gil always make notes in books when he read?”
“Notes? These are fantasy and sci-fi books, not Shakespeare.” She scooted closer to Logan, her thigh pressing against his. “What do you see?”
He flattened the book on his lap and skimmed the tip of his finger down a page, reading the margin note and then flipping to another page to read another note. “‘Making tamales after Luisa’s graduation. Bobby crashing Ricardo’s bike. The pink blanket with kittens.’ Does any of that mean anything to you?”
Lana put a hand to her throat when Logan read the last note, the heat rising from her chest scorching her fingertips. “L-Luisa and Bobby are two of our siblings. These are events from our lives. Why did he write those things throughout the book?”
Logan held up the book and shook it. “Lana, this is it. This is Gil’s journal—and he’s written it in code—a code only you would understand.”
Chapter Seven
“Oh, my God. That’s totally something Gil would do.” Lana grabbed a book she’d discarded earlier and started to flip through the pages. “He’s written more notes in this book, too, almost like a personal history—but I don’t know what he means. I don’t understand this.”
“It’s all right.” Logan smoothed a hand down Lana’s rigid back as if to soothe an agitated cat. “We’ll figure it out, but I think I’m right. Why else would he write random things like this in the margin of a book?”
“I don’t know.” Lana jumped up and wandered to the window. “Why would he expect me to catch onto this?”
Logan paged through the rest of the books while Lana paced the room. “Five books. He’s written in five of the books—the same kinds of notes in all.”
“Why would he do that?”
“For exactly the reasons we’ve seen—to hide his journal. If he’d kept a regular journal, it would’ve been long gone by now. Even if he’d written in the books without using code, someone could’ve discovered that.”
“Why did he put this on me?”
Logan dumped the books on the table and met Lana on her next trip around the room. He grabbed her trembling hands. “He probably did it for himself, Lana. He didn’t know he was going to die at that outpost. He wrote it in this code for himself, to protect himself and to protect the information he gathered. The fact that he masked it in terms that only a family member might understand was just further protection.”
“Me, not any other family member—just me.”
Logan cocked his head. How could she know that? Then he shrugged. “He was closest to you, right?”
“We were the two afterthoughts. Our other siblings are much older.”
“I didn’t realize you two had other siblings.”
“Four.”
“What?”
“Four more. Gil and I have four older siblings.”
“Wow. Well, he chose you and the method is brilliant.”
“So brilliant, I don’t have a clue how to solve it.” She pulled her hands away from his and covered her face. “I’m going to fail him all over again, just like everyone else failed him—the marines for sending him there, the government for its secrecy, our congressman, even the military who was close enough to render aid and didn’t. You know there were units who could’ve helped but were never sent in?”
“I—I heard that.” Logan’s eye twitched. “We’re not going to fail him this time, Lana. We’ll figure it out. All we need is a start, some verification that this is real. Then we might be able to turn it over to people who break codes for a living. They could decipher the rest.”
“Can’t they do it now?” She split her fingers and peered at him through the cracks. “Can’t we just turn these books over to the code breakers and have them figure it out?”
“We would need some proof first. Then they’d need your help for the rest. They would need to understand what the events mean—only you know that.”
“If this is all true, the people after this journal wouldn’t understand it even if they got their hands on it, even if they could crack the code. Am I right?”
He leveled a finger at her. “They’d need you.”
“Oh, Lord.” She spun around and made a beeline for the kitchen. “Is it too early for a drink?”
As she swung open the fridge door, Logan returned to Gil’s fantasy books and stacked them back in the box. “We’ll have to make copies of these pages or scan them. These books can’t be the only record of Gil’s journal. If someone breaks in here and steals this box, we have nothing—even if they don’t know what they have.”
Lana returned carrying two bottles of beer. “I think we deserve these after what we’ve been through today.”
“Cheers.” He clinked the long neck of his bottle with hers and took a gulp of beer. “What’s the best way to get a copy? We could take a picture of each page with your phone. That would be easier than scanning each one.”
“Your phone. Mine’s been confiscated.”
“True.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “We should start right away. I don’t want this slipping through our hands.”
“We don’t even know where to start. Which book contains the beginning of the journal? What order are they in?”
“That’s not important right now. We need to preserve the pages, duplicate them. We can always rearrange them later.”
“Do you want to get started now?”
“I suppose so.” He lifted an eyebrow in her direction. “Do you want to start working on the code now?”
“I’d love to, but I told you I don’t have the slightest idea what it all means.” She scooped up the books from the box and carried them to the kitchen table.
He joined her and grabbed the book on the top of the pile. “Let’s start working on this methodically. Do you have a spiral notebook or a legal pad?”
“I think I can dig one up. Why?”
“You can start by going through each book and writing Gil’s phrases in order, at least from each book. Then start looking for connections or patterns—months the events occurred, any special meaning associated with them, and so on. Codes are usually based on numbers. Does that make sense?”
“I guess so. You’ll be taking pictures of the pages in one book while I go through the pages of another?”
“Teamwork.” He held out his fist for a bump and she touched her knuckles to his.
As Logan flattened out one of the books on the table, she went in search of a notebook. She found one in a desk drawer under a pile of odds and ends and brought it into the living room, where she sat cross-legged on the couch with one of Gil’s books.
A smile touched her lips as she scribbled the nonsensical clues onto the pad of paper. Gil had recorded some of the silliest moments of their childhood, moments she would be sure to remember because they’d discussed them enough times over the years.
Their hardscrabble childhood in Salinas hadn’t been all bad, but they’d spent so many years dealing with the effects of Dad’s alcoholism. Sibling after sibling had escaped the too-small clapboard house with the dripping faucets and the faulty water heater until only she and Gil had remained. Even Mom had bolted in the end, using abuelita’s illness as an excuse to leave the husband who was never able to lift her out of poverty.
Finally, Dad had gotten sober and had taken the job with his old friend, McGowan. She’d followed him here later—it had been inevitable.
&n
bsp; “Those notes must mean something to you.”
“What?” She jerked up her head and rubbed her eyes.
“I’ve been watching you for the past several minutes, and a whole range of emotions just played across your face.” He dropped his voice and almost whispered. “But it all seemed to end on a sad note.”
“Sad?” She twisted her hair around her hand. “It all just makes me think about Gil. We have to do this for him, Logan. And for Major Denver.”
“I agree.” He held up the book he’d been photographing. “One down, four to go. Anything strike you?”
She stretched out her legs and wiggled her toes. “Just the realization that my whole life has been a series of one haphazard event after another—no actions on my part, just reactions.”
Logan turned his chair to face her and hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Maybe you should forget all this, Lana.”
“Forget?” She ran her fingertip along Gil’s words. “I can’t forget about Gil.”
“I’m not saying you forget your brother, but let him rest in peace. Don’t pursue this anymore. I’ll handle it. You go and make some different choices in your life starting now, choices based on what you want.”
“It’s funny, but for the first time in a long time that’s exactly what I am doing. This—” she held up the notebook “—is my choice.”
“Then we’ll carry on.” He reached for the ceiling and yawned. “I could use some food before attacking the next book, though. Are you hungry? We haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“My stomach just growled, so I guess there’s my answer.” She swept the book and the memories from her lap and pushed up from the couch. “Unless you want breakfast again, I don’t have much in the way of food to cook.”
“I can eat breakfast at any time of the day. I suppose calling for a pizza out here isn’t going to work.”
“Nearest pizza place won’t deliver to the ranch—too far.” Lana snapped her fingers. “I have an idea. Jaeger mentioned that Dale’s mother was watching the kids. I can beg some food from her.”
“Do you know Dale well?”
She turned away from Logan and bent over the couch, gathering her notes. “Yeah, I do.”
“Why the drinking problem? Did that start after she married Bruce?”
“It did. I’m not making excuses for her, but it can’t be easy being married to that guy.”
“No kidding. Cute kids though.”
Lana pasted a smile on her face and spun around. “Yes, they are. I’m so glad they’re safe.”
“So, how does one go about begging food from Dale’s mother? What’s her name?”
“Alma. Alma Garcia.”
“How do we hit up Alma?”
“Since the police have my phone and I don’t know Alma’s number by heart, we’ll have to walk over to the ranch and make our case.”
Logan put his hands together and raised his eyes to the ceiling. “I’m good at begging.”
“Hummph.” She grabbed her jacket from the back of a kitchen chair. “You’ve probably never begged for anything a day in your life.”
He dropped his gaze, meeting hers, and his nostrils flared. “Don’t be so quick to judge, Lana.”
“You’re right. Sorry.” She swung open the door and a cool blast hit her hot cheeks. “I’ll let you do the begging.”
As they walked to the big house, Logan asked, “Do you think Bruce will be back from the hospital?”
“I don’t know. I’d never seen him as rattled as he was when he took Dale out of my truck.”
“Maybe he finally realized his wife didn’t set up her own abduction to score a weekend away.”
“Maybe he did.” Lana climbed the two steps to the McGowan front door and rang the doorbell.
Alma opened the door, a frown already creasing her brow, giving her the same worried look she always had whenever she encountered Lana. “Hola, Lana. Qué pasó?”
“Nothing happened, nothing’s wrong, Alma, except for Dale being in the hospital.” She gestured to Logan. “This is my friend, Logan Hess. Logan, Alma Garcia.”
“Ma’am, nice to meet you.” Logan took Alma’s hand and laid on the Texas charm. “Everything’s fine except my stomach is rumbling something fierce.”
Lana put a hand over her mouth and rolled her eyes, but Alma proved to be no match for Logan’s wiles.
“Oh, you poor boy. You don’t go to Lana’s house when you’re hungry.”
“Abuela?” Carla had crept down the stairs and now hung on the banister at the bottom, her big, dark eyes wide until they focused on the two people on the porch. Her face broke into a smile. “Hi, Lana. They found Mama.”
“I know, sweetie, and she’s going to be just fine.”
Alma’s body stiffened. “Carla, did you finish your homework?”
“Almost. Can I stay down here with Lana and her friend?”
Alma shot a quick glance at Lana. “Of course. I’m just going to get them some leftovers.”
“Ah, you’re an angel.” Logan pressed a hand over his heart.
“Follow me.” Alma crooked her finger. “No Mexican food, but I made pasta tonight and there’s plenty left over. Dale is still in the hospital and Bruce is with her.”
“How is she?” Lana put her hand on Alma’s arm while smoothing Carla’s hair back from her forehead.
“She’s fine, no permanent damage. She’s coming home tomorrow and then...” Alma trailed off as she opened the door of the large fridge.
“Then I’m sure Bruce will keep her safe.” Lana dragged a stool up to the large butcher-block island in the center of the kitchen, and then pulled Carla between her legs as she started fixing her ponytail.
Logan wedged a hip against the island, pointing to the containers in Alma’s hands. “Do you need some help?”
“No, thank you.” She stacked the plastic containers on the counter. “I’m going to give you everything. I already fed Humberto and his sidekick.”
“We don’t need all of that, Alma.”
“Speak for yourself.” Logan rubbed his hands together.
Lana punched Logan’s rock-solid bicep, which almost broke her hand. She shook it out. “Won’t Bruce need something to eat when he comes home tonight? There are enough leftovers here to feed the family tomorrow night, too.”
Alma waved one set of stubby fingers at her. “Bruce is staying at the hospital with Dale tonight. He’s a changed man, Lana, really, and Dale, too. You’ll see.”
“I’m sure they are.” Lana wrapped Carla’s ponytail around her hand. “How about you, Carla? Are you okay? That must’ve been so scary for you, and I know you stepped up to protect your brother.”
Carla twisted her head around and a sweet smile touched her lips. “It was scary, Lana, but now that Mama is back, it’s okay.”
“You’re right. It is.” Lana wrapped her arms around Carla and kissed the soft indentation of her temple. “Now you’d better do as your abuela says and finish that homework.”
She begged for two cookies from her grandmother and then scooted out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
“She’s a good girl.” Alma shook out a plastic bag and started to put the containers inside.
Logan grabbed the next one from her hand. “I’ll do this. I really appreciate it.”
Placing her hands on her ample hips, Alma tilted her head. “Lana doesn’t cook much, but she could learn. I could teach her.”
“Thanks, Alma. I’m good.”
Alma wagged her finger in her face. “You know the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
A tingling flush crept up Lana’s chest, and she raised her hand to stop any more embarrassments coming out of Alma’s mouth.
Too late.
“Lana needs a good man. A man of her own.” Alma
jabbed Logan in the side. “A man and a family of her own.”
“Oh, God, Alma. Logan is not that kind of friend.”
“He should be, eh?” Alma narrowed her eyes, assessing Logan from head to toe.
When Logan’s face displayed a red tinge, Lana decided it was time to leave. “I think this is the price we have to pay for the food.”
“I don’t think it’s too high.” Logan peered into the bag loaded with Alma’s leftovers and sniffed.
Lana hopped from the stool and gave Alma a one-armed hug. “Thanks for the food...and the advice. I’m fine.”
When they got back to her house, Lana popped the lids of the containers. “Lasagna, fettucine alfredo, salad and some garlic bread. I hope you’re hungry.”
“I am. You heat up the pasta in the microwave, and I’ll serve the salad in a couple of bowls and stick the bread in the oven.”
Standing in front of her fridge, surveying the pathetic contents, Lana said, “I wish I had some red wine, but all I have are a few more beers.”
“That’s fine.” Logan reached past her to pluck a bottle of salad dressing from the door of the fridge. “Why is Alma so anxious to see you married off?”
She hunched her shoulders. “Just an older woman looking out for a younger one—in her own way.”
“I didn’t realize you were so close to Dale’s family.”
“Dale and her family were the first people Dad met when he moved here.” The microwave beeped and Lana retrieved the containers, steam rising from the cracks in the lid. “Pasta is ready.”
During dinner, Lana steered the conversation away from Dale and the kids and the ranch and even Gil’s journal. Instead, she peppered Logan with questions about Major Denver and what he and his Delta Force teammates had discovered so far—and she got an earful.
“So, the powers that be already know the initial emails implicating Denver were fake, they know that he didn’t kill that Army Ranger or push his Delta Force teammate off a cliff and they know he wasn’t responsible for the bombing at the Syrian refugee camp. And they still believe he’s a traitor intent on compromising U.S. security?”
Enemy Infiltration Page 8
