Lifeline

by Christy Barritt

  “Am I sure that your fiancé is dead?” he repeated, his voice even. The man thought she was losing her mind. That was all there was to it. She might think the same thing if she didn’t know what she did, if she hadn’t seen the things she’d seen.

  She nodded, her throat scratchy, and the tremors that had begun in her hands migrating until her entire body shook. “That’s right.”

  He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and sucked in a deep breath. He was trying to be diplomatic, trying to measure his response. All professional, she thought with a silent, bitter laugh. Concealing how he really felt in an effort to placate her.

  Another round of tears washed through her eyes. She had to get a grip. She was usually so careful to control her emotions, to not appear weak in front of others. They’d only take advantage of you if you did.

  But how could she get a grip right now? She couldn’t, not until she had some answers. Ignoring her achy head and growling stomach, she directed a steady gaze toward Bradley to let him know she was serious.

  His jaw flexed, and he shifted his weight before answering. “I saw your fiancé during explosives training. I saw him go up in flames. I saw his body, half of his bones broken and skin burned to a crisp.”

  That was the story she’d heard also. But was there room for error there? Was there any possibility of a cover-up? “There was unaccounted-for time. From the moment you realized there was an emergency until the moment you reached him, the bodies could have been switched.”

  He blinked as if trying to conceal his real thoughts from her. “There was an autopsy.”

  “But how thorough was it? His fingerprints were nonexistent. Half of his teeth were broken from the impact, so how could you compare dental records even?” She nervously rubbed her loafers across the plush rug at her feet.

  Bradley’s gaze remained unwavering. “We were certain that the man we found was Darrell. We hated it as much as you did. He was one of our men, and there’s nothing worse than losing one of your own. As hard as that news might be to accept, as much as you might want to hold on to the hope that he’s alive, it’s just not possible.”

  Julianne shook her head. “No, you’re wrong. I don’t want him to be alive. But I’m afraid he is.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because he killed two people. And I’m afraid he might want to kill me, too.”

  TWO

  “So let me get his straight. Your fiancé is not only alive, but he’s trying to kill you?”

  Bradley had been trying to be levelheaded, fair-minded, and to offer at least a touch of compassion to the skittish woman sitting in front of him. But she wanted to confirm the death of her fiancé for fear he might be alive and dangerous? Normal, sane people didn’t think like that. Still, he knew what grief could do to a person.

  Grief had led him to an isolated existence. He poured every minute of his time now into his work and tried to avoid most social activities. Seeing other couples together reminded him too much of what he’d lost. His faith in God had been the only thing to get him through some dark days.

  He stared at Julianne another moment. He should have stuck to his meeting. Turned her away. But instead he’d forgotten his sensibilities and agreed to talk with her. Now what did he say? How could he send her on her way and, at the same time, suggest she get some professional help?

  She raised her chin, a measure of defiance kicking in. “I’m not crazy.”

  He didn’t know about that. The woman might be beautiful, but looks could belie lots of other problems. She appeared sweet and innocent on the outside, but what was going on in the inside? Crazy mental problems? Some kind of disorder? Blood trickled from her forehead. Had her fall affected her reasoning?

  A group of law-enforcement trainees chattered as they passed by on their way to the cafeteria. The week was packed here at Eyes between the various trainings occurring on campus and several high-level meetings concerning his project.

  He had to say something. He pulled his lips into a line before exhaling slowly. “I can assure you, Ms. Grace, that not only is Darrell dead, but he’s not capable of killing anyone in his present state—not even you.”

  She shook her head, another round of tears cascading down her cheeks. He grabbed a box of tissues and nudged them her way, resisting his urge to glance at his watch. He knew he was late for his meeting, and he didn’t see how he was ever going to tie up this conversation and get on with his job. Dealing with emotional women had never been his strength, nor was it even remotely in his comfort zone.

  “I’m not crazy.”

  Wasn’t that the first thing every insane person said? How could he possibly help this woman? “I didn’t say you were.”

  “No, but you’re thinking it.” Her eyes lit with fire. “I have to admit, I can’t even blame you. I know I sound crazy. But you haven’t seen or experienced the things that I have.”

  “Do you want to tell me about any of those things?” Now why did he have to ask that? Why was he allowing this woman to pull at his heartstrings?

  She leaned back, despair twisting her features. She sat silent in thought for a moment, as if running through her options. Finally, she ran a hand over her face. “Can I have that coffee first?”

  A chance to get away and clear his head sounded perfect. Besides, he had to call about rescheduling his meeting, as well as file an incident report since Julianne had breached their headquarters. All an enemy had to do was send a damsel in distress, he realized. What red-blooded male wouldn’t fall for that? “Absolutely. Do you take anything in it?”

  “No. Black is fine.”

  He walked briskly to the cafeteria area off the lobby. He bypassed the trainees in line and grabbed two mugs, filling them with piping-hot coffee. Not as good as the strong brews he’d had in the military, but it sufficed.

  What would the woman say now? Should he even attempt to set her straight? Or should he let her believe her lies and let someone else pop her deluded bubble?

  He didn’t know. In the end, he’d just have to trust his gut after he heard what she had to say. He paused by the cafeteria’s entrance, one eye on Julianne as he put a call in to his boss to let him know what was going on. Then he carried the ceramic mugs back into the lobby where he saw Julianne sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest. Her eyes had a far-away look about them, but the way she flinched as he approached made it clear she was on edge.

  Bradley set her coffee on the table between them. He watched as she raised the mug to her lips, her hands shaking so badly he doubted she’d be able to actually take a sip. He said nothing, though.

  He lowered himself back into the same chair. After Julianne had put the cup back on the table, he leaned toward her, trying his best to appear diplomatic and at ease. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking?”

  Her gaze seemed to grow more hollow by the minute. Was the woman on drugs? Or was she truly just scared senseless? She licked her lips before starting.

  “Two weeks ago, a man I know was killed in an auto accident. The circumstances surrounding his death were suspicious. There was no apparent reason for him to run off the road and hit a tree. No bad weather, no alcohol in his system, no cell phone in his hand. Nothing. By itself, that doesn’t sound strange. I know that.” She shivered and rubbed her arms. “But this morning, my boss didn’t show up for work. He’s never missed a day in the year that I’ve known him. When he didn’t call or answer his phone, I got worried and decided to stop by his apartment.”

  “Go on.” He took a sip of his coffee, needing an extra dose of caffeine right now.

  Her chin quivered. “When I got to his apartment, his door was cracked open. He didn’t answer, so I went inside. I found him. Dead.”

  He reserved his opinion on other reasons why the man could have died. Heart attack? Accident?
Dead did not mean murdered. “That must have been traumatic for you.”

  “Not as traumatic as seeing a seafood-flavored potato chips wrapper and an empty energy drink beside him.”

  Bradley bristled. He didn’t think the woman was making much sense, but he knew what she was getting at. Darrell had loved both of those treats, and it was rare to see him without one or the other...or both. Still, he didn’t want to jump to conclusions. “What did you do?”

  “I got in my car and started driving. I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I ended up here.”

  “Why here? Why me?” Instead of the police? He didn’t ask the last question. Not yet, at least.

  She rubbed her collarbone and stared at the fire in front of her, as if in another world. “I can’t go to the police and tell them that a dead man is trying to kill me. So I have to prove that he’s not dead. You’re the only person I could think of who could help me with that.”

  He swallowed, trying to formulate the best response, one that wouldn’t set her off in a tirade or into tears. “Two dead men—one supposedly accidental and one supposedly murdered—don’t mean your fiancé is alive.”

  “It’s more than that. I can feel him watching me. My gut is telling me that he’s still here, that he never died.” Her strained gaze met his. “You really do think I’m out of my mind, don’t you?”

  How did he answer that? Finally, he shook his head. “I think you’re scared.”

  She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a cell phone. The device trembled in her slender hands. “Today I got this.”

  Bradley took the phone from her and glanced at the text message on the screen. He read the threatening words.

  I did it for you.

  Then he saw the sender had left his initials: D.L.

  Darrell Lewis.

  Someone was playing with this woman’s head. The question was why?

  * * *

  Julianne’s gaze locked on Bradley’s as desperation for the truth caused adrenaline to surge through her veins. She swallowed, pressure welling in her—pressure not to fail, pressure to put that old part of her life behind her...so she might actually have some hope for her future.

  “Do you believe me now?” Someone had to believe her.

  But she hardly believed herself. Her story was crazy. She could acknowledge that. But her gut told her that something wasn’t right, and she didn’t have anything—or anyone—else to trust at the moment. She held her breath as she waited for Bradley’s response.

  Bradley didn’t blink, didn’t shift even. Instead, he stared back at her, his voice calm and controlled. “You should go to the police, Julianne. They’re probably looking for you now, anyway.”

  Her eyes widened, and she gripped the arm of the chair. “Looking for me? What are you talking about?”

  He waited a moment before responding, and when he finally spoke his words were maddeningly detached. “You fled the scene of a murder. Your fingerprints are probably going to be found there. They’ll want to question you.”

  “But I didn’t do anything!” Panic raced through her—again. She stood and began pacing the wood floor, the flames from the fire heating her skin as she strode back and forth.

  “I didn’t say you did. But that doesn’t mean the police won’t be looking for you.”

  She shook her head with more gusto than she thought she could muster. “I can’t go back. I can’t. But I don’t know what to do.” She let her head drop down toward her chest. In all honesty, she hadn’t really thought any of this through. Fear had propelled her to run, and the search for answers had led her here. To a man who didn’t believe her.

  A tree had more emotions than this stoic giant in front of her.

  She brushed off her jeans and pulled herself up to full height. She wouldn’t put herself at the mercy of someone who pitied her. She had more self-respect than that. “I appreciate you seeing me. I apologize for wasting your time.” She had to get out of here and figure out her plan B. She knew a dead end when she saw one, and Bradley Stone was just that.

  She sensed him standing as she walked toward the door.

  “What are you going to do now?” His deep voice reverberated through the room, all the way down to her bones.

  She turned toward him. “I’m going to keep looking. I can’t stop. I can’t live like this anymore.” She’d think about the logistics later, things like warmth, food, money and personal safety. She was strong and resilient. Somehow she’d get through this. She ignored the nagging doubts threatening to emerge.

  “Good luck.” His voice sounded solemn, as if he was speaking to someone facing near certain death.

  “Thanks.” She was going to need it. “How close is the nearest gas station?”

  He tucked a hand into his pocket. “Probably ten, fifteen miles. Why?”

  “Because that’s where I’m headed.” She shivered as she thought about walking that desolate stretch of road again.

  He shifted. “That’s going to be a long walk.”

  “I’ll be okay.” She raised her chin, trying to appear stronger than she felt.

  When she got to the door, Bradley called out to her again. “Wait. I’ll drive you.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” Fear had propelled her to come here, but now she was coming to her senses. This had been a bad idea.

  He caught up with her in three strides, and his hand went to her elbow. “Yes, I do.”

  “I don’t want your pity, Commander. I don’t want anyone to placate me. I’ll walk to the gas station in the snow if I have to. It beats being ridiculed by a man who thinks he knows everything.”

  She jerked the door open when Bradley stepped in front of her, his hands raised in peace. “Look, I’m not trying to offend you. Your story is a bit of a stretch, though, even for the most levelheaded person.”

  He had a point. She couldn’t deny that. But that didn’t mean she had to put up with Bradley Stone and his infuriating condescension. “I thought you might help, but I was wrong. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  He blocked her again. “Don’t be so stubborn that you get yourself hurt.”

  “Darrell is dead. You said so. Therefore, I shouldn’t be in danger.”

  “Darrell or not, someone is threatening you.” His eyes softened. “Please, let me drive you to get some gas and then back out to your car. It’s the least I can do for the fiancée of one of my guys.”

  The thought of trekking down the lonely, deserted road as the sun began to sink below the horizon wasn’t appealing. In fact, the idea made shivers race across her skin. When she weighed her options—spend time with Bradley Stone or walk the road—the decision was harder than she’d thought it would be. But concern for her safety won out. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take you up on your offer...and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

  He spread the door open and waited for her to step outside into the frigid day. She should have worn a coat. She should have done a lot of things, but there hadn’t been time for that.

  Before she realized what was happening, Bradley pulled off his sports jacket and handed it to her. “Put this on.”

  She rubbed her arms, feeling the goose bumps there. “I’m okay.”

  “Don’t be stubborn. You’re obviously cold. Please, wear it.”

  She didn’t feel like arguing anymore, so she took the coat from him and pulled it over her shoulders. The material shielded her from the brisk wind that cut across the lawn, bringing with it a new scent, one that reminded her of a pine forest in the morning.

  Bradley’s cologne, she realized. The last thing she needed was to be drawn to the scent of someone who was a heartless figure of a man. She shrugged off her thoughts and climbed inside the vehicle. The sun hung low in the distance, temporarily blinding her.

  Bradley
slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. A moment later, heat blew through the vents. Blessed, glorious heat. Quickly, she tugged off the jacket and placed it in the seat between them. “Thank you,” she mumbled, remembering her manners.

  He said nothing, stoically putting the vehicle in drive and rolling toward the gate. The guard waved him through, and then silence pulled tight between them. What did Julianne expect? That they’d chat like old friends? Besides, what was there to talk about? The weather? Football? National security?

  “How’d you know I worked at Eyes?” Bradley’s deep voice snapped her from her thoughts.

  “I got a letter from Dawn Turner. It was an update on what everyone from the old team was doing now.”

  “A letter...?”

  “You didn’t get one?”

  He shook his head. “No, I didn’t. It actually said I was working at Eyes now? That isn’t exactly public information.”

  Julianne shrugged. “I have no idea. I just remembered that tidbit of information. So when I started wondering if Darrell was alive, I thought of you. At first, I thought maybe I’d find you so you could confirm he was dead. Then I decided I’d find you to prove that he might be alive.”

  “I know it’s not what you want to hear, Julianne, but there’s no way he could have survived that explosion. He was a smart man. He was brazen, sometimes to the point of stupidity. But he was a good SEAL.”

  The man had loved his job, worshipped it practically. Which made sense, since Darrell had an obsessive personality. The man had no fear, he didn’t care what people thought of him and he had a mean determination once he set his mind to something.

  Had he set his mind to killing her? If so, why?

  She cleared her throat. “A good SEAL or a loose cannon?”

  “Depends on who you ask.”

  “I’m asking you.”

  Bradley shifted, ever so slightly. “He could be a hotshot sometimes. I like to think he would have gotten that out of his system with a little more maturity.”