He stared at her, watching her reaction a little too closely. “Your car. It exploded when the mechanic started the engine.”
The color drained from her face. Why did things keep going from bad to worse? “My car exploded? How did that happen?”
“I’m hoping you can tell me.” Something in his gaze seemed to scream accusation.
She jammed her finger into her chest. “Me? What are you talking about? Why would I be able to tell you that?” The truth hit her, and blood rushed through her veins. “You think I did this? But that makes no sense. Why would I rig my own car?”
“No one said you did that.” His expression remained neutral, which made Julianne want to reach up and shake him until his real feelings came to the surface.
Instead, she shoved her hands into her pockets, just to make sure she didn’t do anything she’d regret. “You certainly implied it.”
He shifted again, his cold blue eyes never leaving hers. “Look, we’re working on developing some products that the enemy would love to get their hands on. We don’t rule anything out as a coincidence. You showing up here. Today. And with this crazy story...It would make anyone suspicious.”
She sucked in a deep breath, trying to think with a clear head. Impossible. Bradley lowered himself into a chair across from her, his eyes on her. They’d softened—just slightly. But she wasn’t sure if his gaze held compassion or pity. She didn’t want anyone’s pity; she knew that. “I don’t know what to say,” she finally muttered.
Bradley leaned toward her, his voice low. “Julianne, is someone making you do this?”
His words settled over her and, as his insinuations hit home, agitation ricocheted through her. “Making me do this? Are you serious? You think someone has a gun to my head, telling me to distract you from the task at hand...or they’ll kill me? Is that what you’re saying?”
“The thought did run through my head.” His voice remained even and steady, which only increased her agitation.
“Well, you’re the crazy one if you think I would do that.” Her voice rose in pitch, cracking every other syllable as emotions rose to the surface. “I came here because I thought I could trust you. I was wrong.”
She stood and stormed toward the door. Where she thought she was going, she had no idea. She had no car and, even if she started walking, she had nowhere to go. She just knew that she couldn’t stand here and be insulted.
“Julianne—” Bradley called her name, his voice softer than before.
She pretended not to hear him and continued marching forward, trying to draw back the tears that wanted to flood down her cheeks.
Tears showed weakness...and the last thing she wanted was to appear weak in front of the stone-cold commander.
Before she got to the door, a strong hand wrapped around her arm—not too hard, but hard enough that she stopped. “Wait. You can’t go.”
She jerked out of his grasp. “Watch me.”
“No, really, you can’t go. I promised the detective I’d take you down to the station.”
And for a moment she’d thought he was just being nice. She should have known better. His words echoed in her mind. I promised the detective I’d take you down to the station.
She stared at him accusingly. “So you’re actually going to march me down to the police station so they can arrest me? Well, I guess that shouldn’t surprise me. After all, you’re probably the one who told them that I most likely set that bomb up myself, hoping it would detonate when you got behind the wheel.” She frowned. “What sense does that make? If I wanted you to do that, why would I have busted out the windows? And who was in the woods shooting at us?”
“I understand that none of this makes sense. We just want some answers.”
She jammed her finger into her chest again. “I want some answers. That’s why I came here.”
“Why don’t we sort this out down at the station?”
She crossed her arms, hating herself for feeling so immature. “Fine.”
“Let’s go.” He gripped her arm and he steered her out the door and back into a different SUV—this one without bullet holes. She hardly knew what to say or what to think. Her mind whirled over the revelations as she pulled her seat belt across her shoulder and waist.
She still couldn’t believe her car had exploded. Had Darrell set that up after her car ran out of gas? It seemed unlikely. He would have had to be watching her all day—known that she’d discovered her boss’s body, known that she might run. Then he would have had to follow her and wait for just the right opportunity to rig her car.
Unlikely, but possible.
Darrell had been an “ultra-prepared” kind of guy. What if now he was ultra-prepared to stage an accident, to put others’ lives in danger?
Had the bomb been intended for her? Had he hoped to finally accomplish his original mission—that if he couldn’t have her, he’d make sure no one wanted her? Nothing made sense.
“What are you thinking?” Bradley asked as they began down the road.
“Why do you care?” There she went again, sounding like a brat. But how was she supposed to act when the man thought she could either be a criminal...or was being manipulated by a criminal?
With love, that was how.
Wasn’t that what the Bible taught? And didn’t she try to live by the Bible’s commands?
“I know I could have reacted better, but you’ve got to understand where I’m coming from. The timing of you being here is uncanny. Your story is...unexpected.”
He was being nice. And he had a point. If she put herself in his shoes, she could understand why her appearance had him off kilter. “I get it.”
“I don’t think you do. I don’t think you realize the scope of the project we’re working on. We’re on the precipice of some new technology that could revolutionize warfare as we know it. It will keep our soldiers safe. Safe is not what the enemy wants.”
Her throat burned. “You’re right...it’s not. But I assure you, my allegiance is to this country and not to the enemy. I even thought briefly after high school about joining the military myself.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I’m not exactly the commando type. My heart was really for helping the hurting, so I studied social work and counseling instead.”
“Noble callings within themselves.”
“I like it. I like helping others make sense of their emotions and their circumstances.” If only it were that easy to make sense of her own tumultuous life.
Alan had been trying to help her do that. She’d realized that she needed to deal with the effects of her relationship with Darrell. She’d tried to handle the fallout on her own but had done a lousy job with it. She still had nightmares. She still checked behind corners. She had trouble getting close to people.
She hadn’t always been like this. There was a time in her life that she’d loved being around people, that she’d loved immersing herself in life. But lately she’d found herself withdrawing into her own little cave and shutting people out.
She knew something had to change. She had no desire to live the rest of her life like this. She’d just started making some progress with Alan when... She shook her head. She couldn’t think about it.
Not now. There were so many other things to think about. None of them, however, were things she wanted to ponder. As they cruised toward the police station, she realized she had no choice in the matter.
FOUR
Bradley leaned against the reception desk at the police precinct. “We’re here to see Detective Spencer.”
The receptionist promised him that the detective would be right down.
Bradley glanced at Julianne as he went to sit in the plastic chair beside her. Her hazel eyes almost looked frantic. He wasn’t sure if the emotion was because she had instigated
the craziness or been the recipient of the craziness around them, though.
They waited, the minutes ticking by painfully slow. He could only imagine what might be running through the woman’s mind. She was scared...and she should be. Whatever was happening—and whatever side of it she found herself on—the danger was apparent.
A thirtysomething man with a receding hairline and round face stepped into the waiting area and introduced himself as Detective Spencer. Bradley kept a hand at her elbow as they followed him to his office. He wasn’t sure if the contact was to keep her standing or to make sure she didn’t run. Either way, his hand remained there, despite Julianne’s resistance to it. Yes, he’d noticed the way she tried to pull away, to nudge his hand off. He didn’t allow it.
In his gut, Bradley knew he wanted to believe Julianne. He didn’t know why, but he did. Maybe it was her wide, luminous eyes. Or her quivering voice. Or the sweet scene of daisies on a rainy day that drifted from her flowing hair.
Daisies on a rainy day? What had gotten into him? He sounded like a sap.
He was good at reading people. It had helped him survive. But right now he didn’t know if he was reading Julianne correctly, or if he was letting his heart get in the way.
Either way, he had to stay on guard.
He thought briefly about leaving Julianne here at the station and letting the police deal with her. But he couldn’t do that. He didn’t know what was going on or how Julianne was involved, but he did know that the woman needed someone right now. She looked as if she needed a good meal, a winter coat and a hug, too, for that matter.
Detective Spencer led them to a tiny office, making small talk along the way. Once inside the office, Julianne sat in a chair across from the detective’s desk. Bradley decided to stand behind her.
As the detective prodded, Julianne relayed the same story she’d told Bradley earlier. The detective took notes. Bradley watched as his eyes flickered in doubt as she mentioned the possibility of her fiancé still being alive and behind the attacks.
She finished and stared at the detective a moment. She licked her lips before whispering, “He...he wasn’t a nice man.”
What did that mean? What had Darrell done to her? Had he simply been rude and self-centered? Or did his abrasiveness come out in other ways—more damaging ways?
Anger simmered in Bradley at the thought. He’d seen his dad hit his mother on more than one occasion. Mostly she’d taken the hits so that Bradley wouldn’t have to. He’d been shipped off to foster care and, while there, his parents had both died in a house fire. All the evidence seemed to point to a cigarette igniting the bed in the master bedroom.
Later, at thirteen, Bradley had moved across country to live with an uncle he’d never met. It had taken time to adjust to the new family and the vast contrast between his old life and his new. But his Uncle Bill and Aunt Jackie had proven to be a great blessing in his life, showing him what love really looked like and teaching him about living out the Great Commission. His uncle had also been a SEAL and later a defense contractor. It was his influence that had led Bradley to where he was today. He still missed his uncle, who’d died three years ago from cancer.
Detective Spencer closed his notebook. “Ms. Grace, I’ve put in a call to the police up in Arlington about your boss and his supposed murder. I’ll need you to stay in town in case we have any more questions.”
Julianne swallowed hard. Bradley could see the action from his stance behind her, see how she tried to compose herself before nodding.
She had to stay in town. Jack had mentioned that maybe they should keep an eye on her—whether she was on their side or not. How would they do that? Where would she stay while she was in town?
There was a women’s shelter that one of his friends from church ran. Maybe Julianne could stay there for the night. Maybe he should just give her some money for a hotel.
Then he remembered the smashed car windows. The gunshots. The report of her car exploding.
He remembered the look of terror in her eyes, the tremble of her hands, the strain in her voice.
He didn’t intend for the words to leave his mouth, but he found himself saying, “I’ll make sure she sticks around.” He was getting in deeper than he intended to. Way deeper.
But he thought about what the Bible said about the least of these. If he didn’t help someone who needed help, was he any better than the rest of the world? And wasn’t he called to be set apart?
Julianne stood as Detective Spencer dismissed them. She paused in the doorway and dragged her eyes back to the detective. “How’s the mechanic doing?”
“He’s in critical condition. The explosion could have easily killed him. It’s a near miracle he’s alive. The shop is condemned, and two others employees had minor cuts and bruises. Overall, it could have been much worse, though.”
Her hand slipped over her mouth, probably to cover the O of horror that her lips formed. He didn’t need to be a detective to know that reality was hitting her hard. That Julianne could have easily died. Did someone who was working for the other side show that much concern about the people who’d been injured in the battle? He didn’t think so.
Just then, something buzzed in her pocket. With shaky hands, she pulled out her cell phone and flipped it open. She closed her eyes after reading something there.
“What?” Bradley stepped closer.
She said nothing, just handed him the phone. He read the words there.
Don’t make me keep doing this. It’s all in the name of love. With my utmost affection, Your One and Only.
Bradley looked at Julianne, and she nodded at his silent question.
The text message was from Darrell—or someone masquerading as Darrell.
Bradley drew in a long deep breath, realizing that he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t get to the bottom of this—and help Julianne.
* * *
Julianne stared blankly at the landscape as they rolled down the road.
Darrell still had the ability to manipulate her emotions as if they were putty. Guilt flooded through her. Though she knew on a logical level that nothing that had happened was her fault, her emotions swerved wildly between guilt and anger, apprehension and sorrow.
Bradley said very little beside her, and that was fine. She didn’t bother to ask where he was taking her. If worse had come to worst, she thought she could at least spend the night in her car. Now that wasn’t even an option.
But she wasn’t going to feel despair. She wasn’t going to let Darrell win.
Despite that, another tear rolled down her cheek. When would all of her emotion dry up? Why did she have to feel so weak?
She turned more fully toward the window, not wanting Bradley to see her. She blinked several times, trying to get her vision to clear. Finally, she saw sandy dunes and beach houses perched high on stilts. Beyond them, the ocean collided with the shore, the sand empty of its summertime visitors.
She still said nothing, asked nothing. What good would it do? They’d get to their destination, Bradley would drop her off and she’d figure out what to do.
Except that he’d promised to keep an eye on her. Just how did he plan on doing that?
The car stopped at an oceanfront house. Julianne soaked in the grand structure. Three levels. Mostly windows on the side facing the ocean. An interesting design with lots of angles and recesses and details. White-trimmed decks jutted out from the second and third levels. Neatly kept live oak trees surrounded the perimeters.
When he cut the engine, Julianne dared to look at him. “Where are we?”
He pointed to a door on the first level of the home. “There’s a small apartment there. Nothing fancy, just a living room with a pullout couch, a kitchen and a bathroom. You can stay there until this mess clears up.”
“Is this...yours?”
Just how much did they pay the man to work at Eyes? This home had to cost close to a million.
“It is. It used to be a rental property. The original owner kept an apartment on the bottom level so he could keep an eye on the place.” He climbed out, and Julianne followed suite. As soon as she stepped out, the breeze coming off the ocean assaulted her already-frigid skin.
She shivered before stepping around the corner and spotting the glorious blue of the ocean. For a moment, she forgot about the cold and was swept away by the water’s vastness. “It’s beautiful.”
“I like it.”
She scrambled behind him as he strode toward the apartment. He jammed a key into the lock and pushed open the door. At his insistence, she slipped inside, quickly glancing around at the minimal decorations and furnishings of the space. Not that she was complaining.
She looked back at Bradley, who stood in the doorway, allowing a biting wind to sweep over the tile floor. She cleared her throat, trying to remember her manners. “I really appreciate this, Command—Bradley, I mean. I know you don’t have to do this. I promise you, I won’t make you regret it. You’ll see.”
The look in his eyes showed doubt. Instead of acknowledging her gratitude, he pushed a key into her hand. “I’ll be working upstairs. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to let me know.”
After he disappeared, Julianne stared at the apartment around her, a place in desperate need of a woman’s touch. Everything was purely functional with no personality whatsoever. She found the thermostat and cranked the heat, which contradicted her need to open the windows and air the space out. Comfort won out over the stale smell, though.
How had she gotten here? And what exactly was she going to do now?
Right now, she decided, she needed to take some safety precautions. If Darrell was alive and if he’d followed her this far, why would he stop now? The apartment had six windows—three in the back and three in the front, plus the door. She checked the locks on each of the windows and tugged at the doorknob to make sure it was secure.
Lifeline Page 4
