Jack leaned on the counter in her large Shaker-style kitchen. She loved the simple, clean lines of her cabinets, with potted plants dotted here and there to bring the natural world indoors. It was one of the rooms in the house untouched by the intruder. The rest of the downstairs was in total disarray.
She felt Jack’s hand on her shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
She let her shoulders drop. “I was really terrified, Jack,” she said quietly. “I’ve been to war-torn locations across the world, and I let something like this scare the life out of me.”
He put both hands on her arms and turned her around before pulling her to his chest. She breathed in the familiar, spicy scent that he wore. It made her feel calmer, more reassured. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and they stood in silence for a while. She normally preferred to keep an appropriate emotional distance from Jack, but she was too tired to keep up her guard.
“It’s okay to be scared,” he whispered. “It doesn’t matter how tough you are. You did the right thing to call me.”
At that moment, the sun’s first rays appeared over the horizon and lit up the room with a warm, yellow glow. It was another beautiful winter’s day in Florida, and she gave thanks for the dawning of this new day.
She looked up at his face. “Thank you.”
He smiled back. “Any time.”
She turned back around to make the coffee. “So, what do we do now?”
“Where are the photographs of the artworks from the Al Faw Palace?” he asked. “If we intend to take this line of inquiry further, we’ll need them as evidence.”
She poured boiling water onto the fresh coffee grounds in her French Press, and a strong, earthy smell revived her jaded senses. “They’re in my desk drawer at the Liberty News office.”
“Ah,” Jack said, taking the cream from the refrigerator. “That explains why the intruder didn’t find what he was looking for.”
“We don’t know what he was looking for yet, Jack,” she reminded him. In her heart, she knew he was probably right, but she didn’t want to believe that she was the only thing standing in the way of a criminal and stolen art worth millions of dollars.
“We should go to Blountstown and get them,” he said. “This morning.”
Rebecca poured two coffees from the pot and added Jack’s usual cream and sugar without needing to ask. As she was stirring the cup, she thought of how much emotional and practical help he had given her since Ian’s death eighteen months ago. In all that time, he had never once asked for anything in return, and here she was leaning on him for support yet again. It was a pattern that didn’t seem to end, and a feeling of guilt niggled away inside her. A man like Jack should have been snapped up by an eligible lady a long time ago, but she had never known him to even have a date. She didn’t want to be responsible for condemning him to a single life. Once this situation was all cleared up, she resolved to spend less time with him and cut him free from his bonds of duty to his best friend.
Jack looked over at her, lost in her own world. “A penny for your thoughts.”
She smiled. “I couldn’t take a penny from you, Jack,” she said. “You’ve given me far too much already.”
*
Jack helped Rebecca clean up the mess left behind by the intruder. He watched the way she carefully picked up each photograph and smoothed it with her hand, clearly remembering the day the image was captured. Her photographs had adorned the cover of TIME magazine not just once but twice. He knew it was during her assignment photographing the war in Iraq that she met and fell in love with Ian Grey. Ian often told Jack the story of how he caught sight of her, wearing a long, billowing white robe and head scarf, emerging from the dust of the desert like a beautiful mirage. He had fallen head over heels at that first meeting, and they married only six months later. When Ian finally introduced Jack to Rebecca, Jack understood exactly what his friend was talking about. She had a gentle quality that many envied, and her zest for life was infectious.
Even on a day like today, when she was functioning on only four hours of sleep, she could still cause heads to turn. Age didn’t diminish her beauty at all—she simply improved as the years passed, and now, at the age of thirty-five, she looked more stunning than ever. Dressed simply in blue jeans and a crisp white shirt, her style was effortless. He felt like a bum in comparison, and he tried to smooth out the creases in his linen shirt.
Rebecca closed the drawer on the filing cabinet in her office and looked over at Jack. “I think that’s enough for now,” she said. “The rest can wait until later. The Liberty News office will be open soon, so we should get going to Blountstown to get the pictures.” She sat down in a chair by her polished oak desk and put a hand on her stomach. “I feel sick with worry. What if the children had been here?”
Jack perched himself on the edge of the desk. “I don’t like the thought of you being here alone,” he said. “Do you think I could move in for a while?”
She looked up at him, blinking quickly. “I’m not sure, Jack.” She looked reluctant. “What would the neighbors think?”
He couldn’t help but give a low laugh. “The neighbors can think what they like.” He turned serious. “You need someone to protect you and the girls in case the intruder comes back. I’ll only stay until this is all sorted out.” He touched her hand. “It makes sense, Bec.”
She nodded, seeming to accept his words. “You’re right. But I’m not sure it’s a good idea to bring the children home just yet. Maybe they should stay at Ian’s mom’s house for a little while, even though they’d love to be here to enjoy your company every day.” She looked wistful. “It would be like we were a family again…” She trailed off and bowed her head.
Jack didn’t know what to say. He already felt like an important part of her life, yet he was acutely aware that his role stopped short of being a complete family member. He would always be an outsider—someone to help and support her but not know her intimately.
He stood and looked out the window. “Let’s give it some thought. I’ll drop by my house on the way back from Blountstown to pick up some things.”
His eyes came to rest at the curb where he had parked his car. He was sure he’d left the vehicle in view of the house. And he hadn’t moved it. So why was the space now empty?
*
Rebecca watched Jack walk down the path, scanning the street in both directions. The sunshine of 8:00 a.m. was tainted with a fine mist, and the dew on the grass was gently steaming after the cold February night.
Jack turned around and held up his palm. “Stay close to the house, Rebecca.”
He squatted down and looked at the ground, inspecting it thoroughly. Rebecca knew he was looking for clues. Could this just be a random car theft? Or was the situation escalating quicker than she had ever anticipated?
She crossed her arms in the chilly morning air. Then she noticed her neighbor, Mrs. Harper, come out of her house and walk across her yard into her own.
“I thought it was your vehicle, Mr. Jackson,” Mrs. Harper called to him, stepping onto the lawn. “There aren’t many yellow sports cars like that around here.”
Jack spun around. “Did you see who took it, Mrs. Harper?”
Her neighbor patted her freshly curled hair. “Well, yes, I did,” she said, before dropping her voice to almost a whisper. “But I didn’t want to disturb you.” She pursed her lips. “What with you staying the night with Rebecca and all.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “He didn’t stay the night, Mrs. Harper,” she said. “I had a breakin last night, and I called Jack to come help out.”
“A breakin,” Mrs. Harper gasped, holding her palm flat to her bosom. “But this is such a safe neighborhood.” She padded across the lawn in her velvet pantsuit, stooping briefly to pick up her little white dog. “Are you all right? Did they take much?” Her eyes traveled to Rebecca’s bandaged hand. “Oh my, you’re hurt.”
Rebecca smiled reassuringly at her, holding up her hand. “This is just
a small cut. I’m fine.” She looked over at Jack, feeling suddenly shy in front of Mrs. Harper, well-known in the area for her love of gossip in all its forms. “Thankfully, Jack came to my rescue and scared the intruder off before he had the chance to take anything.”
Mrs. Harper slid her eyes over to Jack coyly. “A knight in shining armor,” she said demurely. “We could use you on our neighborhood watch.”
Rebecca could see Jack struggling to hold his impatience. “Mrs. Harper,” he said calmly, “who took my car?”
“Oh, it was a repo company,” she said with a sympathetic downturn of the eyes. “But don’t feel embarrassed. Financial difficulties can happen to everyone at one time or another.”
“I own the car outright,” he said with a puzzled expression. “It’s not financed.”
Rebecca went to stand next to him. “Could it be something else?” she offered. “Unpaid tickets? Traffic offenses?”
“No,” he replied. “There’s no reason for anyone to tow the car.”
Rebecca stood even closer and lowered her voice. “Do you think it has something to do with the breakin?” She noticed Mrs. Harper creeping closer, making a big pretense of looking at the flower baskets on Rebecca’s porch. “How do we find out where it’s gone?”
Jack brought his face close to hers, so close that she could feel his breath on her cheek. “Let’s go back inside. I’m not comfortable with an audience.”
Jack lifted his head and smiled broadly. “Thank you very much for your help, Mrs. Harper,” he called. “I guess I must’ve forgotten about some unpaid tickets.”
He put his hand on the small of Rebecca’s back and guided her up the porch steps. She glanced behind them to see her neighbor watching them each step of the way, rubbing the fur of her immaculately preened terrier, whispering in the dog’s ear, no doubt already composing the grapevine of rumor that could sweep through a small town like Bristol in the blink of an eye.
*
Jack navigated the streets of Blountstown in Rebecca’s minivan. He noticed her wringing her hands in her lap, clearly concerned at this new turn of events. Her house had been broken into and her life threatened and, as if that were not enough, his car was then unlawfully taken by a fake repo company.
“It’ll be okay,” he said, glancing over at her. “We’ll get this all straightened out in a day or two.”
He wished he sounded convincing, because he had no idea who or what they were dealing with. He just hoped he could contain the situation before it got out of hand.
She didn’t answer. She remained silent for a while before asking quietly, “How did Ian die?”
Jack felt his grip tighten on the wheel at the unexpected nature of the question. “I thought you knew that,” he said gently. “Ian stepped on a land mine.”
She looked over at him. “Yes, I know that, but I want to know how he died.” She bowed her head. “Was he scared?”
Jack worked hard to steady his breathing and retain a composed demeanor. He and Rebecca had never spoken fully about the day that Ian died. She knew the basics, and that was all. She had never wanted to know more.
“No,” he said finally. “He wasn’t scared.”
“Good,” she said firmly. “I’m glad of that.”
He waited for more questions to come, but she fell silent and turned her head to look out the window, watching the wide streets of Blountstown pass them by. The ornate colonial-style buildings gave the town a feeling that was rich in history, and he knew that Rebecca loved working among its proud residents. But right now, he guessed that her mind wasn’t on the residents of Blountstown. It was focused on an event that took place a year and a half ago on a dark hillside in Afghanistan. The code name Dark Skies mission that had taken Ian Grey’s life hung over both of them like a shadow. He knew that Rebecca was sometimes angry with God for taking her husband, and Jack couldn’t heal her heart, no matter how hard he tried. Maybe this tentative questioning regarding Ian’s fatal mission was the final step in her healing process. He could only hope so.
He turned in to the Liberty News parking lot and screeched the minivan to a halt.
“I don’t believe it,” he said, staring straight ahead. “What on earth is going on?”
Parked in the corner, tucked against the wall of the parking lot, was his Porsche, gleaming like a yellow beacon in the hazy morning mist.
THREE
Rebecca and Jack locked eyes in mutual shock. She automatically reached her hand to open the passenger door and go take a closer look, but Jack’s fingers closed around her wrist.
“No,” he said firmly. “I’ll go check it out.”
He parked the minivan as far away from the Porsche as possible in the small parking lot and moved his hand to rest on top of hers in her lap. “Stay here. If anything bad happens, run into the building and call the police, okay? Don’t put yourself in any danger.”
“Jack,” she said, “be careful.”
He gave her hand a squeeze. “I always am.”
She watched him slide from his seat onto the ground, keeping low and alert. With his hand resting on his holstered gun under the loose fabric of his shirt, he approached the Porsche cautiously, checking the surrounding vehicles for anything suspicious. He skirted around his car, looking through the windows and squatting low to check the underside.
Finally, he returned to her and retook his place in the driver’s seat of her minivan.
“It looks exactly the same as always,” he said. “There’s no sign of anything having been tampered with.”
Rebecca felt the air growing muggy like a storm was brewing. “But what’s it doing here?”
Jack shook his head. “I have no idea, but let’s save that question for later.”
He looked up at the tall Liberty News building. “We need to go get those photographs so we can hand them over to the police. The sooner we make this situation go away, the sooner you can get back to normal.”
Normal, Rebecca thought. What exactly is normal? Normal was living life as a single mom, watching her children grow up without a father, relying on Jack to do all the things that Ian should be doing: teaching the girls to ride a bike, building them a tree house, going to ballet recitals. It wasn’t fair to expect Jack to do this forever. She should be able to manage alone by now. After all, eighteen months had passed already.
“Yes,” she agreed. “I guess we both want to get back to normal. You can get on with your life again.”
He looked a little taken aback. “I am getting on with my life. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re a burden.”
She inhaled deeply and thought of all the words she wanted to say to him, but none of them would come. “We’ll talk about it later, Jack,” she said, opening her car door and stepping out onto the pavement. “We need to have a conversation that is long overdue.”
She saw a look of confusion fall over his face as he exited the car and came to stand next to her. “What are you talking about, Bec? I thought we were doing fine.”
“That’s just the problem, Jack,” she said, turning to walk up the steps to the revolving door of the Liberty News. “There is no we.”
*
Jack took the steps two at a time to catch up to Rebecca, who had stridden ahead of him without warning. Whatever she had just alluded to had unsettled him. He had a worrying suspicion that she wanted him to back out of her life, and this thought sent a cold sensation of anxiety through his body. Yet he couldn’t profess to be wholly surprised. A beautiful woman like Rebecca deserved to meet someone special and be cherished again. She had probably realized that she would never meet such a person while he was on the scene, scaring off any potential suitors.
He saw her disappear through the revolving door and waited for the next wing to turn before darting into the space and finding himself in the large foyer of the building. The temperature inside was the perfect relief from the chilly February day, and the air smelled fresh and clean. Numerous framed newspaper stories adorned t
he walls, showing the history of the paper through the years, with many of the photographs having been taken by Rebecca.
“Rebecca,” a voice echoed across the foyer. “What are you doing here today? Our receptionist told me you’d called to request the day off.”
Jack looked over to see Rebecca’s editor, Simon Orwell, rush to her and envelop her in a hug. Jack’s skin prickled with something he couldn’t put his finger on.
“She also told me about your burglary,” Simon said. “How awful for you.”
“I won’t be here long,” Rebecca replied. “If it’s okay with you.”
“Of course it is,” he said. “Take as much time off as you need.”
Simon’s eyes slid from Rebecca’s and caught sight of Jack behind her. His manner instantly changed to one of brusque formality. He straightened out his yellow suit jacket and adjusted his electric blue shirt collar beneath. He was known for his snappy, if unconventional, dress sense and was thought of as an eccentric media mogul in Florida, where he owned several regional newspapers, many of them sharing the same office space as the Liberty News.
“Conrad,” Simon exclaimed. “So good to see you. Long time no see.”
Jack approached Simon and extended his hand. Simon was one of very few people who used Jack’s first name, and it emphasized the distance between them. They had met many times but had never gotten to know each other well, keeping their conversations usually limited to the best way to avoid traffic gridlock in the morning. That was as personal as either of them wanted to get.
Jack shook Simon’s hand firmly. “I don’t suppose you happened to notice who parked my yellow Porsche in the Liberty News’s lot this morning?” he asked, trying to keep his tone as light as possible. “I took it to be cleaned, and the company must’ve dropped it here instead of the parking lot in the center of town like I asked.” He rolled his eyes. “They get it wrong all the time. I just wondered if you’d seen which attendant left it here.”
“Sorry, no,” Simon said, releasing his hand. “But you’re welcome to use our telephone to call them and check.”
Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Trail of EvidenceGone MissingLethal Exposure Page 41
