Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Trail of EvidenceGone MissingLethal Exposure

by Lynette Eason

Jack held up his hand. “No, thanks. It’s not a big deal.”

  He caught Rebecca’s eye and gave a small shake of the head, letting her know that he didn’t want to divulge any information to Simon. Simon’s natural nosiness was not what they needed right now. If he sniffed a story, he’d be all over it like a bad rash.

  “I’ve come to get something from my desk,” Rebecca said, keeping her voice light, as Jack had. “I left it here yesterday, and I need it for the weekend.”

  Simon put his arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the elevator. “I’ll walk with you. I meant it when I said to take as much time off as you need before returning to work. Burglaries can leave a person with a lot of mental stress, so don’t worry if you need some downtime.” He guided her into the open elevator. “After all, I need my star photographer to stay happy and healthy.”

  Jack kept his eyes on Simon’s hand resting on Rebecca’s shoulder as the elevator glided up to the eighth floor. He wanted to lift Simon’s fingers from Rebecca’s person. Simon was always very friendly with Rebecca, and it bothered Jack greatly, but he knew he had no right to feel that way.

  The elevator doors opened out directly into the large newsroom, where there was a buzz of activity. It was open and airy, with telephones ringing and staff calling to one another across the room.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” Simon said, removing his arm from around Rebecca and heading for his enclosed office at the far end. “Just holler if you need anything.”

  Jack watched Simon striding confidently away, displaying an air of authority that let everybody in the newsroom know who was in charge. Despite being only a little more than five feet five inches in height, he carried himself with the commanding presence of a much taller man. The wide shoulder pads on his expertly tailored suits helped.

  Jack noticed that Rebecca had left his side and gone to sit at her desk by the window. He went to join her, realizing that he had never actually seen her place of work before. Her sunny desk was neatly laid out with photographs for local stories: a beauty pageant, a veterans’ parade, a new statue being unveiled. Next to her computer was a framed photograph of her and Ian, each holding one of their daughters, waving at the camera. He looked away, feeling sadness creep into his heart. He felt as though he were invading her private space.

  She opened the drawer of her desk with a key from her purse and gave a small gasp. “They’re gone,” she said, searching through a pile of papers inside. “They were right here on top. I remember putting them there yesterday after I spoke to the auction house.”

  Across the newsroom, Jack saw Simon talking on the phone, lowering the blinds in his office. It made him feel uneasy.

  He squatted down beside her chair. “Does anyone else have a key to your desk?”

  “Simon has a master key for all the desks,” she said. “But to my knowledge, he’s never used it.”

  “Were these the only copies of the photographs?”

  “They’re the only printed copies,” she said. “But I think I still have the negatives filed away at home. I have a storage freezer in my darkroom.”

  “You think you have them?” he repeated. “Don’t you keep the negatives of all your pictures?”

  She nodded. “Yes, mostly. But these photographs never appeared in any publication. At the time of Operation Iraqi Freedom, the media was way more fixated on human interest stories. Pictures of artwork weren’t what they wanted. If I don’t manage to sell a photo, I sometimes don’t look after the negatives like I should.” She looked a little sheepish. “I have thousands of them, and I focus on the important ones. I keep meaning to transfer them all to digital format, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

  He dropped his voice. “We need to find those negatives before anyone else does.” He grabbed her by the hand. “Let’s go.”

  *

  As Jack led her toward the elevator, Rebecca heard Simon’s voice in the newsroom. “You leaving already?” he called. She looked back to see him jogging to reach them.

  “Yes,” she said. “I got what I need.”

  A look of surprise swept over his face. “You did?”

  Simon quickly smiled, but it was too late to hide his initial reaction. Jack noticed it, too, and flicked his eyes to hers with a look of concern.

  “I thought we could have a coffee together,” Simon said, keeping the smile fixed on his lips. “We so rarely get a chance to catch up these days.”

  Rebecca felt her face take on a look of amazement. In the ten years she had worked at the Liberty News, Simon had never once asked her to accompany him for coffee. In fact, he didn’t like sitting down for longer than five minutes at a time and always grabbed his coffee on the run. He possessed a kind of energy that kept him moving at a frenetic pace.

  “Um, no thanks, Simon,” she said. “I gotta run.” She noticed his disappointment. “Maybe next time.”

  “Aw, come on,” he insisted. “Just ten minutes.”

  Jack then stepped forward and stood between her and Simon. “Thanks for the offer, Simon, but we have a busy day ahead.”

  Rebecca heard the emphasis that Jack placed on we, and she saw Simon’s face harden in response. He was not a man who liked to be challenged, and Jack clearly found it difficult to hide his dislike of her editor. Simon was a big player in the regional media world and had friends in high places. But none of this had an effect on Jack, who treated Simon like any regular Joe.

  “Fair enough,” Simon said, raking his hand through his thinning blond hair. “It was good to see you guys. We’ll catch up another time.”

  Then, without waiting for a response, he turned and walked back to his office in the newsroom, pushing open his office door with a flourish.

  Jack’s eyes narrowed as he watched Simon walk away. “I think it’s wise to keep Simon at arm’s length,” he said quietly. “The less he knows, the better.”

  The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped inside.

  “I know that Simon can be a little arrogant,” Rebecca said, feeling duty-bound to defend her editor. “But I’ve known him for twelve years. I don’t think he’s caught up in anything illegal.” She pressed the first-floor button impatiently when the elevator failed to move. “Simon isn’t a bad person.”

  Jack leaned against the elevator wall as the doors finally closed and it started gliding downward. “You see the good in everyone, Bec. That’s your best quality.”

  She felt her color rise a little and was suddenly conscious of their proximity to one another in this confined area. Jack’s aura seemed to fill the small space, and she found herself willing the elevator to go faster. But instead of smoothly descending to its destination, the elevator began to shudder and jerk, causing her to lose her balance and stumble sideways. She felt Jack’s arms catch her and bring her back to her feet, but the floor was still shaking beneath her legs.

  “What’s happening, Jack?” she yelled, grabbing his hand.

  “Just keep a tight hold on me,” he replied, quickly pulling her into the corner, where he could lean against the two walls.

  Jack’s arms curled around her waist, and the sound of grinding metal filled her ears. It reminded her of the twisted remains of tanks and military vehicles she had seen littering the roadside during her time in Iraq. She could smell the pungent odor of heated steel as the elevator tried to slow its descent into an abyss below. Jack tightened his grip, restricting her breathing a little and leaving her breathless. She worked her fingers underneath his, and he loosened his hold.

  Then the elevator stopped with a sudden jolt, and they were both sent sprawling to the floor when their legs gave way beneath them. She felt Jack’s body cover hers for a split-second before he sprang to his feet like a cat. The lights flickered for a few moments and then went out completely, plunging them into total darkness. This wasn’t a random fault with the elevator. This was a targeted attack, and fear seemed to seep into her bones. She imagined somebody just a few feet away, gleefully toying with the e
levator control box, knowing that its occupants would feel terrorized in the dark.

  “Jack,” she called, trying not to panic. “Where are you?”

  Two strong hands lifted her to her feet. “I’m here,” he said gently. “Don’t worry. I’ll get us out.”

  He used his cell phone to shine a flashlight around the elevator, letting it rest on the emergency telephone that hung on the wall by the buttons.

  He picked up the red handset. “Hello,” he said loudly into the speaker. “Can anyone hear me? We’re trapped in an elevator at the Liberty News building in Blountstown.”

  Rebecca looked at him expectantly, but he shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t even know if it’s working.”

  “What’s going on?” she asked, looking at his face lit up by the glow from his cell phone. “I think we’re in trouble here.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders and looked directly into her face. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Rebecca,” he said solemnly. “I promise.”

  As if to mock his words, the elevator began to shudder again, falling a couple of feet with two quick jumps. Rebecca’s knees hit the floor as she felt her stomach dropping away with the sudden movement. She reached up to take Jack’s hand, and he pushed her down to the floor.

  “Stay down,” he said. “It’s safer.”

  Rebecca knelt on the floor and assumed the most natural position—one of prayer. She closed her eyes and asked God to deliver them from the danger that had sought them out. She had prayed hundreds of times while on photography assignments, surrounded by war and destruction, and the Lord had never failed her. She just needed to put her faith in Him. Within moments, the elevator had settled into a stable position, with no hint of movement. Rebecca strained her ears for the toe-curling sound of metal grinding against metal, but it appeared to have abated. She looked up at Jack, who had placed his cell phone on the floor and was attempting to pry open the doors with his fingertips. His biceps flexed with the powerful effort. When the doors eventually slowly opened, he was faced with a bare brick wall.

  Jack looked at the ceiling. “I can climb out onto the roof and see how far from the next floor we are. We may be able to climb up.”

  Rebecca looked down at her bandaged hand. Even though the injury was slight, the strength in her left hand was decreased. She didn’t know if she was capable of climbing through wires and cables in a dangerous elevator shaft.

  A muffled voice in the darkness provided a beacon of hope. “Hello. Is anyone in there?”

  “Yes,” Jack called. “There are two people in here. Can you help us out?”

  “Stay where you are,” the voice called back. “I’ll activate the emergency override and manually wind you down, but be patient, because it’s mighty slow.”

  Rebecca then recognized the voice as Hal, the building security guard. “Thank you, Hal,” she shouted, jumping to her feet. She quickly added in a murmur, “And thank You, God, for sending him.”

  As the elevator began its sluggish, shuddering descent to the ground, Jack held Rebecca close in his arms. When the motion became a little smoother, she pushed against his torso and placed herself to his side, holding on to a rail on the wall for balance. He mirrored her stance, remaining by her side in the darkness until the familiar sight of the white foyer came into view.

  Rebecca felt as though she was emerging from a cave. They had been trapped inside for only around fifteen minutes, but their eyes had obviously adjusted to the darkness. They both instinctively used their hands as shields against the glare of the sun.

  Hal took her arm as she stepped out onto the polished marble floor. “I’ve never seen an incident like this before,” he said. “It’s the strangest thing.” He took off his cap to scratch his bald head. “Hope you two aren’t too shaken up.”

  “We’re fine. Thanks, Hal,” Rebecca said with a voice that was as calm as she could manage. “Please make sure you stop anyone else from using this elevator until it’s been thoroughly checked and repaired.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Grey,” Hal replied. “I’ll speak to Mr. Orwell right away.”

  The mention of Simon’s name seemed to spur Jack’s resolve to make a speedy exit from the building. “Let’s get outta here,” he said. “Before anything else happens.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me,” she said, heading for the revolving door.

  When they stepped out into the crisp air, Rebecca’s body gave a shiver. It wasn’t just the February day that caused her chills. She was shaken up by the thought that somebody was tracking them, putting their lives in danger, possibly trying to silence her forever. Jack took off his jacket and laid it over her shoulders, rubbing her arms to keep them warm.

  “Stay here while I bring the car around,” he said. “You should keep out of sight.”

  She nodded, glancing back to see Hal behind the front desk talking into the telephone, no doubt informing Simon that the elevator had suffered a serious malfunction, trapping the paper’s lead photographer inside. But would Simon be surprised? She found herself questioning whether Jack’s distrust of her editor was justified after all.

  Then she caught sight of Jack’s yellow car in the corner of the lot. She reached into his jacket pocket and found the Porsche keys nestled inside.

  “Hey, Jack,” she called after him. “Why don’t you drive your car, and I’ll drive mine?”

  He spun around, and his eyes locked on the car keys in her hand. She put her thumb on the black fob that activated the unlock mechanism on the doors. Jack broke into a run and shouted, “No! Somebody might have been here while we were inside!” but it was too late. She had already pressed the button.

  In the next moment, she saw a flash of yellow bounce before her eyes as the car skyrocketed into the air on a ball of flames. The shock wave took her clean off her feet, and Jack’s arms wrapped themselves around her while she was in the air. The last thing she felt was his body go limp as they both fell hard to the ground.

  FOUR

  Jack struggled to open his eyes. He couldn’t remember where he was. He heard voices talking quietly above the hum of busy background activity. He smelled the air: starched sheets and disinfectant. He must be in a hospital.

  His mind flickered with images of his six-man SEAL unit, scouting out the Tora Bora cave complex in Afghanistan. There had been an explosion. He remembered blood and severed limbs, but the fog in his mind wouldn’t clear. Where were his men now? If he had been injured in a gun battle or by an incendiary device, he might have been taken prisoner. He forced his lids open, trying to assess whether this was an enemy medical facility or an American base. He saw a machine by his bed, trailing wires to his chest. He reached up and pulled the suction cups from his body, sending the machine whirring into a monotone flat line.

  He was suddenly surrounded by men and women in medical clothing, pushing him back on the bed. He listened carefully to their voices: they were speaking English with what sounded like American accents. But he couldn’t be entirely sure. He used all his strength to push himself forward and try to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. His head throbbed in rhythm with his pulse, and it hurt.

  “Where are my soldiers?” he slurred. “Where is Ian? He’s hurt.”

  “Please sir,” a voice said above him. It was a young woman, wearing pink scrubs. “You’re experiencing flashbacks. You’re in a hospital in Blountstown, Florida. You’re safe. You suffered a head injury when your car exploded.”

  These words were enough to allow reality to flood through his body, bringing him sharply back into the present. The chain of memories dropped down like dominoes in his mind—the Dark Skies mission, his best friend stepping on a land mine, his return to America to take care of Rebecca and the girls, the intruder in her house, the potential auction of stolen Iraqi artwork and his car being planted with a bomb. All these returning memories made the urge to stand become even greater. He must find Rebecca. He couldn’t let Ian down. He had made an oath.

&nbs
p; “Rebecca,” he said, pushing the nurse’s hands from his body. His shirt was gone, and his chest was covered in tiny marks where gravel had entered his skin. “Where is she?”

  The nurse in the pink scrubs pursed her lips and made a shushing noise. “She’s fine, Mr. Jackson. She’s waiting in the family room for you to wake up. You shielded her from the blast.”

  He let his body flop back onto the bed. “What a relief,” he said quietly, closing his eyes. He opened them again and looked at the nurse. “Is anybody with her?”

  The nurse attached a cuff to his arm to take his blood pressure. He felt the band squeeze his biceps tight with the pressure. “She’s currently with someone from the military, I believe.”

  He yanked his head from the pillow. “Who?”

  The nurse removed the cuff and checked the readout. “Your blood pressure is a little low, Mr. Jackson. I recommend you take things easy for a few days.”

  He didn’t care about his blood pressure. He repeated the question. “Who is with Rebecca?”

  “His name is Mr. Finch,” she replied. “He arrived here a little while ago.”

  “Darius Finch?” Jack asked loudly. “Chief Petty Officer Darius Finch?”

  Chief Finch was one of the senior members of the Dark Skies team, although he never got his hands dirty on the ground. He was known for his brains rather than his brawn and had been the master tactician behind their mission to terminate an insurgent commander in Afghanistan who was systematically destroying girls’ schools across the region. Darius had planned the entire operation with superb precision, leaving nothing to chance. The only thing he couldn’t plan for was the presence of land mines. That was always going to be an unquantifiable danger. And Ian had paid the price for the entire team.

  The nurse shook her head. “I’m not sure who he is, exactly. If you wait here, I’ll go check for you.”

  Jack shifted on the bed and pushed himself to an upright position. “That’s very kind of you ma’am, but I think I’ll go check for myself.”

  The nurse pressed her hand on his shoulder. “We recommend you stay in your hospital bed for the next twenty-four hours.” She clearly got the impression that he did not intend to take her advice. “We obviously can’t stop you from leaving, but head injuries can be complicated, so we’d like to be on the safe side.”