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

by Lynette Eason

  He stopped briefly in the open doorway and looked at her. “The police’s job is to protect members of the public,” he said. “It’s my job to protect you.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he brought his finger up to her lips to silence her. “And it’s not because I made a promise to Ian,” he said quietly. “It’s because I care about you.”

  He let his finger remain on her lips for a second or two, and he felt her mouth tremble slightly with his lightly applied pressure. She looked deeply into his eyes, and he felt he could almost hear the words in her mind, asking him to go further and explain what he meant. But he had no time. And he wasn’t sure he could explain himself anyway. He just needed to say it.

  Then he turned and closed the back door, jogging across the back lawn to the fence that divided Rebecca’s yard from her neighbor’s. He vaulted the fence easily and landed with steady feet on Mrs. Harper’s smooth decking. He instantly ducked down low, seeing two figures sitting together in a room beyond the sliding patio door. Through Mrs. Harper’s net drapes, it was difficult to see more than an outline, but he could make out their large frames leaning forward, talking together. One of the men rose from the couch and walked through to the kitchen, no doubt wondering about the prolonged disappearance of their host. Jack darted to the exterior wall and kept his gun held by his shoulder.

  Then he heard a heavy knock on the door of the house. “Police! Open up, please.”

  He flicked his head to look through the window and saw the backs of both men standing in the kitchen. They looked somehow familiar to him, with mannerisms that he seemed to recognize. One thing was certain—both of these men were in too good physical shape to be Simon Orwell.

  Officer Layton’s voice echoed from the front of the house again. “This is the police. Please identify yourselves.”

  One of the men turned around, and Jack saw his features clearly through a gap in the drapes—strawberry blond hair, freckled skin and a neat scar that ran through his left eyebrow. The last time he had seen that face was at Ian’s funeral. The man was one of five pallbearers who proudly carried the coffin to its final resting place. The missing sixth pallbearer was meant to represent Ian himself—the only absent man in a brotherhood of six.

  This man in Mrs. Harper’s house was Cole Strachan, and by his side was Dillon Harding, both members of the Dark Skies team. He shook his head in amazement. Mrs. Harper had been right after all—they were old Navy buddies. And as he watched them approach the front door of Mrs. Harper’s house, he realized that he had implicated them in the attack on Darius. He rushed to the patio door, slid it open and stepped into the living room.

  As Mrs. Harper’s little white dog ran in circles, yapping furiously, Cole and Dillon were spread up against the wall and cuffed. They looked at each other in bewilderment before noticing Jack standing in the hallway.

  Cole smiled and shook his head. “I might’ve known you’d send a welcoming party, Jack. What on earth is going on?”

  Jack rubbed his hand down his face. “How long have you got?”

  They both replied in unison. “As long as you need.”

  *

  Rebecca paced the floor of the kitchen, trying to strain her neck to see over the fence into Mrs. Harper’s yard, but it was too dark for good visibility. She wrung her hands as she walked, talking quietly to herself to prevent her mind from running rampant with images of Jack hurt. Or worse. She knew it could happen. It had happened once already, and she was powerless to prevent a repeat of that fateful day. When Jack had brushed her lips with his finger, she had almost wavered and let herself believe they had a chance of happiness together, that she wasn’t destined to be alone for the rest of her life. But waiting for his return was like torture, and she was reminded of the many dark days she had endured before getting her life back on track. God wouldn’t want to put her through that again.

  Mrs. Harper was sitting at the table. “Don’t look so worried, Rebecca,” she said. “I’m sure Jack will be fine. A big, strong man like that can look after himself.”

  Tears began to unexpectedly flow down Rebecca’s face. She was horrified at being unable to stop them, and she quickly turned her back on Mrs. Harper and placed her hands on the kitchen counter in order to steady herself.

  “I thought the same thing about Ian,” she said between big gulps of air. She tried to clench her teeth tightly shut, but it had no effect on the sobs heaving though her body. It was as if the pent-up frustration of eighteen months was coming out in one big push.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Harper,” she blurted out. “Give me a minute and I’ll be fine.”

  “I shall not give you a minute,” her neighbor said strongly, pulling her by the shoulder to turn her around. Rebecca felt herself tugged into a warm and soothing embrace as Mrs. Harper spoke gently. “If you can’t rely on a friend in a time of crisis, then what is the world coming to?”

  Darius poked his head around the kitchen door, alerted by the sound of crying. Rebecca saw Mrs. Harper wave him away with her hand, letting him know that his presence was not needed. He hobbled back to the window in the hall and resumed as lookout for Jack’s return.

  Mrs. Harper allowed the sobs to subside into small gasps before leading Rebecca to sit in a kitchen chair and fetching a glass of water. “Do you realize that this is the first time I’ve seen you cry?” Mrs. Harper asked, sitting next to her. “In all this time since Ian died, I’ve never had the privilege of seeing you grieve.”

  Rebecca wiped the wetness from beneath her eyes, where she knew her mascara had streaked down her cheeks. “Privilege?” she repeated, questioning the odd choice of word.

  Mrs. Harper put her hand on top of Rebecca’s and made gentle circular motions. “Grief is such a private act, it’s a difficult thing to share,” she said. “When my George died, I didn’t want anyone to see me at my worst.”

  Rebecca blinked back more tears. Mrs. Harper rarely discussed her late husband, George, who had died long before Rebecca moved to the street.

  “Grief is kind of like being a child again,” Mrs. Harper continued in her relaxing Southern lilt. “It makes you vulnerable, and you feel safe only with the ones you love.” She smiled. “So for you to allow me to see your pain makes me feel very special.”

  Rebecca smiled weakly in response. “The truth is, Mrs. Harper,” she said, “I’m not quite sure who I’m grieving for. I cried for a long time after Ian died, but now…”

  “But now you’re crying for someone else?”

  Rebecca couldn’t answer. Even speaking the word out loud felt disloyal to her dead husband. She simply nodded mutely instead.

  “Ian will always be in your heart,” Mrs. Harper said. “Some days, you’ll be reminded of him when you see his favorite show on TV or smell his cologne on another man in the street.”

  “Or hold his blue sweater,” Rebecca added.

  Mrs. Harper nodded in agreement, clearly not understanding the reference but not pressing her. “Memories of him will be constant, but don’t fight them. Enjoy them. You don’t need to put all those memories in a box in order to care about someone else.”

  Rebecca let her shoulders slump forward until she was almost resting her head on the kitchen table. “I don’t want to care about someone else,” she whispered.

  “Well then, don’t,” Mrs. Harper said with a flick of her wrist. “If you don’t want to care about another man, then switch the feelings off. It’s that simple, right?”

  Rebecca pulled a tissue from her pants pocket and dabbed under her eyes. “Maybe it is that simple,” she said, wondering if Mrs. Harper had hit on a bright idea. “When I first started out photographing scenes of war and violence, I was scared out of my mind, but somebody once told me to pretend to be fearless. At first it’s hard, but eventually it becomes like second nature, and you stop being afraid.” She looked at Mrs. Harper with a smile. “Maybe it would work for other emotions, as well. If I pretend they’re not real, then eventually they’ll go away.”


  Mrs. Harper’s brow furrowed with little crinkles as she listened to Rebecca talk. “No,” she said with a shake of her head. “That’s not what I meant at all. You’re misunderstanding me. What I’m saying is—”

  Both women jumped in shock as someone rapped on the window. Rebecca looked up to see Jack at the glass, a broad grin on his face. She placed her hand on her chest to try and stop her racing heart. She had never felt relief like it before, but she closed her eyes and allowed her body to absorb the euphoria at seeing him safe and well before rising to open the back door. He stepped inside and beamed even wider.

  “You were right about the men at your house, Mrs. Harper,” he said. “They are old navy buddies. The police would like you to come back to your house and vouch for them before they allow them to leave.” He turned to Rebecca. “They were in Afghanistan with Dark Skies.”

  Rebecca put her hand on his shoulder. “This is good news,” she said, trying hard to contain her emotions. “I’m glad you’ve come back safe.”

  Suddenly he gathered Rebecca into his arms and held her close. “I told you I would.”

  Feeling his warm embrace triggered her need to implement her plan. She stiffened her body, and he released his grip. “You okay?” he asked. “You seem a little distant.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile. “You were really brave, and I’m very proud of you.”

  Jack’s eyebrows danced in a quizzical manner. “What’s with the formality, Bec?” he asked. “You’re talking like you just met me.”

  “Sometimes formality is good,” she replied, stepping back from him. “Why don’t you go and explain the situation to Darius, and we’ll all go to Mrs. Harper’s house together, where he can make a statement about the attack to the police.”

  Jack looked momentarily confused, like he wasn’t sure how to treat this new version of Rebecca. “I’ll go get Darius,” he said. “Don’t leave without me.”

  “Of course not.” She smiled.

  Rebecca then walked over to Mrs. Harper and took her by the hand. “Thanks for the chat,” she whispered, ignoring the expression of concern on her neighbor’s face. “It really helped.”

  “I don’t think it had the desired effect,” Mrs. Harper said, rising from her seat. “Poor Jack looks like a rabbit caught in headlights. He has no idea where he stands.”

  Rebecca stood tall in her kitchen and lifted her head high. “He’ll know where he stands soon,” she said. “I just have to be strong enough to teach him.”

  *

  Jack was overjoyed that his two great friends were sitting with him in Rebecca’s living room, sharing a joyful reunion. After being satisfied that the strangers in Mrs. Harper’s house were not Darius’s attackers, the deputies had spent an hour in Rebecca’s home. They interviewed Darius, Rebecca and Jack, trying to piece together the information. They left the house to go pick up Simon and Peter for immediate questioning. Jack just hoped that Simon would come clean. Rebecca’s editor had now become Jack’s number-one suspect for the art theft, and it looked like he had recruited his newest journalist as a sidekick.

  It had been well over a year since Jack had seen his old friends. Cole and Dillon both understood exactly why Jack had retired from the SEALs to make the move to Bristol, Florida. Despite having not seen Jack for such a long time, they easily slipped into their old familiar ways, teasing and mocking each other with good humor.

  “Hey, Jack,” Cole said, leaning forward. “We thought you were trying to avoid us. We visited the car dealership and your home, but it was like you disappeared off the face of the earth.” He threw his head back and laughed. “If your neighbor hadn’t told us where to find you, we would have gone back to Virginia without seeing you at all.”

  “And we’d never have had the pleasure of being almost arrested by the police,” Dillon added with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t realize the police in Florida were so thorough.”

  “Sorry about that, guys,” Jack said. “I had no idea you’d be making a surprise call. What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

  “We’re on our way down to the naval air station in Key West,” Cole replied. “Gotta do some military training.” He punched Jack on the arm playfully. “We can’t all be hotshot car dealers like you.”

  Dillon slapped Jack on the back. “And we couldn’t come all the way to Florida without seeing the one and only Conrad Jackson, right?” He looked over at Darius sitting on the opposite couch next to Rebecca. “Little did we know that Chief Finch was here, too.” He narrowed his eyes in a teasing display. “Did you guys arrange a party without asking us? No wonder you weren’t answering your cell phone.”

  Jack held up his hands. “I had no idea you were trying to contact me,” he said. “I lost my cell in an accident.” He cast a glance in Rebecca’s direction, acutely aware of the fact that she was evading his eyes. She sat next to Darius on the edge of the couch with her legs tucked beneath her, her dark hair cascading over her white blouse in waves. “Actually,” Jack continued, turning solemn, “my car was planted with explosives.”

  Rebecca’s eyes snapped to his, wide and alert. Cole and Dillon exchanged glances.

  “Are you in trouble, Jack?” Cole asked quietly.

  Jack looked directly at Rebecca and didn’t shift his gaze. “We’re in trouble,” he said, nodding toward her. “Darius is here because Rebecca called him after I was knocked out cold by the explosion.”

  The two men focused their full attention on Jack. “We’re all ears,” Cole said.

  Jack took a deep breath and started the story from the beginning, watching their faces betray not one hint of emotion as he gave a detailed account of the danger that had been stalking them for the last two days. He occasionally flicked his eyes over to Rebecca, whose expression remained as stony as the SEALs in the room. He couldn’t help but feel that she was wearing a mask—one that looked and sounded like her but was nevertheless a pretense. He wished he knew what had happened earlier to give her such a cold exterior, but there would be no time to ask her tonight. The clock was approaching midnight, and they had an important meeting in Tallahassee tomorrow. Jack had called the museum that morning and arranged an appointment for the following day. So whatever emotions Rebecca was feeling, she needed to get some rest.

  “Are you serious, Jack?” Dillon asked after hearing the whole story. “You should’ve called us as soon as you needed help.”

  Jack rose from the couch to pace the room. “You guys have your own lives to get on with. I can’t drag you all the way to Florida whenever I have a problem.”

  “Sure you can,” Cole said. “Especially when it’s as serious as this. We’ll stay and help.”

  “You guys are on your way to Key West for training,” Cole said. “You can’t just ditch your duties on my account.”

  “Training can always be pushed back a couple of days,” Cole replied. “I’ll make some calls to clear it with chiefs, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. This is way more important than hanging out of helicopters.”

  Dillon rubbed his hands together. The sound of the friction on his rough skin was the only noise in the quiet room, lit by low table lamps. “The men who went on the Dark Skies mission are like a family to us,” he said. “We look out for one another. Always.”

  Darius entered the conversation. “Let’s not get too sentimental here,” he said. “We already have a plan in place to prove that items were stolen during the Iraq War, probably by Simon Orwell and his accomplice. This matter will be handed over to the FBI as soon as possible.”

  Dillon pointed to the bandage on Darius’s thigh. “Was that injury part of your plan, chief?”

  Darius gritted his teeth. “Watch your smart mouth,” he said. “We may not be part of the same team any longer, but I’m still your superior.”

  Rebecca suddenly stood up. “We’ve arranged to go see a professor at the Museum of Fine Art. He’ll study the photographs against the pictures in the auction brochure and assess whet
her they’re the same items. Once we have his expert opinion as evidence, we can hand it over to the FBI, they’ll confiscate the artwork and we can all breathe a sigh of relief.”

  She turned to Cole and Dillon. “I’m really sorry that you two have arrived at such a bad time, and I hope I get another chance to talk with you when this is all over. But if you want to help, then please stay at my house tomorrow to hold down the fort. The police are putting arrest warrants out for Simon Orwell and Peter Allen for their attack on Darius today, and there’s a good chance they’ll show up here to finish what they started. I want to put this situation behind me as quickly as possible. I miss my kids, I miss my freedom and I intend to make sure my home is safe before I bring my family back.” Rebecca looked around the faces in the room, and Jack felt his chest swell with pride at her show of strength. “Are we all sure of our roles tomorrow?” she asked. “Because I really need to get some sleep.”

  The men each nodded in turn and rose to leave. Jack saw Cole put his hand on Rebecca’s shoulder as he passed her. “You’re in safe hands with Jack,” he said. “We’ll be back first thing in the morning.”

  She smiled, and Jack saw her mask slide a little, revealing the pain and tension on her face. He felt her slipping further away from him, shutting herself off even more.

  When their visitors departed, he watched her close the door and lean against it, resting her head heavily on the wood. She rubbed her face from top to bottom and let out a long, deep sigh. “Good night, Jack,” she said. “See you in the morning.”

  “Good night,” he said quietly. “I’ll make sure we’re all secure before turning in.”

  He made a check on every point of entry, set the intruder alarm and wearily climbed the stairs to bed, feeling an ache in his bones that he knew did not come from physical fatigue. This kind of tiredness would not be remedied with sleep.

  As Jack tossed and turned in his bed, his thoughts returned time and time again to Ian. Jack knew that his promise to his best friend had gone beyond his original intention. He had not expected to feel such tenderness for Rebecca, or to grow to love her children like they were his own. Ultimately it did not really matter, as she was moving her life in a new direction, one that didn’t include Jack. His role would soon be defunct, and his promise fulfilled once and for all.